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Random Selections from 10 years Collection | Poem

It's the embryonic tears
dwelling in your eyes
and it’s the melancholic fears
alive within goodbyes,
It’s the desire for life
as the bullet enters your head
and it’s the desire for death
as you take your first breath,
It’s the paradox of tone
and it’s the clones of the unknown,
It’s the jeopardy of luck
and it’s the chances that obstruct,
It’s the self defeating conquest
and it’s drowning beneath the waves crest,
It’s the vision of God drunk in the gutter
and it’s the hard slog for mouldy bread
                                  and frozen butter,
It’s the roller coaster of dreams
that forever remembers what it means,
It’s the homecoming queen
and it’s the outgoing fiend,
It’s what’s up your sleeve
and it’s the want of your needs,
It’s long boring screeds
and it’s eloquent seas,
It’s doors ajar
and it’s whores with battle scars,
It’s glass jars
and it’s going too far,
It’s quenching thirst on mango minds
and entangling language amidst raucous rhyme,
It’s lush exploits and alien thighs
that welcome strangers in from the night,
It’s sparse skies
and it’s holy water eyes,
It’s everything and nothing
and of course it’s all a lie.

And now that
the moon has run
her fatal orbit
and the dire mangle
has been further tangled
and is now knotted thus,
Now that the cries drift in
as sound made image
from afar
and the strangers rendezvous
adorned in smooth velvet
amidst the raucous scene,
Now that the buried jewels
laugh at the fate
of the foraging face,
So note we now
of dead end desires
deja vu dreams
and mute town criers.

You know
I think that their’s somebody in the house
you better close the bedroom door,
I’ll grab the shotgun
and then we’ll go and see
what we can score,
We’ll tip toe down the corridor
our hearts jumping at every bump and grind,
We’ll lose our minds
as a shadow whispers across the wall
and sends us blind,
We’ll take a fateful look at the clock
because it’d be nice to know what time we died,
We’ll feel a hand upon our shoulder
and scream until we’re deaf,
But even though their’s nothing there
we’ll still sense the presence of death.

It’s during the noiseless nucleus of the night
whilst others sleep
and confront the fright
of their dreams
that I, Intoxicated and devoid of disguise
shed light upon what it means to be alive,

Ecstatically entertaining fantasy
and embracing what excites me,
Drinking the wine
and setting the slaves free,
Committing the crime
of feeling divine
and savouring these rare moments
of clarity,

For I know that when the sun rises
it will again be time
to stumble and stagger
through the blinding alleyways
of my soul,
Deaf dumb and blind
dead before I’m old.

I’d like to click my fingers
and pull a rabbit from a hat,
But I know that their’s
no ABC for that,

I’d like to spread my wings
and fly out across the troubled waters,
Ease myself into the air
and escape the rape and slaughter,
But my shoulders are rounded
and I’m gravities slave,
I know that their’s no way
for me to fly away,

I’d like to walk into a room
full of alien faces,
Tell a joke
and hear the laughter save us,
But I know that the grave
is the place that life most favours.

to Moongate

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