You never see my pain
behind the cold rain
I hide them all the same
A so called weirdo
I don’t choose to be schizophrenic
it’s God’s epidemic
when the cave man called to the divine
when he spoke to the trees
as gods when he believed
did you think the ones who didn’t believe
tormented him yes they probably did
but without looking outside our shell
we can’t see heaven or hell
and if you don’t look science as well.
In Stories written
I am smitten by hero or heroin
Life is stranger that the art we stare in
fairy tale romances underneath the surface glances
uncovers a setting
But I am betting you couldn’t of picked a better villain from your library book
and you will see
that there is a reason behind
their evil mentality.
It starts with there parents story
as it recycles on
Unhappiness detachment from love
is a somber song
sometimes played from a harp.
We are not the people who we thought
we are the stories we tell ourselves
the book our character is the one we tell ourselves we ought to play
but in the light of day
and in the night time
we hold onto the person we’ve told ourselves
whether we are lion king
we are not the character written on our forehead by god or the stars
we are the character fashioned and shaped by life our parents and ourselves
But do you know we can change our fortunes by changing the way we think
about ourselves in our own head
by burying the past and leaving it for dead.
Dimensions of reality
technicolour explosions of light
Interwoven into our sight
Surround sound system
Crisper than crisp crackling
boomier than a bass dropping sound woofer
audio clarity crystal clear
name dropping colour trapping
whats is better than this I don’t know…
Interface your internet
Respect your Ciri dialect
reality vivaciously virtual
turn on your super clean washing machine
from out of the house
when you not even there
pay for play for
Must have Netflix
your next hit
Prime time video
With robots please respect
Flex your pecs at the drive in gym
latex rubber dream
Stupendous short skirted
waxed laced and bowed down
In an avalanche of grace
wrapped in platinum and gold
luscious fruity delicious
that will make you desire
Great balls of fire
and jerk fireworks.
Peaceful river flowing free
collected together by tributaries
I am a river we are the sea
we are all memories.
Peaceful river rains collected in a river bed
We are the words collected and said
shaping the land around
with indents of smiles
traveling together for miles
Peaceful river animals coming to drink
do you ever stop to think
and take a moment
to think about life’s dream?
what makes you you and me me
do you open your eyes to actually see
life beautifully displayed
Peaceful river fish swim
we watch them jumping
games and sports blood pumping
boats traveling up and down
and all around
trees with birds nest
the days we spend carelessly are the best.
love Andover poem of the day false hope?
Poem and commentary around the idea of hope formed from a short poem I wrote about a bird singing while being trapped in hell.
The clammer of the overthinking overwhelmed mind
chattering away with itself like a overused hard drive.
Hope, but she is a caged bird waiting for her master
faith but all faith is enslaved in disaster.
A sonnet of despair, a song of solitude
a monologue of filth and the rude
a innocent boy and a prude.
A crazy overbearing self talk squawk
a chalk drawing of heart that’s been erased.
A penis looking up at the sky
A black dog biting its owner
A loner waiting for the strength to cry.
Freedom from attachment
but a wanting to be engaged and attached
Discourse divorced a face scratched.
silence like a scream
a dream turning into a nightmare
a blank stare
a daydream being expelled.
Hell carrying on into a lonely hello
An eye open that cannot be shut
a slut shutdown clown
love becoming only a noun.
When the ghosts of Christmas’s past
won’t go, they just laugh
at all your efforts for this Christmas time
the air freshener scent of pine
won’t hide the smell of sprouts
there is a sense of disbelief and doubt
that Santa’s eaten your mince pies
you are so stressed your eye has a stye
you got put on the naughty list
the mistletoe has run out, so you won’t get kissed
you have a friend who can’t make it who will be missed
when the kids are driving you spare
you have run out of underwear
your socks are more holy than the carols being sung at church
your partner has broke up with you and left you in the lurch
so they don’t have to buy you any presents
you feel like an unlucky pheasant
because the shop assistant is being less than pleasant
remember the year will begin again
and spring time will soon be here.