What you doin’ up there in that clock son?
I ran up here to watch, mom.
Watch what, son?
You remember my three blind buddies?
Yeah, them scoundrels Hickory, Hickory, and Doc.
Yeah, they the ones
They say they gonna chase after the farmer’s wife this morning;
I wanna watch.
Well, I ain’t never seen such a thing in my life!
Youngsters today!
Those boys gonna lose their tails one day with their tricking!
Mark my words!
It’s just fun, Mom.
Okay, son, but you stay out of it, you mind.
You comin’ home for lunch?
Yeah, I’ll run back down at one
just before the clock strikes;
hates it when it does that.
Okay, son,
I’ll put some cheese out!
You are locked away in a frozen mist
Your hand once warm upon my knee, my phantom limb—
the sky atop your shoulders I kissed.
You were never a man who balled your fist
Instead, your eyes had guilt in a chrysalis brim,
And for that I find my cold love an agony to resist.
Yet there’s a delicious and chilled knife to twist
And I can gorge myself on your blood and grim, oh once!—
the sky atop your shoulders I kissed.
The world may burn like Hell, that’s the gist
But flames are the rough tender warmth, and at your whim
I’d rather endure the icy planes of the forgotten than the missed.
Is the curse to become you, or have me for you to dismiss?
My grievances do not choose to end, so I reach up and skim
the sky atop your shoulders I kissed.
Through the mist I see your figure, this tundra shall persist
So mark my words, only with the sun shall my love and hatred dim.
My lungs freeze with my heart, I cannot again sing your hymn
For the sky atop your shoulders I kissed.
STARMAN
I return, but it may be the last time here
My voice ignored, my advice not taken
This last opportunity for all of humanity
Mark my words they do not lack clarity
My visits are not to seek any popularity
To my warning, surely you must awaken
When another comes, you will know fear
Some consider me an angel, but I’m not
A time traveller, just follow my directive
As a concerned messenger from the stars
Appearing to you as one of many avatars
From other distant galaxies, not just Mars
I retain more than one global perspective
Space is very cold but a supervova is hot
Please believe me when your future I tell
You’ve one last opportunity for reversal
The human race may have run its course
Many fake leaders you must not endorse
Ignore my warnings, you’ll feel the force
The life this world gives is not a rehearsal
As all of you by now, have heard of Hell
A child like omen, bereft with tears,
Hearing the word, conjuring up fears,
Try though he did, to not upset God,
He found himself, in another sinful bog.
Growing up he heard the words,
"If you play with fire, you will get burns!"
Not that the solemn child did,
But for every mistake, the child had hid,
From a punishing God, to a parent,
The things he had done, were not readily apparent.
Forced to grow up at a tender young age,
He tried and tried his best to behave.
Sometimes it's easy, otherwise it's not,
But this child believes it is worth a shot,
And though God had other plans for this troubled
Young mind,
The poor poor child was still left behind.
"I will have my revenge upon you," so said that child,
"Mark my words, it will not be mild."
"I will feast on your spirit, to be more godlike,
It's the only way that I can make it right."
Since Christ had died for the worlds sin,
This little boy decided to give in,
To take his life so as to be without it,
He felt he'd triumph so he shouted.
He fell asleep in morbid depression,
He took his life, as he did not like the lesson.
Once upon the dark
walking in the fields
Mark my words
The blind confusion of life
Peaceful walking
Paying your last respects
One by one they pass me by
When I consider my disillusionment
When your time is close at hand
light causes strange illusions
Just remember be strong
You are craving for me I know,
Settling for dust even on snow .
Stop already ,I am coming you know .
All packed are swords ,
Peppered with rage of sorts .
You are to loose ,mark my words .
South has eyes lurking ,
With talks poaching ,
For the suderland cee who knows no revenge.
All ready are their booggy traps ,
So is east, the mother of whammie raps .
I was once on laps ,
Now relax .
I wont trip or relapse .
Nonsense feeders, just useless
Impeders, slow and lazy in a walk
To cake, sluggish decievers wasting
Space; even though theres plenty of
It they still waste it we're sure of it
Coulden't they be in canary yellow?
So all could avoid the stupid fellows.'
Have they got familiy? Who'd own
These bums, david hurly might be one?
He's quite the lyre-bird we've heard.'
In thrall to the who-lers mark my words!
Sack the lot.' Kick them out.' Carping
Skiters, that have no clout.'
Questions are proliferating,
people search for answers
in old pants pockets
in long discarded purses.
The scampering feet of baby philosophers
can be heard from the moon.
The media is stymied, they are manipulating,
confiscating and hiding behind the backs
of massively overgrown ballers,
willy-nilly they scribble an alternative reality
upon indoor swimming pools.
The manic mayhem of our daily grind
is wearing our hair thin,
Somebody should take control of the truth,
but it keeps dodging questions
and slamming doors behind it.
Mark my words with invisible ink,
scratch a cat behind its ears,
somersault all you like
but we are all getting overrun
by imperfect pontifications
by the indecent Doctors of spin.
and all this endless self-questioning
keeps replying over and over again
but only in unbreakable code.
Some GUY wanted to SUE me; he had a CHIP on his shoulder. Just because of a picture of ART that I DREW of a ROSE that I threw off a CLIFF in the RAYNE that landed in a BROOKE on his property. I was STEW-ed, KEN he do that? To be quite FRANK with HUGH, I think on the EVE of the court date the judge WILL CHUCK it out the window. MARK my words, the LIL RICH JACK won't ROB me. I'll speak into the MIKE, Jump with JOY... and have a fine glass of SHERRY after I send him the BILL for the court costs. I'll just turn the PAIGE and wait till DAWN and go vacation on some SANDY beach. I'll let that DICK BOB for apples.
Okay story told, Now I'll go work out at the JIM, eat some eggs with a sausage PATTIE and then go release my emotions in the JOHN
Christmas cards and credit cards
and lists of much to plenty.
It's choking Daddy half to death.
They think I'm made of money.
Give me this and I want that.
It's more than I can do.
All the money in the world
is never enough to suit.
So I'll tell you what I'm gonna do!
Just You Mark My Words!
I'll bow my head
shut my mouth
and go quietly back to work.
I can vividly see your dim lights from distance
but still can't imagine your love for instance
The closer I move towards you
The more I realize I'm a fool
The more I realize I'm a fool
The more I imagine a possible coup
In your corrupt regime,
let me be your saviour, maybe a bottle of champagne
Mark my words
we are exactly, what mama call love birds
We are the evil holy angels
and the last living legends
As I enlarge my arms for a hug
Beware that this sweet man, can as well be a thug
So, what purpose these wars serve?
Why on earth everyone is silent?
If everyone wants peace,
Then who the hell is fighting?
How can some 'big' people decide the fate of millions?
Why the suffering ones are the commoners?
What about the kid who just became an orphan?
What about the bride who became a widow shortly after marriage?
What about that old couple who just lost their loving son?
How can people turn a blind eye, at all of them?
What are we going to get from all these fights and battles?
The laws made to save humanity seems to make no sense at all.
Mark my words,
Nobody ever wins in a war.
Both sides ends up with the same suffering and misery.
John Brown died in 2019, it's sad and it's true.
If he hadn't died, today he would've turned 52.
We met at Bean Station Elementary School in 1979.
We quickly became friends, he was a buddy of mine.
But during the last few years of his life, he caused a lot of grief.
He didn't want to pay back what he owed and he became a thief.
When my back was turned, he swiped twenty of my pills.
I wish that it was just a bad dream but sadly, it was real.
I didn't know that John would turn to drugs when I was a kid.
Mark my words, if you do drugs, you will die just like he did.
[Dedicated to John Brown (1970-2019) who died on June 3, 2019]
Read the room and wind your scrawny neck in, Mr Putin
Mark my words, the West are gonna stick their size ten boot in
No-one here has fallen for your good-for-nothing plan
So pop your pacifier in and get back in your pram
Heed the world, the Bulldog and the mighty Uncle Sam
We’ve seen through your bravado, it’s all arrogance and sham
You brag about your weaponry to stifle our rebukes
But you won’t get your way by simply mentioning your nukes
For that's some twisted logic just to get what you desire
When if you blow the place apart and set its bones on fire
The only prize that you will win, as far as I can see
Is a massive crater where your hopes once used to be
There’s bullets with your name on, any one could leave you dead
Should a sniper plant one in the middle of your head
Perhaps a comrade soon will smear your door knob in the night
But read my lips you cretin, it ain’t gonna be Marmite
There is another option that you could attempt of course
Which is whipping off your shirt and then cavorting on a horse
You tried that once before and looked a proper numpty then
I have to say you’re looking like a numpty once again
No matter what I say, you’ll never understand,
For life is but a flame, that claims every man.
In days of kings, they had knights to reclaim,
A steady hand with arrows to aim.
Swords at the hilt, to plunder their path,
Nothing could stop the inevitable bloodbath.
While the innocent wept, holding on tight,
Even though they never started this fight.
Blood spilling freely on the cobblestones,
All I could hear was the awful moans.
You may think this is an ancient tale,
But mark my words this is no fable.
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