Wildheart

Wild heart with idol mind

A beating star too bright her shine.

A thirty one in a race of twelves.

But a lady who has us best ourselves.

For natter, for chatter, nobody could compete

More than a solemn hours sleep proves her bittersweet treat.

Suave to the last.

Wildheart an overlord from future past.

Lifelong where will you lead?

Diverging paths grow from their initial seed.

Wildheart where in my life will you be?

Never become a long distance memory.

She Breathes

Wind cracked and smacked

The windows of her Earthly home.

Nature’s fury tested.

Positive.

Smoke plumes and suffocates

Her lungs tarred, chesty coughs collected.

She breathes.

Or sighs?

Children armed and deadly

War erupts, volcano masculinity.

Men are boys

Testosterone time’s test.

Baby in the sky in whose sky we lie

Where alone she can cry

Looking at her mother

Ask why?

Man is callus without class.

Mother’s blood boils.

She smacks lightening.

Mother is warning.

Unmarked She Says

“Come home” she whispered to

The memory of child so sweet who

Out in the day and gone for the night

Never yet returned to her sight.

Slight of suspicion plagues

Playground of worry touches all she says

Field filled with unmarked graves

Her son’s touch all she craves.

Crippled by guilt

It was her who caused her flowers wilt.

Join up and fight their war,

Nation’s pride in all what for?

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I Love You

I was an intruder last night

You weren’t home

Your house was alone

Luck was in your fate.

A fire raged

Each room glistened bright

Now remains an ashen site

Cremated you found.

I am not guilty.

Guilt is for the innocent, I went with a vision

An immoral mission.

I lost my morals as of late.

We could hide forever, together,

My blood writes to you in poetry.

Can you still love me?

Every thought I think you hound.

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The Estate

Where the dream starts and doesn’t end
In the bedsheets it’s time to pretend
To amend the wrongs of the day
In the bed sheets you will find your only friend.

Welcome to the Estate
A mishmash of proportions
Modern art in the Tate.
The Downtrodden you will send
Their money for nothing
Their problems polished in duffing.

A plaster of affliction
Corruption in the system
Could this be bigger than Watergate and Nixon?
Or stay hidden behind a Brexit election?

Welcome to the Estate
A mishmash of proportions
Modern art in the Tate
The downtrodden you will send
Their money for nothing
Their lives must mean something.

To the Pleasure Beach journeys the pleasurable bitch
Twin buggy and no man to hitch.
The unfortunate trip, holiday for the year,
Yet you still call her intolerable, leech.

Escape the Estate,
The dirtied slate,
A united State in hate,
Where the lost yearn to be found,
Rather you discriminate.

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Flicker Sound

Breathing in the Dark
Exile in my sight
The shadows all surround
They’re paintings to my side.
It does seem funny how
I came here to die
Alone, in the crowd,
Where the shadows all surround.

I’m living in my dream
,induced coma scene.
The lights flicker sound
Vibrations hit the ground.
A schizophrenic town
I came here to die
Guilt is my shroud
Where the shadows all surround.

A victim of the vote,
The ballot is a bin.
The shadows all surround.
Our protests are in vain.
It does seem funny how
,democracy has died,
No asylum in this town
Only right wing wins the crown.

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Living Their Dream 07/18

Who threw the first stone?
The initial hit wasn’t in 8-Bit
It was real, profound
Homerun, touchdown.

The lying cracks between undisputed facts
We were the mules being fed the gruel
While the Pigs feasted on fresh fruit.
Mother Superior is God.

Reality is foggy
We lap the murky water,
Drunk on reality TV;
The masses thirsty for the flood.

Who chose 24/7?
Who the first to claim Bush did 9/11?
Capitalism brought us the 9 to 5
The war on communism brought children closer to Heaven.

We were taught to dream
But warned not to reach.
Stay in line.
We are all in the sniper’s sight.

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