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Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Lost Innocense


Or Ramsay's kitchens, Ramsay..
Is that not a name of a place on a show..
Showing life stories, in Aussie land..

I know a life story..
Of once upon a time..
Long, long ago time..
In the before wilderness, la la..

Before butterflies lost their innocence..
And hysteria, became the dance pattern..
Of disturbed wilderbeest, on stampede..

I knew a girl once..
Who made lilies look common..
But she lost her voice..

Over the rainbow..
With colours of golden straws..
And sparkles from diamonds..
Rubys and gem stones..
Safai and fragrance scented..

She once had a voice..
That brought Saturday feel..
To everyday noon..
Sent babies to sleep on sleepless night..
But then she lost her voice..

Shame that is, she lost her innocense..
Ravished to look into pandora's box..
Of hell's nightmare, reality on earth..
And  she was never the same again..

For the tingling melody..
In my ears has gone silent..
Like after the best opera song..
Sang for the last time, never to be heard again..
In Puccini ..Madame butterfly..Shame that is..

Her's is with cry now, in lost innocense..
Her voice broken in throats..
By the thunder outburst, of invaders hands..
That engulfed her world, in broken egg shells..

And I curse the day his was made a life..
For on that day her's was, doomed a life..
And she is now with lost innocence.. 
In violated cherries popped  raw ..

I said I once knew a girl 
I knew a girl once in life stories 
Who's innocence was robbed by the boggy man
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Tuesday, 29 June 2010

Start Line, Finish


Look away , walk away..
Or forever, hold your peace or torture..
Of visions locked in memory..
Flash backs in ground-hog days..

It is really tough, starting up..
That is just a given..
Like post stamps on envelopes...
The Postman is only interested, after..

Come fly with me..
Lets fly, lets fly again..
Runways needed,  for flights paths..
And you better be ready to run..

If you are with the squeamish, doubters..
Parental advice given to the innocent..
Grab a brown paper bag,  for regurgitating..
Sea sickness, on voyage..

Like with a booze, a little sippy sippy...
One is never sure, what reaction..
The other will have..
Assumptions are dangerous..

Just so you know, on assumptions made..
The fat man, turns to out last...
The skinny man on drinks...
'I will drink you under the table' said he
When the drink start pouring out, of fountains...

But on walk paths, through Sahara's..
No one knows, who makes it to the end..
Mass over time, plus distance travelled..
Assumptions are dangerous; I say...

Unknown elements in the equation..
Are like black elements in the Universe..
Perseverance is twins to success..
Under rating, mining, is a foolish man's guess work..

It is really tough starting up..
But I will see you..
When we get there, if ever we get there.. 


In poetry,..
That is just a step, over the finish line..
Just a step....

Monday, 28 June 2010

Out Of Place.


Something about, a chicken bone..
Left to rot, on pavements path..
Not a sight, seen by the naked eye..
But for the eyes, in eagle's sight..

Look to see, ..
Its there, its there, I see it there..
In stages steps of transformation..
Stages sets reached, in sedimentation..
Sat in gravels, looks like  gravel ..

I did crack it, if it did be freshly mine..
Go for the juice, it hides inside ..
For I am that known inclined, 
On my chicken bone taste for sure..


For the partially blind, it blinds
It blends, in camouflage trickery ..
Its not to be seen..
A blend with nature..
It is of nature, be left with nature..

Oh no, but not for the eagle's eyes set..
It is seen in sight, its seen in place..
In place be it, thus not to be, in places seen..
In the gravel stack sedimentary reached ..
Its not a gravel, hence its not to be there..

Something about the chicken bone ..
She wants it out, ..
She needs it out,..
Out under her skin, it crawls in gravel..

Something about a chicken bone ..
Can not be left in natures hands ..
On her patch, oh no, not on her patch..
She wants it out, she needs it out now..

Sunday, 27 June 2010

Pearls In Shells


I have not said words, of oyster shells..
And what it hides in pearls, for a while..
I have not sat, call to common, before open fire..
Sweeten ears, with dialects in alphabets..
Of delicate rhyme...

With feelings, like heaven's cream..
On slices of loaf,  in indulgence take..
For a while; freshly baked..

For a while, said what, asked who..
Watched who in observation..
For a while, day dream of 
On spell bounds..

In words put together 
As one does, for a while  
One after the other, after the other 
In magic wands, creating euphoria in 
Stories told; what is romance 

I have not said words for a while..
And hungered, starved eager ears 
Of valeted, wax free ear drums 
Are awaiting with excitement to be made aware 

Sat with silence, awaiting vibrations
Of sound waves, to tickle their senses 
With joys of stories told..
I have not said words, for a while..

Deep dive, down into oceans blue..
Oyesters with pearls treasured  
Being harvested from nature as rare 
Cleaned, to be placed on necks, as jewelery..

I find myself in the middle of..
Affection's courtesy, bowing on formalities 
I am with aprons, for a while
Still awaiting baking cakes.. 
And pearls in oyster shells ..
Have just been found..


I have not said words for a while.. 
To jinx the charm of what treasure holds 
A gentle, gentle blow on flower 
Is what is required to ensure a good luck charm 



Saturday, 26 June 2010

Tempered Troubles, free verse

If you coming, with an attitude..
That to me..
Know this from me, to me..
I am all made of rectitude..

What is your latitude, gravity..
Gratitude, longitude..
Your compass broke ..
So you sailing blind, off-course..

Of-course, now to me..
It all makes sense to me..
Your buffoonary explained by..
Your pills, still sat on tables top..

I told you, remember this in tablets taken..
One before the sun is out..
Twice before the sun is down..
Sweet dreams, before the morning break..
Remember what to do, before the sun is out..

Someone said, something said..
Something to do with an empty barrel..
Rolling down and the noise it makes..

Patiently waiting, like a light switch..
And my currents are on safe mood..
Still packed is volts of heat in my veins..

I am with patience..
Having a reason to be..
Being that, I am looked up-to..
A role model in some sort..

So I keep my cool..
And the rage under ..
Like an un-awaken volcano, in oceans..

Friday, 25 June 2010

Hat's Off..


Trains to arrive on time, in Disney worlds..
We are off on summer holidays..
Sun switches, sparked on with grin smiles..
Shown on faces of the masses..
In synchronised mind sets, of holiday moods..


Bikini, bras, shades, and story books..
What else to be pack in, oh yeah ..
Sun cream, sun cream lotion,..
Very much needed, cancerous burns to be avoided..
Man oh, man's eyes all wiped clean, it's for the looking..


Time out being put on, tax man's slavery ..
Indulgence enjoyment, requested, deployment..
Empty space of memory box..
Made readily available to be filled in..
With executions in activities, done on occasion..


What, but with times of alternate reality ..
Enjoyment, recreations, deemed demanded ..
The King's request, it's carnivaly..

The holiday season has just began ..
Lets merry make, ..
Making memories to be cherrished..

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Talking Parrots


Word of mouth, word to mama..
Oh my; he talks a lot, she talks a lot..
With a zip, zip,zap, zap, zip zap..
Chatty, chatty, chitty, chitty, bang, bang..

This about that, about they, about them..
Talk about him, about her and all the others..
Hey, did you know, did you know..
And on and on and on and on 

I heard that story,..
Before his version, before her version..
Cooked up, patched up, fallen off..
Slippery tongues, mumbling burst..

He chats a lot, she chats a lot..
Word of mouth, Chinese whispers..
Porkies, pack of words, word to mama, ..
Oh my; he talks a lot, she talks a lot..

About this, about that,..
About who said what..
Oh, so not interested ..
'Fine; that makes you the next target then'..

With eyes set, sight locked, in stare look..
He said it loud, she said it loud..
In whispers, rumble, ramble, mumble.. 
So much to say, oh my ..

He talks a lot, she talks a lot..
So to the next ears, to be invaded..
With a zippy, zippy, zappy, zappy..
Chatty, chatty, chitty, chitty ..
Bang bang, zippy, zapper, chatter, ..

He talks a lot, she talks a lot..
I heard my name, along the line..
From staring eyes, being cast on me..
It was from him, it was from her..


They talk a lot, my ears now hurt
He chats a lot, she chats a lot
Watch out for him, watch out for her..
But never when subjects are present 

Wednesday, 23 June 2010

Summer solstice, Oasis


And to this day, "note to all weird poetry"..

Said to be the longest day..
And why  be on a Monday..
Yes Monday, working day, long day ..


Just after, the weekend be..
Gone for four days, more to come..
The gods are at it again day, laughing mad..

Someone, something, in something said..
Someone said, something about poetic justice..
To do with Monday being the longest day..
Summer solstice,  fallen on a working day..
Choking me, in neck tie worn, dry throat gained..
Sat behind desk, of 9 to 5..

This be on Wednesday now..
Three days in of 9 to 5..
Sat here writing off, on Monday's stories..

Happy place, happy place..
Send yourself, to a happy place..
Lets mark, lets tick, lets jot..
The good points down..

1.The sun is out..good..
2.It's midday now..good good..
3.It's midweek now..goooood..
4.Two days left for the weekend grace..nice!

Oh but it fell, on a Monday, working day..
And all in week of 9 to 5, the sun is out..
It's midday now, still more in hours to go till 5..
And sauna burning in office seats, sat..
Warming body temperature up, in ovens ..

But for the feel of quinchy taste..
Summer's fruits, in Oasis drinks..
Making passage, down my throat..
Oh such feeling in ecstasy joy..
Mimics, my Saturdays, feels so good..

Told you it was a weird poem, to start off with.. 
"Note to all, this is not a commercial take"..
Found myself just enjoying a drink..

Tuesday, 22 June 2010

I Hate Romance


I hate romance, and what needs it creates...
Ho ho ho, in presents expectation..
And the grievance gift, it bears in parcels..
Only to have been seen, after acceptance..

Before indulgence, we were whole..
Need not, want not, desire not..
We were with peace; of some sort..

Pieces, pieced together and sufficiently full..
In half full cups, content are those who know not desire..
A child's innocence, in absent need for what craves..
We have in need of, in romance indulgence..

The poor will survive, on what starves the rich..
A dollar a day, now that's a blessing..
Waste not, want not, desire not..
Crave not,  for the riches needs..

What was the start;..
Oh yea, I hate romance..
And what needs it craves..

And now I crave for indulgence..
While once I knew not, need not..
Before addiction's holes were left in me..

Oh yea I hate romance ..
And the emptiness hunger..
Of emotional feed it craves..

But for the feed of companion love..
I so adore, desire in, indulgence..
Like the feel of high, romance high..

Monday, 21 June 2010

The Fifth Amendment


It's like one of those days..
When everything I touch ..
Is just razor sharp, cutting me..
And I'm just bleeding.. .
Profusely without reasoning..

These demons that haunt me ..
They cloud me, torture me ..
Leaving me feeling all dazed..
In my own encasement..

Case held high for scrutiny..
Duty is, duty bound ..
Trouble is, am still cos 90..
Truth be told, in tempers flare..
Where bubbles bust..
Not sure if I did or I did not..
To be pronounced guilty or not..

Moral compass missing magnetic directions..
And we are lost at sea, sailing blind
Where though, where thou, where thou at..
Where thou is my lawyer wife..
Who said to say, no comments..

To everything no comments ..
Just one of those days..
Of compromises, compromises..
Resuscitations breaths, for survival guide..
So to everything, to say ..
No comments, just no comments..

Make of it, if you would, what you want..
In pleasing thee, of prosecuting suits..
Just from me, is the fifth amendment..
One of those days, I reserve the right..
And everything is in, no comments ..
Just no comments, I plead the Fifth..
Just one of those days, in no comments..

Sunday, 20 June 2010

A Father's Day Story


I always knew in words, in stories told..
The ant, the grasshopper and stories told..
What lessons learnt, in moral of stories told..
And to the man, who said it first to me a thousand times..

It was like a prayer, said to me..
It became a prayer, of recital rhyme..
Like the Lords prayers, said by me..
Each morning wake and before sleep at night 

To know, what lessons it holds..
Oh Son, Oh Daughter, oh child of mine..
By the man I first knew, in men as a man..
As a Father, with a fathering love..

I look up to, he drives me on, in inspirations sort for..
I respond within, with outward achievements gained..
And in rewards returns, of recognition gained..
For which no other man, can make me feel..

Do you know in stories told..
The story of the ant and the grasshopper told..
I learnt it all, a thousand times and more..
From a Hero, a Father and what lessons it holds..

Saturday, 19 June 2010

To A Father's Day


Numbers left for number's crunchers..
Sweepers, sweep on road paths, army in cleaning..
Flour sacks, stacked, packed in rooms, of bakers bakery..
Hooks on hooks, lay hanged in, butchers butchery..

Milk  van floats, heard quietly moving, on milk rounds made..
He waits not for Christmas to deliver his presents..
Postman head through letter box slammed..
On front door ways, barks of woof, woofs follows after..

And now you know why ..
The postman not the milkman..
Got chased by the woof, woof..
For he disturbed the woof, woof's beauty sleep..

The farmer sat in combined harvesters..
Step by step, he filled up his trucks in harvesters..
With fruits and vegetables and a whole lot more..

Little Vienna, sat behind breakfast tables..
She looked bewildered, and ponded how..
How her breakfast got onto her table..
Before the morning, break of dawn..

The who, the how, the whom..
For the many men,Fathers Thank You..
He who, Who did lay a banquet..
And served little Vienna, her morning breakfast..

And her daddy his letters..
And  the father's  day card..
She gave the postman, the night before..
Before the morning break 

Friday, 18 June 2010

Stamping Out!



I will suffer painfully..
To gainfully elevate myself..
From spiralling down with gravity..
These roads of smoky casket..

While I sit,..
Twitching, twitching, itching..
I tell myself, I am not addicted..
To the poof..

Yet my blood boils, with adrenaline..
Demanding to be made calm..
By the poof, poof..

Like a primate in a cage..
I beat my chest restlessly, relentlessly..
To be let go,..
Allow the poof to serve its purpose..
Of giving me the ahh feeling..

Ahh to my death bed..
Of breathless breath..
Choking, clogged up, on the ahh..
Of yesterdays poof..

So I will suffer painfully..
To gainfully relief myself...
With elevation from the ahh..


Ahh  poof, poof of casket beds..
I am not to be deceived..
By the craves lust of the grave..
No more, no more..

Sleep Disturbance


And the silence loudness...
Of the midnight hour, keeps me up..
Like a haunted soul with echoing voices..
Heard in ghostly whisper..

These from thoughts...
In head's shells, running riots...
Why does sleep not come to me...
What is with this vigour feel..

Of all times, this one, this time chosen..
To be, In the midnight hour...
When lion's hunts of my tasty blood ...
Is given to rest , he's gone to sleep...

So let me be, in calmer waters..
Let me see the dream makers robe...
Let my eyes close shop for the night...
Let me in, into dream worlds arena..
Let me sleep, and awake to a new day...

Thursday, 17 June 2010

Trading Places


What was it to be, in trading places..
Between a bullet and a target..
A rock and a hard place..
Placed on tracks, tied to rails..
On paths of run-away trains..

And who dare stands behind..
Pushing trains, adding to acceleration..
In velocity gained "It wasn't needed "..

A doomed, dammed man..
Cares not what colour the rope..
He is to be hanged with, looks like..
Putting things in situations, in context..
He rather be set free, sail free, be pardoned..
"As he forgive those who trespass against him"..

To air is human, that is just for breaths..
Anger in emotions are more intent..
With red mist; rage that follows..
And it's catch twentytwo..
With no ends of winning..
Doomed if he does, dammed if he doesn't..

A wounded beast is more of a danger..
It's best to keep one's distance..
Desperation, obliterates principals guide..

In characters played..
What if the dice thrown, did end..
On your number, trading places..
What if, what was it to be, what if..
Whats your number, in trading places...

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

On Stage Fright


I will not yet know, why apprehension..
Engulfed me and every step I took..
And spiders web, 
Laid siege to my ankle..


Watching spartan's swords melt..
By the sight of sun , on battle fields..
After chants of "this is a good day to shine"..
Had been sang..

And my voice 
Was without sound..
Shouting out loud in maim..


What little there was..
Vibrated in earth quake shatter..
A second passes, 
Just left fright in earth tremors..

I have watched toddlers grace this stage..
And comedians, oh comedians..
Making some laugh, 
Love, cry and hate..


Others read, from others inscriptions..
There made it their own, 
In spoken words verses..
Acts that follows..

And I wrote this, this is my words..
My own words, 
Echoed in thoughts projection..
And I be made, the author of..

But my knees gave in,
Into dance pattens..
Of shaken vibrations, 

I felt myself losing it..
Sweats on forehead,..
Gave evidence to observers watch..

Why this hesitation, 
Apprehension's weight..
This is my words, my own words..


And I will not yet know why..
My knees gave in, 
My knees gave in..

Tuesday, 15 June 2010

Contradiction In Life Stories


On a wall stood, was contradictions..
Painted in frames upon frames..
Draped on top, from top to bottom..
In narratives, banksy's stories authored ..
In abstract..


With painted stories told..
Some left blank, blankly staring..
Some with mirrors, of self reflection..

Then, a heart, a girl, a lion..
Run for your life, ..
In graffiti inscriptions..


On a wall stood, was contradiction..
In love and hate, orgy of emotions..
What to make of it, in questions asked..
I know not what, in confusion answers..

But the girl looked happy..
The lion sat down, did so..
Sit! like a good dog,..
No roaring around here, you hear..
To her command he obeyed ..
He still did have a dodge look, on the side..

The heart in forms of balloons floated..
Up in the heavens, on strings she held..
Filled with helium, of laughing gas..

Still with contradiction, and in confusion..
Of what, a heart, a lion, a mirror ..
A girl have in common..
Have to do on a painted wall..
Run for your life, in inscriptions warning..

Monday, 14 June 2010

I Want More Cheese


I want more, much more  
If I go for less, I am less of 
Still needing, much more 
To fill, fulfil my half full cup 


I want more, much more  
More to be said, to be done 
Much more to be gained, on cheese 
So I sweat for the harvest, escaping traps; I want more 

I want a hip more of stardust 
Not, nope a pinch less of stardust  
Much more diamonds, gold-dust 
Much more riches, to make t' king envious  


Sparkle in star lights, my ownership set 
Bright up the stars right where 
I look to go past, beyond in cheese hunt 
And claim my own, on what t' eyes sees 

Like Pavarotti's need, rest his soul, for more 
Pasta, pasty, pastry , cookies..
Cakes, muffins, just much more Muffins..
Before the opera for curtains close 

I am not greedy, like a greedy person..
So I wouldn't begrudger others in steps..
In stepping stones, steps made of them..
To fulfil their dreams, climbing ladder 


I did rather give a helping hand..
To the deserved of them 
Be nice to them..
Appreciate, what effort they invest  

But in fulfilments of, self fulfilment...
I need to do more, 
Want more, much more..
On my own accord, in dreams 


To cross bars of milestones 
Set in pavements laid..
Of ambitions, set 
I just want more 


Much more, way more 
Set on aspirations gained..
To walk these paths 
Of achievements made..


I want more, much more,..
If I go for less, I am less of..
So I want more,  way much more..
Than a greedy person 

Sunday, 13 June 2010

BP 's Troubles


Nothing new here, on this earth..
Nothing said, nothing done,..
Nothing new, in love and hate..
Joy and cry, In wishful thinking..
Birth and death, hungers grip,..
Nothing new, here on this earth..

Nothing new, nothing new..
But for that, in man's hands made..
For a blessing of being intelligent..
As a curse for the same thing be..
And in greed in indulgence..

Oil spill in ocean blue..
And death becomes of all things aquatic..
In living swimming breathing, chocked..
Just for the sake of being man made..
Nothing new here on this earth..

Oh and for that sake..
Just that sake, what tragedy...
It bears in equilibrium scatter...
Of saboteur, by man's hands made...
Nothing new here on this earth...

Just a time table to be ad-heard to..
Man in charge, man in charge..
Who went and put man in charge..
And for his intelligence as a curse..
On mother natures back gardens..

Nothing new here on this earth..
But for the tragedy of man's hands made...
Playing God, in natures back yard..
Nothing new here on this earth..
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