There's a hole in you
The pictures cannot fill
And the buzz in your head's
The end of the road.
Got a voice crying inside
An extra leg for the final scene
To wedge yourself in the trap.

Formula for a reckoning
And the skin-sweet symphony
Is a tasteless curtain call.

So far from the truth
You aren't sure what you believe
And cling to the glittered lie.

Lost in the dungeon. A joblike description.
I find that I'm living. In space.
Occasional contact. The echos of combat.
Ring like a contractul race.
And all of these people. Are dancing in circles.
They try to excape from. The maze.

Dancing on landmines
Attack the bushes
It's a forest of apathy
And you licked the lightbulb
To crown your dignity
Filered through crowd control.

It is natural
Your freedom draws near
An under-Scriptural
Currant grinds our tears
We fall like flies
To the freshly cleaned floor.
(It is against the wall
That we find courage)

Waterfall you call
To me, Your falling
Music so free
Waterfall you caught
Me low, And carried
Me on stepping stones.

Waterfall I never
Find a landscape to be
Owned as mine
Waterfal you carry
Me to the shallows.

I think I am screwed in the head sometimes.

Flashback
It's over
And the moment
Plays, jagged recording
Of the halting steps
That lead, staggered
Innearingly, to the final outcome.
If only
Playing differently
The past was
A different future
Waiting in the shadows for me
To grasp it's reality
A logic puzzle to solve
And add life to a list of successes
Badly in need of extension.

Sarah

She took us to the dark
To nurse our inner child
And running scared
The children fled
The forest deep and wild.

I am not afraid of the nightmare
It’s our imagination
Running here and everywhere
We stand tall together and how
We fall, we shall never know

In evergreen shadows
Playing tricks on our minds
The world became
A silent reign
The harmony of the blind.

And we beheld mysteries
So wonderfully ferocious
They tingled through our senses
And beat us senseless
We stand tall together and if
We fall, at least now we know

No posts for a week.... shocking.

The lounge and the bathroom
My humble kingdom
They say that you wanted
A place.

It's tidy and simple
Ideal for the working
Man on his way to
The top.

Think of it as investment
In permanence
And a change for the better
To come.

He who is afraid to die, is afraid to live.

Awake ye sleepers
The fires of dawn are upon us
To forge a purer humanity
And gilt our humble frames
With the failing lights
Of the stars.

I lie awake asleep at night
The jukebox plays our song
Atleast it was the other day
But theses things change

A thunderstorm
A jack-o-lantern
The neighbourhood's not safe
Not for the children
Why are they in noone's mind?

We lie awake asleep in thunder
So alone and so close
Hunted by our personal demons
Is theere safety in numbers,
Or a teeming horde of fleeing rats
In a maze

It used to be the television
Spoke only fact
But lately I've begun to wonder
Is humankind really so objective?

We risk counterrevolution
When our gun chorous peaks
Another microevolution
Utilize the weak

Goliath rises high
From the ashes of corporate pride
Tears fall in the country chapel
They sing themselves to sleep at night.

A star-spangled fate
Crisscrosses our path
The way ahead in blue and gold
And red, you do the math,
Subtract the poor
Divide by hunger
And multiply
Till we alone are left

The phoenix in the clinging ashes
Our sacred pillars, altars all,
The fires of the stars
Our newfound chorus
Enlightens the eye
As the jagged rain falls
And washes clean our past.

I dig this hole
Cause you can radiate everything you speak

When we are together
My mind and vernacular coagulate

The sky is clouding
And grey is all the colour I need

If I climb out
All my work is undone, like ice in the sun.


We dissolve together
And float away
An iceberg in the sea
From some polar place
And in the sunblindness
We turn and say
"Isn't it nice to be free?"
As we dissolve together.

I grip the unturned storm in my exposed palm. Trusting fate to the whims of a menacing horror. I find peace through pain, atleast the dull ache that hides behing seeing, behind sensing the truth. Would truth lurk still in corridors if I turned on the light? But the dark is my thinking space, my brooding, where thoughts drift haphazardly together, perhaps to reform new ideas, and crush the old. Will I grow old and die, still strangled here by the poigency of my own worries? There are always more questions than answers at hand. Below the surface, the ice, the skum, the pocket lint, there is truth. If you discard them that unsettle and discomfit you you are no better than the uneducated. But even worse, for you have spurned the light and saught the dark. The darkness, where thoughts collide and form something a little bit new, but still with a faint glimmer beneath of that which was. Is this just a vener or am I vaccilating from study? I guess I'll never know.