A Moment Of Your Time

Just give me one moment, of this time,
To ask some questions that trifle my mind,
To what you say and how you do, all of
it contrieved, thoughtless, confused.

If it wouldn't bother you so, could you
Explain to me where it is that you're at?
Coming here with statements pure mad folly,
senseless patter, misunderstood chat.

What's missing in your mind, soul or heart?
Words jaded, muddled and falling apart.
Confusion and questions drive us all,
steering to me seems to be way off mark.

Is it strange to miss part of this world
out of your picture, in blinkered vision?
To throw something out into darkened cold,
A place you avoid, where you subtract addition.

My sense cannot make of who you are,
That cannot feel warmth to one other the same,
Your mechanics so broken and reason
so fallic, recycled words ingrained.

What will it take to make you see, this
life is waste, filled with misguided notion?
Happiness is key, and it won't be found
with your eyes and heart kept firmly apart.

Question living, an answer simple,
All the pieces laid out in solution.
No mystery lies, shrouded round in cloud,
Just let go, to take heed your world

And let enemies that seem like close friends,
Fall away and disperse, so that distraction
can find his purpose, and clarity will follow
to you: see the world, see me, see you.

No need to be on outer quays, let
loose without restraint, and heart a heavy let
go: of bitter days, strange ways of insane.
Find clear concience and faith, change this place,

Escape.

Ode To You

give merriment and give joy,
silky contours that trace the light
delicately curved, ready to hand.

the centerpiece of the social,
the years have waited for this;
liquid enriched, bring walls down.

a figure of cheeried times,
afterwards reside in life renewed
waxed stalk burn, satisfied brand.

a simple significance,
light reflect in corner stood
your own society, vicarious to ours.

I Am #1

I am new in baby blue,
shrink wrap just removed.
Colours twinkle round me.

Zemblem

Wake up from this dream:
stuck down space bar keys
and childhood songs in head,
frantically looping.

Clocks tick by in silence,
filling rooms with purpose
that drives us forward,
answers not yet found.

Turning blades bring power,
igniting bulbs inside,
bringing wisdom to task,
keeping country's form.

Flashing images haunt
the heart's desire,
kept unwrapped, silenced;
never accordingly used.

If glass were to smash,
would it ever be known
by eyes unseeing,
or heart unfeeling?

Fond reverie remains,
by all maintained, and
empty gazes are met
by the purveyors of

zemblanity.

Eleven

Poets scream out for the missing letters
from society that just doesn't care anymore,
the classic circle peg and square hole
of the disaffected youth that no longer cares.

From out the shadow of children comes forth
adult shells dispossessed with no meaning
and at a loss to speak forth the words untold,
playground dreams traded for a world spiteful.

Unwelcomed and unwanted, nothing left here for
the ones pulled through these gates thrown open,
left no choice nor any feeling, to be amongst
angels fallen, minds distracted from what should be.

Resented and torn, time can only steal souls away,
bodies wither away with minds and dreams long ago,
forgotten ideals long gone along with them,
only bones remain and dust, and words tell everything lost.

Start Again

Another hot and sweltered white light night.

Ideas stifled like the air that clamours.

Thoughts and the world are silent together.

Dreams overtake and leave solitary confinement.

Eyes and ears hold out intently and wait.

Nothing passes or speaks and patience is only left to wain.

Tiredness doesn't always mean sleep, only leaving.

Remained restless exhaustion, cracked covered serendipity.

Nights used to be filled with unruled thoughts and dreams.

Now an only friend has gone, no understanding is left here.

In a shrinking space, every soul has gone.

Drowning in dreams and the journey towards tomorrow.

Trapped in today as it fades, stuck between the two and exhasparated.

Random images pass and fleet, memories of yesterday.

Childhood and climbing trees, tightly wound roundabouts and playgrounds of the free.

Secret clubhouses and the top of the world, forests of secrets for intrepid souls.

Lazy days under marshmallowed skies, then and now.

Ultimately the prettiest things converge into indecipherable mess.

Never yet learned to untangle, to grab the fly on the fence, nor to understand.

The walking asleep and the unaccepted shrunk downs.

Future dreams that remain in the past.

Every moment unrealised waiting for discovery and elusive enlightenment.

Down in the basement, the gutter and the mud.

Heads are tilted upwards to castles in the sky.

The Ballroom Dance

Smiles that are extended from across of this here

Are what leave tightening air between the two

Of you.  Smiles left wondering what to think when

they look to you and find nothing but love that is spent.

Effected outsiders are what leave the insides destroyed

The further you pull away and behind the laughter

Of the boys and the girls who spend the whole day annoyed

Inside their heads, they hold the leftovers of what they are.

Encoldened touches and dying intentions of anything asked like

Beats that are dropping out of rhythm and are just noises now

As footsteps carry you away across the ballroom floor

Crowds are what swallow them whole, nothing to anyone, anymore and somehow.

Without the hope that was once around what is there left to expect?

To live without the necessary quintessentials and absolutes,

The selfish nature of those from which our nature vicarious

Sparks have all but left us starved and babbling, incapable and uncomprehending.