Hoping

The heart.
My heart is sinking
like the sun on the horizon
Yearning for people to be happy
Unhappy is not the place to be
Unhappy is shaken
deflation of spirit
frustration of mind
Sorrow can be good though too
Sorrow can be fine
Sorrow can accept
and be content
Sorrow and Joy combined
Nothing to do about weight on your chest
But let it go and be fine.
After a while
The sun will shine
With joy. True joy.
Joy that’s experienced truth
Joy that’s experienced sadness
Makes it much more complete.
This is why we live together on this Earth.
For the joy and tears
Beauty, love and dissension
Here I am hoping for love
I am hoping for love
I am hoping for love
I am hoping for love
From you.

Black Marble

Twang wire sunlight
Burning down faster
than winter sunlight
I’m crying with my ribs
I want to see the Black stone
That we stand on
Ridiculous- we stand on
Marble black.
reflects the light
We soak up the heat
or on the black
But we are good
But we are white
We are fire
We are singing
To never stop
We are smiling
To never stop
So the water sea
will erode the soil
the black marble
The black marble
and the soil
will be new.
Will be red soil
Will be happy
Will be alive
will be there
When I die
‘Cause I am not dying, Red Soil
I am not singing to slime
To black soil
You are growing
You are growing
and red soil
goes black
The roots are delving
Deeper
You know it
You know it’s planted
I am rooted
and growing
in the red soil
They scatter my buds though
They scatter my blood
Mother
don’t stop
For I am still
of a fruit
and for the love
of the sky.

18th March 2010

Caller ID

Cry for the hurts

Caused by stuck up souls

Chats over a cup of coffee

That tormented the politics of freedom

Have you ever heard

the cries of my soul

As I tell you how my dad’s dying

And my mother’s lying

to her soul.

Do you not see how I lie to you

When I say the pain is theirs, not mine

Do have a heart that dares

To look into another’s eyes?

No doubt you’ve lied of reputation

You’ve saved your own through refutation

You can say nothing to me

That isn’t true

‘Cause I know your number.

The pain you’ve had

Is buried in a cave of dissatisfaction

We dug you up

To get robbed of priority

Holding hands is like temptation

Bloody hell is left for Satan

Takes a grip to make one sick

And hope is lost amid frustration

Don’t call me again

Caller ID is the new thing

To fall into the swing of things

Is to let go of the past like we never knew

That I’d have your number

But you know what?

It’s the flames of fruition

That suck up the strokes of my pen.

No one owns no one.

No one knows no one.

No number is known.

Ashes

Dying
on the inside
I believe in rebirth

Burning
through the layers
of masochistic insanity

I don't hate myself
I don't hate anyone else.
I just hate this feeling
That I don't belong

Belong perhaps
because of color and shape
Belong because of my name or my face
Belong because of right
Or terribly wrong

Do I deserve?

Its not a matter of comparison
I cannot be worse than a friend
I must only be the best
of myself
Standards on my own

But you, my mother, my father
My sister, my brother,
teacher and holder
caretaker, caregiver
You teach me the standards
I live by.

And yet they are my own.
Do I deserve?

Does this pain
correctly allocate the blame;
correctly certify the guilt
correctly advocate the shame?
Take this away, this seamless tide
of what and who and why I was.
Lies that name the darkest things
a person ever hoped to be.

I have been hurt
Let there be no lie.
The guilt gives me no strength
No moral fortitude resolves
What I have done.
No anger to vent
No soul to be rent
Poor savior, be sent
to my side.

I fear nothing more
Than the doubt
That I will make it out alive.
I couldn't care less for punishment
sorrow
If only I knew my heart would heal.
If only I knew my heart could still feel
The sunshine on a rainy day
And know that I'll be fine.

Dying
on the inside
Lying
in the rip tide
Crying
to be sanctified

There must be rebirth.
But do I deserve?

Soldier

The music is changing

The heart-springs that pull me apart

Its then that I know

I was less than a song from the start

Cause heartbeats don't change
the color of my skin
If you want me to break
It'll take more to win

My neurons are linked
like a twisted flower
I'm wired like a war-tank
Its built like a tower

You blood doesn't stop me shuddering
Holocaust is a revolution
of the gruesome infinite reality
Into sickening sadly sunken ships.

My works are sacrificed
for your every call to help
But helping is consistent to myself
And your eyes tell me you are defeated.

I am sick with your loss
You glassy-eyed thing
But I cannot stop
I report to the king.

Repertoire, Commissary,
Painless job, delivery

Its my job to administrate
the movement of the fireflies
Its my dream to stay awake
At least until the fire dies

And though you ponder
what controls me
At least my Captain
is raging free.

Storyteller-cursed to tell
Stories like an axe-on-tree
Its histories you're cursed to fell
And stop the truths from hitting me.

Repertoire, Commissary
Painless job, delivery.

They hired me for the face
That told them they belong
In a stopped-clock salary
I think my face was wrong.

And I am sick with losing you
Your glassy eyes still torturing
I swear there was nothing I could do
I keep reporting to the King.

Ignorance not worth this price
Your death worthier than your life-
It is my hope to be deceived
But truth is sharper than my knife.

Repertoire, Commissary
Painless job, delivery
I live and die in painless greed
Your king was mine
and we believe
In parking brakes and rusting keys
Change of gears
And we are free.

16^th May 2010