The slope is tiring
I have been diligently struggling
The top of the mountain is called bliss
My eyes scotched to it
I keep trying to reach its peace
Yet, I could not anticipate myself
Breaking into pieces, tearing myself up
From the depths of my heart
Wanting to keep focused on the summit
Yet, wanting to be touched by the magical fireflies once again
Wanting solely the intoxication and the play of emotions
As they invade my mind, writing poetry on the walls of my sanctuary
And creating ripples in my sleeping pond
Breaking up from the inside
Swallowing myself up from within
Drowning in my own starry sparkles
Seeking only a moment to explain
To receive and to hold on tightly to forgiveness
As a fully bloomed flower,
Fragranced and shining so bright that simply by gazing at it
The whole world would be dazzled!
I once tried hopscotch in reverse,
Backwards it went from bad to worse.
My hop was scotched,
My stone was botched,
I fell head over heels adverse!
I am the maker of your fear, says the silver ocean.
like the dessert sun to a scotched frog,
I strike the sand and bury you deep with each beat,
Too when the night is calm, and moon puts me to slumber
I lay heavy on your soul that pleads to turn dust and fly,
If for a minute.
I hear your cracks and whimper when my cold, cold, skin
Envelopes your breath with salt of Sodom
Only to leave, and return, and leave.
I willfully craft a moonless night of my eyes to your anguish,
Send your pleas north, to a different god perchance,
I have not vowed myself to benevolence.
A trillion stones surrender their selves for sake of sand,
that which is my bed to sleep, my dog to beat and to break,
Why then thinks a single pebble that a lion ought to save a deer.
I shan’t take the tedium of stillness, and not dance ashore
If that be your woe, so be
Long before your cries, long after, yours is to serve my whim.
Sharp blades through their stem
They evince smiles in all of them
Wrapped in plastics, bound by ribbons
Glittering in glass vases, beautiful prisons
They bleed in the sunshine for the bees
As the buzzers dance around petals and leaves
They could be moved from gardens to the graves
Like being sucked out of heaven to the hades
They could be with the joyous and those in pain
Scotched in the sun, soaked in the rain
They are adored flowers but all in vain
As they droop and wither to die again
Surely
I am not
The only one
I remember
Thousands
I walked with
For a non nuclear stance
Now
Silence
Even before
Those brave humans
That took on apartheid
An battled
The Queensland government
Silence
And where's
The freedom voice bus?
Students r u
Drones
Or
Thinkers and tinkerer's
Slowly
By surely
Walling our self's in
To a fake
Normal
A false
Reality
For a few
Control nefariously
That new brick
Surveillance neo capital fascism
And the masses
Rejoice
Behold
Our new brick
And don't the people wonder
After the river floods
And Chunder's
Or
The fire
All scotched
All burnt
Their left
Standing alone
Pondering
What's a government for?
Cause
Harvey an Woodside
Ain't gonna come
An help me
But, no
They accept it
To not
Is not
To be normal
So
F@#k you all
I am
Not normal
And I don't accept it
If I write
Just one word
That provokes
An act of kindness
Or
Spark of curiosity
Just a small
Twinge of the lips
Heading for a smile
I will have succeeded
And I have
Just as others
Of my kind
Have
Enthralled
As crystalline, fluffy without weighing much
White perceived so resourceful, black seeded
Hand red scotched, blood stains... sweat drips
Off checks, sun heating and its rays amplified.
Picking on one to fill the packing, turmoil out
Backs bending to the weights of humiliation
Lashed, whipped and driven off the plantation
Mother's corpse never buried, I was too busy...
With the selecting process so rinsed, agitated
A third of it turns be the darkened seedlings,
Yet to sprout and shoots forth anew tardy plant
If ever green leafed, elementary hope be drawn
And the other two thirds readily matured, white
Beheaded, readily being sellouts for foreigner's
Note, and us the bandits only knows of the yoke
And that oxen drawn plough, proceeds are theirs...
Where power rests
on a bed of roses,
citizens inquisitively lie
on hot beds of ashes
But when citizens
are scotched,
when the hot ashes
are no longer tolerable,
they put on sack- clothes.
They chant war-songs
of sorrow and agony,
as they wave spears.
Bushes around
where the animal is hiding,
are tortured with sticks
that carry big heads
in search of the animal
that snatched the father.
That is the time
the nation’s dogs
bark without biting
the eyes refuse to close
knowing that the time
for reckoning
has struck.
"Headline news! The rag trade is torn to pieces!
Dolls are strewn across the streets with skirts lifted high.
Headline news! Markets are buzzing with voracious bees;
Stinging for honey, for money to burn. Sly.
May I escort you sir to higher gains? Just feed the slot
Machine coffers with offers of fine dining and lustful desires.
Become bloated and coated, botched and scotched
And drink embers mellow as you repast by the fire!
Suits you sir! That suit should fake them and shake them,
For you look a right toff and in those two tone brogues
None can guess and think anything less of you and your suit
That is pin striped and blue. Welcome to 'Cafe Rogues'.
Are you a gambler sir? Do you place your bets well?
Do you prefer evens or odds or don't you give a sod?
There are no consciences here sir! We'll take your money
And spend it on honey and fine clothes by God!
Paper!paper! Read all about it, headline news!
Dolls are found in alleyways torn to shreds!
Escorts are fattened calves ready for the slaughter!
Suited toff is found dying in Savile Row gutter!
Gambling money spinner wins. Camera closes the shutter.
A lot said of Almighty’s modeling
Just a few minutes to lunchtime ding
Persons like thee make any evidence of such perish
You came out hot from a specific idea
From the horizon of my world
Your image burns like the Maghreb sun
As a mortal of black earth that was once green
I made special effort to collect my mouth after a grin
Which you planted scientifically upon me through a glance
Oh my poor scotched heart how will it ever decode
The messages you send from your bosom?
Upon the part of my lips
Your sweet name leaps
Straight into niche of memory
Gazetted for cauliflory
Creating a colony
There with live pixels
May the heavens bless your viability!
Your flower to be sweet upon maturity
And your virtues be multiplied as your pollen
My nose will never tire to drag in your perfume.
Who am I supposed to be
A tear in someone’s eye, not me...
I am...
Of what is possible if valleys rise into ice capped mountains
And rivers flow until their waters sink to spring into beautiful fountains
The unconscious becoming conscientised
Mother nature’s near equal, her blindsight
I am the son of the sun
I am a young people and time for me is still noon
I exist in all forms in all of humanity
My acceptance is only possible through humility
I am the son of the soil
Scotched from soul to sole
A creation to behold,
A history to be told
I offer my hand for you to hold
In return for greatness untold
My love is profound
Forgiveness is my threshold
My nose, is wide, my laughter is loud,
My lips are expressive, my poise is proud
I am an omnipresent spirit
I am white, shinning light
An unearthed dominion
hell itself exposed barren
here life has no opinion
death boldly the only option
riding the unicorn stallion
aiming his enchanted horn
man’s only hope and only weapon
galloping like a dart on a midair collision
a forbidden union
into a sky scotched crimson
of unleashed evil demons
a god in his own right in the heavens
aiming fire with ruthless precision
knights and braves fallen in his creation
death from another in a fireworks explosion
rebirth into a double dragon
And
somewhere
far off on
hills,
Dwelled
deep upon
a summit,
a dappled
ground
A cock will
again
crow to
his mates,
whisper
To the
world: in
earnest
plea or
sweetness
And
soothe a
air around
and tumult
Kindled
from the
market's
navel and
someplace
Off the
ocean's
empty belly
And be it
not sultry
darkness
dies,
Flatulent
chirps
risen from
scant
bushes
blare
Against
the sun's
rising
But for
ressurection
that
drowns life,
A stuff
which
existence
be
In the
misted
dawns and
sun-
scotched
grooves,
Sky's
twitching
eye to a
swarm
Of
speckled
wings. Let
this throw
To the
world a joy
sublime, a
feel divine
A joy of
everything;
a joy of
flesh__
a portion of courage is leading me,
i have written enough letters,
if you hear these solemn words know its me,
the sun has scotched all the nectar.
am surrounded by an outwit debt of promise,
that to the grave my heart will still keep,
and as dew starts to form on my eyes,
... i know you too will keep.
how do i say i miss you,
when each time you call i sink into idle tears,
the sensation in your voice,
and the images of your beauty seem to sever for years.
i wish i'd see the garden of flowers in your eyes,
maybe the rock of truth will sink,
that the new skins on my broken heart is a world of lies,
and is ending in the next blink.
i cant lie that i am ok,
when a deep loneliness has swept me,
come and be by me, my love,
and complete my world....
***********
Exuberance - heed
Stash dolor abyssal - hid
Guffaw - untrammeled
Blithe, tranquil - smile, not puzzled
Anguish, woe - slayed, scotched by glee.
************
The sun is high, high in the harmattan season
The easterline wind withered the petals of love...
I clasp my chest on the grip of blood-cough
As is cosmic rumble upon the heart core
Without a pull to the earth surface...
Anguish and solitude my face thrilled-
The rivelries are all gone, gone along with
The hand straps across high hips, the intricate
Smiles with freshened breath, and
The beaming eyes searching another for meanings.
Now the heart bleeds, bleeds unbridled-
For the flower stood,pale and shrivelled
Brown and unwanted, and like
Hindsight at twilight-moment
The truth stared glaringly at my face:
The love of a stanger is nothing
But a diamond in the rough.
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