Pop star pink

Really you’re a can of dreams
a product on a shelf
A mystery sold with stealth
cool as a cucumber
you don’t slumber
Your image bright as a summers day
To the music industry you pray
to break through
into the mainstream
a pop artist with an image sheen
singing a clean song
when you want to swear
creativity gone your left with despair
and singing in your underwear
to pull in the punters
life is full of grunter’s and groaner’s
and beautiful songstress moaners
sounding like their fresh as a big O
or dancing like a jiggle low
you all sound the same
but the money’s good
sing for all your worth you know you should.

zombie land

In a desolate waste land hell
Minds that decay dwell
In the thick starless night
of dead space sight

in the void of hearts that have been shown no love
Like angels with their wings clipped and can not fly above
The sinking feeling reigns in stomachs like a pit
the only fear that reaches us anew is lit
By anger and despair which catches our stare
Like a terrible mournful glare
we are the television dreams that died out
the terrible visions of you that you can’t doubt
but say is true
I am a zombie and so are you
and our hunger can never be sated
abated or abbreviated
I hunger for sanity
In this world of fears
but positivity won’t reach my ears

for we are programmed to feed on the fears of our fathers
and our fathers, fathers and mothers mothers ever after
and we are the struggle that lines all pockets with jewels
and we are the cold hearts beating so cool
and love is what we ache for but we are fools.
Droiling for flesh
Outer shell should not be so important it’s only mesh
Our souls cry out to be touched
But we are bones supported by a crutch
of thoughts that we never really own
I need you I feel so alone
Our mantra crying out to the abyss
but who’s words ?
am I saying this?