The party's over
You got in bed with the devil
And pulled the covers up over your head
It's a bed of your own making
Now you have to lie in it
And lie you have and lie you will
Over and over and over again
You'll toss and turn until morning comes
And after that sleepless night
It will finally dawn on you
It's time to wake up and smell the coffee
To go with your breakfast of crow
Which costs more than you will ever know
And we're all paying the price
Lying in bed with thoughts in my head, talking to Z, the girl only I can see.
She laughs at the moon and whispers to shadows, flickers at the edge of dreams.
“Quiet down down there!” someone shouts from above, either from the ceiling or the sky, I can’t tell which.
But the noise is all in here, boiling behind my eyes.
Stayed up late talking to the voices, at first a gentle hum, then a flood.
They wore no names, just wind-tattered echoes until Z said, “That one was your great grandfather .”
I stilled.
And suddenly, the noise felt older than me.
Carried on the breath of the dead. A lineage of longings passed down like lullabies no one finished singing.
They asked for things: closure, remembrance, a place to rest.
One voice tried to take me. Moved my tongue. Twitched my hand.
Like slipping into an old coat that no longer fits but still remembers your shape.
Z held my hand, her grip unreal and real enough.
“They just don’t want to be forgotten,” she said.
“You’re the first who’s listened.”
The room stayed dark. The ceiling didn’t shout again.
And I lay awake, mind on fire, heart echoing back a hundred years of unheard names.
overfed rooster had a harem of eight little hens
they brought his feed, as he sat on his whims
fattened him up, so that he started to look like a hulk.
He demanded cranberry juice, and they brought it in bulk
It is their fault I am getting bigger he told the goat next door.
They are always bringing me tasty goodies to store.
I spend my afternoons lying around in bed with a snore.
How much more can I eat? I am as wide as a door.
So what’s your excuse for a blind date?
My boyfriend cheated on me, what’s yours?
Caught my mum in bed with my girlfriend.
Did you say anything?
No, she was on top, so I didn’t want to do anything
Did you tell your Dad
No, my Dad's girlfriend killed him when she found out he was married.
Wow, you don’t have a sister, do you?
I do, but she’s not allowed within ten miles of the house.
Is she a psycho or what?
No, she smashed a chair over Mum's head when she caught her in bed with her boyfriend.
What, your mum was on top again.
I suppose so, it’s not really a picture I want to see.
Do you have a photo of your mum?
Yes, that’s her there.
Wow, I don’t usually have lesbian tendencies, but I’d do your mum.
Yes, a lot of people want to do my mum, I don’t get it.
Can I meet her?
Why the hell would you want to meet her?
I don’t know, can I be your girlfriend?
Is this so you can meet my mum?
Of course not, can I go home with you now?
My god, what is wrong with you, woman?
Can I meet your sister, why don’t we get married?
We’ve only just met.
I know, but I already feel part of the family.
Life in the phase of living it out is still enjoying itself
It produces small reasons for contentment
It hones the skill of distracting itself with trifles
Not unsuccessfully it attempts to insert a smile wherever possible
Knowing that there are no hopes, it hopes
In full accordance with the foolish saying that hope dies last
Life tries to become more foolish in order to gain strength
Still keeps some secrets nobody cares to know
It lies in bed with open eyes
Watching the performances of the sky or the chandelier
But life never looks inside itself
It must be damp and poorly lit down there
Wouldn't it be easier to play solitaire
Or look at the pictures of the sea again.
The hospital machine beeps,
My knees weak, the walls are bleak.
I'm bitting my cheek whilst the ward doors creak
I can hear the children shriek, they look weak through a sneak peak.
Explanations are oblique,
These children will be me in a week.
There's critique of technique for hell week;
which is not for the weak.
Streaks of blood, dizzy from drugs
Staring at the paintings of ladybugs
Trying to sleep with ear plugs
I want to smash a mug, the frustration builds inside, stuck in bed
Feeling like led, can't even eat bread, knee held together with thread, throbbing red, Feeling half dead.
I suddenly woke up in bed with dread for next week when I become,
the children who shriek.
In bed with you,
The swallowtails, I count their dots.
In bed with you,
Inside this box, the splinter rue.
This garden floats with spectral spots.
You seem cold now; I had the hots,
In bed with you.
Above the fray,
Where grass is green, and swans be loud.
Above the fray,
Clouds black and blue, the bullets spray.
The kissing lips of peril, proud,
With barely friends away from crowd.
Above the fray.
Seems a lifetime
Ago, our laughter gonged from bell.
Seems a lifetime
Lasts longer than a couple’s dime.
The ducks matter, but he wouldn’t tell.
Not in a row - all is not well.
Seems a lifetime…
Never work hard and miss the special moments.
Be visible in your kids' lives, or it will be a torment.
You will miss out on all their adventures and dreams
Because you're out there in life doing other things.
So take a timeout to look and stare.
Make the most of the opportunity without missing a glare.
Because the special moments will be gone so quick.
Your child is grown now, all married with kids.
Now you're all alone, waiting for them to visit,
For them to tell you, "I'm going to have to miss it."
Sadness on your face with no one in sight,
You go to bed feeling lonely, with no one to say goodnight.
You lay in bed with that anguished feeling.
Where did the time go? There is no healing.
Your heart begins to beat fast in tearful fright.
There's no one left, so you turn off your light.
The press is filled with gossip and chatter,
Like frogs and scorpions trapped in a bottle.
People have shrunk, it seems, in the end,
Boasting and bragging, but what does it mend?
The press spreads news with a calculating mind,
I’m stunned by the senseless gossip I find.
Some say they care for the nation's plight,
When they lay in bed, with husband and wife.
Digging for tales from deep underground,
Copying rumors, spreading them all around.
What someone eats or the clothes they wear,
Why does it matter? Does anyone care?
Why do we focus on parties and feasts,
When sacred treasures are starving at least?
Mainstream channels, they push their design,
To keep us distracted, to make us blind.
Is it the time, or have we grown old,
What values do we teach, what stories are told?
Fed by rumors, lies, and deceit,
A devil’s growth in our minds takes its seat.
Do you ever lie in bed with the voices in your head
Telling you their next plan
Like a disease that doesn’t go away
But this time it’s in your head
When it’s quiet and your reminded
Of your mistakes the ones that never truly go away
Sometimes I feel as tho if I shout out the world
They will fade, fade away
That’s when I remember
They aren’t going anywhere
In fact they are here to stay.
Watching & waiting while in hiding
and faking
Views for the taking but unaware
what is waiting
Freezing & shaking but is it fear or
its weather?
Snapshots for the taking posing for
them cuz it's clever
Good best & better to shy away
from the faking
Shade is made by the sun but it's
above what it's making
Shaking what has been rooted
leaving behind hollow winds
Seeds will grow from your efforts
toward the sky lose or win
Unoriginal in sin as we have seen
this before
Jumping the broom of timelines
looking for knobs on the door
Turning in bed with a snore as if
you've slept through the test
Sleepy & lost in a dream snoozing
on good better best
Picture a snap at its best frozen
in moments of time
Painting a picture in jest with a
stoic face like a mime
Mimicking raps like a mime with
painted face like a canvas
The dry humor so wet that only
fish understand it
Above thee underhanded so keep
the slightest of hand
Close to the vest like a secret
ducking birds on their Stan
Peacock with a colorful stance
with truth outshining the lies
Your essence shines like the sun
& this is what is despised
I.
It used to be a normal man
could work a factory
and make enough to buy a house,
see that his family eats.
But now the jobs are all off-shored,
there’s nothing much left here,
one man did try to bring them back,
they shot him in the ear.
The elites make too much cash off
cheap labor far away,
are in bed with politicos
(If not one and the same?)
No tariffs and high inflation
makes everything too hard,
young folks are renting, cannot own,
it’s all been pushed too far.
The globalists have made their choice,
they’ve sided with the few,
see their evil and don’t forget
what was taken from you.
Quote: "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
By -Eleanor Roosevelt"
________________________________
I am enraged when coffee makers explode.
The dog barking at neighbor's door irritates me.
Also the vivid couple in bed with loud stomping.
I am irked by those who squawk as such beings.
Pride is typically a fine stone that will endure.
But some find it a tough rock to tumble over.
My reward came from a wealthy aunt's death.
Things rise, and then further challenges emerge.
Moving from a one-bedroom flat to a house.
The bounty of delight has fueled me to excess.
My opponent will destroy democracy
But my opponent will normalize hypocrisy
My opponent pays hush money to whores
Well, my opponent snoozes in meetings and snores
My opponent’s in cahoots with radical progressives
But my opponent’s tax cuts are regressive
My opponent is in bed with Putin
Well, my opponent for Iran is rootin’
My opponent’s spending will stoke inflation
But my opponent’s plans will increase starvation
Enough! Stop! Cut! Halt!
It’s not all the other guy’s fault
All this negativity makes one thing clear
I’m voting for the first candidate I can cheer
Laying in bed with a pillow
solitary holds a teardrop
under the radio’s thumb;
Turn it up the rhythm’s flowing;
Now I’m ready I’ve got ammo,
that fire song meant for a rooftop;
Never again will I feel numb,
no matter how things are going;
I’ll bet on that Summer anthem
to take away reality’s sting.
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