Sunday, 30 December 2012

The lifting fortress floats on a mountain

The lifting fortress floats on a mountain,
Looking down on the victims below,
On ensnarement of dumbfounded viewers it chuckles,
Loving the river as it grows,
The liberty of all is its gift to the masses,
Hollow boons grant themselves without substance,
Stark guises hide under fat faces,
Their slit throats pumping into their hands.

Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Difficult durational dole-ness

Difficult durational doleness, lives alongside the everyman,
Distant, longingly lingering for a chance,
Calls from the wild-ones shriekly silent don’t fall,
“Fill me with that what (it) is I require of it,”
Lift your finger, hands and arms in salutation,
For all the done things do as they wish.

Can a fault be found with the national heartaches that flourish,
The ongoing times are relentless and strong in their perseverant policy,
Living as we do just lives itself forward,
And hedgehogs encircle all in quills,
Queues form as we join the others in desperation,
Raising up our children for evermore.

Something new can come in hope,
An un-festered ideal in creative cognition wishes for it,
Do I convince my selfishness to agree with my ideal,
Something just bubbles away of its own volition,
God I seek to know too much of things,
As we should or just turn off the engine,
Valves seize their fellowship tightly and decisions are just made.

How shallow are we? Discoursing forcing, liveable at least,
Solitude is assured as togetherness infinitely assures us,
Things in surety, confliction calluses,
Stop the wear, lick your feet.

Of one thing at least be sure.

Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Cryptical Lyrical

Azonal aloneness suppresses the leeching callings of the parakeet nations,
Forth comings of red white and blue flow forceful through the milieu of timelessness,
Sources of fullness cannot feel the plague’s spread,
Can I can you follow the suits of us-busters,
Do we not follow our thoughts in our writings,
Eruptions of alchemical callings do not sway our wind,
Listing in the divine helps our selves heal,
Sometimes the leading is the following,
Sometimes the following is the leading,
Confusing to follow yourself or some unknown agent within,
Different rules do not apply themselves as self governance doesn’t exist,
“Call we what to will me forth,”
Why understand when you can just feel and vent into creativity,
This isn’t funnelling but flowing directly frictionless,
Cryptical lyrical,
I feel full, and the door is so rusty,
Do not understand, hold strong and make someness accountable for its own train,
The conventions are strong within us but don’t fight them,
Or at least do not seek to fight them just weave in difference,
In what way are we limited by what we know?
Freshness falls to all men and boundaries are met and agreed, adhered to in brokerage,
The lines have to stop forming, there has to be an illimitable ending,
Or maybe I ran out of paper.

Monday, 24 December 2012

Yellow Mist: Original

Yellow mist floating, its rarity deadly,
furling flections pointing down mouths and,
wet lungs and bleeding, slowly filling,
with a “hoff”, a cough, another piece lost.
This way is misleading for those still breathing,
will not breathe,
yet the frost under foot soothes,
as men pant coolly, as chemical burns.

I lived for my whole life time,
rasping and searching for a breath.
The day I should have fallen went on and on.
I can’t see past my body,
I look as far as my death but cannot see further.
The love I have still burns yet I can’t breathe,
can never breathe, will never breathe again.
My great grandson asked me:
“Did you die grandy?”
So I told him,
as my consciousness drifted in and out of the battlefield,
that he was but a dream I had while… I was dying.

Rising up to the sky I felt all of my children,
possibilities taken?
Where I went to I don’t know,
sometimes all I see is whiteness,
and someone says:
“Hey you. How are you?”
I never quite know how to answer,
because at once I had lost and gained so much.
I still smile though as I did when I fell that day,
yellow teeth gritted, looking for security.
The love still runs deep,
for all that came after, fulfilment of dreams.
My comrades still watch me smiling,
their wide smiles stretching my patience,
but I still love life.

As we all dance together,
my breathing eases,
and now… yes, I can see "my happy place".
Time will always be with us,
but I don’t care anymore,
I am free now.
I still taste the gas,
my love breathes deeply of it,
for all it has given me.
I will not go back.