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Tuesday, 31 January 2012

A deeper cut than most

Over tea and biscuit
In the comfort of friendship 
Here was a story I came to know 

Some cuts are deep 
Deeper cuts than most 
These are lessons I learnt from tales 

I read a story about a brave soldier 
Who crossed the sea to mainland  Europe 
To fight the enemy who threatened sanity  

This was for a just cause 
Where the defined line of good and bad
Was drawn clear on the conscience of soldier's mind 

Non the less, through the trenches 
Barb-wires and the rain of mortar fire 
The sounds that darkens the heavens from day to night 

He and men like him that stood on the front line of war gates 
Lost how it was to be, once innocent to feel pain, detached 
Tears stopped falling, giving way to numbness 

While friends he played cards at night with  
Laid torn, scatted and without life on muddy grounds. 
The next day as causality, to add on, a long list 

 A name was recorded on the memorial plank  
He w' be remembered as a hero a statue would stand 
His honor, this was a just war, I say and all agree 

No tears would  jolt rain on the floor we stand on 
There is non left to pour on souls gone 
He's was, a life given for a good cause, a just cause 

Yet a letter from home, tore alone soldier's dam down 
This was a cut too deep to bare, to say two weeks 
Had passed to the day his only son died,  it read 

He fell to his knees, to yell out at breaking point 
No war fields, trenches and sight seen 
Could numb this surge of pain 

The tears he held back for so long, as brave 
To maintain composure, could only pour out to flood  
"Do not show weakness to the enemy, it dampens moral"

He said forgive me a court martial 
My son is dead, dead and gone, while I was away 
Fighting for justice, some cuts are just too deep bare 

Monday, 30 January 2012

How deep is that rabbit hole

You know, simple says  
Tomorrow is another day 
After all, tomorrow is just another day

Some decisions are easy to make 
Based on instinct of reaction 
A yes, a no, simple to the answer  

Next question, then another  
I am good at this, no hold backs  
Without the need to pause, lament on ponder 

Simple says, confidence is at its highest heights 
When one is not being tested against the odds 
I am that good, with ease over obstacle paths 

Before a sudden halt in momentum 
Abrupt ends, stops forced upon one. 
No entry or regress in rabbit holes trapped

On test tracks, screech stop, emergency breaks 
Redundant keys to passage path ways  
Wonder lands, is that you Alice?   

When decisions come into their own element 
And throw doubt in every option given 
Faced down by the bull with intent to act

Who stands, who crumbles 
Who throws white towels in and signs on  
To the asylum house, stress break as last cards 

Monday always brings to focus, in focus 
Decisions put on hold, the weekend brought escape 
Monday always feel like a new start with apprehension  

And yet for every one of those days, simple says 
We make it, past lines of  interference shields drawn 
Simple says it best, when confident is at it height 

But who has that height 
When caught deep in the rabbit hole 
Simple says, life is just that, not so simple, "funny that"  

Sunday, 29 January 2012

A Jokers Trick

Why do you stick your big red tongue, out at me 
With jokers face you pull, to taunt me  
Grinning with laughter, busting out of your sides  

You confuse me with so many messages 
You send, back and forth like a boomerang 
Made from your chin, carved like a tribal mask 

Fostering images of confidence 
A' fun loving with joy, telling me to feel at ease 
But on sides I see your darkness with jokers tricks 

The sharpness of swords you wave 
That lie silent hidden with intent 
Like t' of the Sumaria, to slice my core unexpected 

Why do you stick your big red tongue   
Out at me, to gloat on tribal mask 
Confusing me with signals you send 

What does one do

W' does one do, illusion of characters perceived
You are so wrong, as said, as fingers point reaching.
Could I be, stood on solid grounds so strong?

And know not and see not, what not
As fault lines hold cracks beneath
Covered patches of temporary hold

I must be in luck, landing on this day
A stretch away from rest stops bundle
Before elasticity, in strings fail to hold

For Sundays, claim to heal wrong
That wounds can be redressed on war fields
To hold the fort, long as possible, on cracked roads

As defined characters strong hold belief
That broken bridges held on last string
Seen so wrong, so faulty, so weak, can stand

Gently, gently, to convey us to the other-side.
I choose to ignore the hype of sceptics wrong
So, so mentioned in debilitating believes

Now, that is to be my action plan
When one is asked the question on chess
What does one do, what is one to do

Saturday, 28 January 2012

Dove my crimson bleed

Dark drippy, flow of mount  
Pumping gust from veins detached 
Oh my heart, this crimson bleed 

I put a spell on you

Nina Simone came to me in my dreams 
She said words to me in sing song 
Gave me a chat up line, in my dreams. 

And in the day I walked, with infatuation 
My head in the clouds with intoxication 
And said to love, my love I put a spell on you 

Oh babe, I put a spell on you
This is the heart talk spell, felt 
My heart succumb to you in reciprocal 

#Coz you are mine 
My love, my babe, my air to breathe 
#Oh, I put a spell on you 

Auntie Nina gave me a spell for you 
To use on you, from the spell of loving you 
#Coz you are mine  

Friday, 27 January 2012

So I hear its Friday

So Friday is here again, tools to put down   
After uniforms, in blue colour or otherwise  
Neck hangs and the shoes prescribed 

 Hello kitty kitty!, all on board into the vibrancy  
Of easy wear,  pub crawls and late wake 
Drink and dance, to relax one's edge  

Tomorrow will have nothing  
To do with the alarm clocks  
Lie ins, would be priceless to indulge  

To spend a time, a good "quality time" 
With friends and family, neighbours if any  
Catch up on a few, standbys and merry 

Just don't mention Sunday yet 
Friday is hear to give an escape path 
Neck hangs a' shoes with pointy ends 

To down tools, and uniforms of otherwise 
So I hear Friday is here again 
Clock watch with excitement is here again 

Thursday, 26 January 2012

The man behind the curtains

If greed had a way to be satisfied , with spin 
It’s morality would not be t‘ focus of questions 
To be shunned to t’ fringes of society 

Ambition is yet a cousin of greed 
To want, so is the concept of inspiration 
Closely related, yet in different lights 

And thus the motivation to achieve 
Is the second cousin of greed 
A tool to enact such edges desired 

Where all, except the fallen angel of greed 
Are made welcome in high society 
And celebrated for what paths taken 

There is, in these banquets of great moral 
Always a side room in meetings, of class 
Where the great, venture behind closed doors 

Where the elite assemble, away from hang ons
To gather thoughts, hold hands, break ritual glass 
And honour the Skull a' bones and the Freemasons  

In such secret meet, greed is always at the helm
The puppet master, its human nature   
Being the man behind the curtains  

NB: Just to entertain you 
a read of the top ten secret societies 

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

The VIP Gate Pass

What language is spoken after the river crossing? 
Where souls of no shells, descend to hang their coats 
What colour layer is given, as badges to be seen in? 
How is one determined to be of one or the other?  

For here on earth, eyes, skin, hair, height, size and sex 
Helps to seclude and class, segregate with pigeonholes  
Who comes with fortune established from birthright 
To inherit thrones as easy, pizzy there you go, have it 

For religion to cry out, a' say Heaven  and hell is t' afterlife 
 I promise you oh friend, many h' bared witness to  t' "wreck" of hell   
In this "bubble" of life, far worst t' any that revelation pronounce 
And many have witnessed heaven too, in forms of many 

Much so, so much that, the gap between posts of pillars 
Is vast in ways the Milkyway would have to add another 
And another for distance to be measured 
In galactic space of gauge in gaps between the two  

Me, I "lumber" in no man’s shoes, yet my eyes cannot fail to see
And surely in my own encasement, I have bared witness
To heaven and hell, on this here earth, very here earth
To know how it feels like to have joy or pain, happiness or sadness

But above all, what language is spoken after the river crossing 
Where souls of no shells descend to hang their coats 
What colour paten is given as badges to be seen in?  
I cannot tell, I do not know, I wish not to know oh, friend 

For as it is  here, sh'ld it be t' same on t' other side 
Of the river's crossing and be known 
Then the system class of segregation would be worse than it is
In any form to be seen at present, than we have ever known 

I do not know, if the KKK’s and the Hi Hitler's , the money men 
And t' what not a' t' what not, and the this and that, 
I do not know, what colour or creed, gender or affluence 
What language is spoken after the river crossing, 

To know who has got the VIP GATE PASS 
If any, if any 
Do you know, if any? 

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

The clouds brings rain

The clouds do look darkly strange.
Not to worry my dear
Worrying minds do not settle storms
That's all there is to it, they just worry oh dear

The transitional period
Is the most testing time of all calendars
Where thoughts of doubt, fear a' emotion
Lingers, in the communal halls of the courts

Holding on to sentiments as opposing counsel advice
Trepidation of old shows face with dirt in the gallery
The last gasp of wind to breathe, before this is over
Before new paradigms are embraced.

The transitional period
Is the most testing time of all calendars
Stood behind curtains on stage consumed
By t' stampede of the wilder-beast's heart beat

And from here forth, hence forth
Tomorrow would be old and forgotten  
Wrapped around hills and mountains
We climbed up, as memory from yesteryear
Sure these are the keys, our earned stripe
To our bragging rights, in the halls of the great
Where adventures of actualization
Gets more exciting and intriguing in fulfilment

Where one is expected to walk with brave
Past the dragon with a whisker of breath
To have lived to tell the story as hero
And valued the story most, above all rewards

Exploration lies just behind the gate keeper
This is the essence of the journey
Buckle up and hold tight, old friend
This storm will only last for a while

The clouds bring rain
Rain brings a good harvest
That means you get fed
Why fear the darkened clouds

Monday, 23 January 2012

Enemy of the state

An old enemy knows 
More of my weakness than 
I will ever come to know of myself 

For they spend a life time  
In search to know my weakness 
Standing on the hills looking in 

While, I spend a life time 
Knowing theirs in cold contentions 
As a form of defence to prepare 

These are the principles 
Of war, paranoia, hate and politics 
To acknowledge in barring  

An old enemy will spot with trend 
An emerging enemy of the kingdom  
Long before the king's men ever do 

For they walk in the same corridors 
Seeking treasures of the observed 
Holding ransom my weakness  

I want to know what my old enemy 
Has to say, when an olive branch is offered 
Saying let shake hands and make peace    

Call it "lets be honest", critically 
Truth or dare and no offence taken 
Truly I want to know, it is to my advantage. 

This is a story about how 
The enemy of the state 
Gave the king heads up, before barrage rained  

Guess what, he did nothing about it 
With it, just left gazing for impact motionless 
Wonder why conspiracy theories have a frenzy after  

They charge the establishment 
With being an enemy of the state 
For not acting on heads up 

Mind you, stuffed beasts on walls 
Still gives  fright of life, who is to know 
To have become an enemy of the state 
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Sunday, 22 January 2012

What is a wave length

Tied in pair owning a smile, wave length 
What is a wave length, to be indulged 
To say we are on the same wave length 

And laugh and cry, on stroke into a hug 
Finishing off sentences unforced 
And what punch line jokes hold 

Affinity of vibes, a wink with meaning 
A smile with unspoken words   
On the same wave length coiled together 

Do I have to spell out and sketch
Laughing at my jokes, sharing my dreams
Sensing my excitement, or fear 

What is a wave length, 
Feel my essence like a touch of fur  
Is it when two people hold 

Two  similar strings and wiggle them  
To come out with the same dance 
Pattern of waves  formed every time 

Wave length, affinity, a spark, to tingle  
Would you laugh at my jokes 
Knowing what the end is before finish 

And put a smile on my face
Like the brightness of the daisy answering 
"she loves me, she loves me not" 

To be on the same wave length with me
To tie us two, a pair together 
A knot, to be your comfort 

Saturday, 21 January 2012

A good excuse

Tiptoe, tiptoe silent wander  
Sleep walk to the fridge  
If you catch me with a mouthful  

Sleepwalk is to be blamed  
Sleepwalk, sleepwalk  it wasn't me   
Sleepwalk is to be blamed  

Etta James - At Last

In spoken word  Etta James at last
Life so long lived, so short lived 
How far we have come, in such a short time 
So few know, names of once legends 

Time belittles the mighty, it comes so fast 
In time, just in time, chipping away 
Life and time makes frail wholesome 

The strong that once stood invincible 
Ali, Ali, Ali, Ali, shades shadows of legends 
Etta James, oh dear Etta 

With voice to treasure 
A break through, a pioneer 
A sister to the act in the act 

Some souls should never frail 
For truly they stand as gems 
To the fabric of humanity 

Such earth anointed angels 
Should live longer than the average 
For they are hard to replace

Do not archive my deeds
And live once so popular
To the company of curb-webs

Shake Spare has been fortunate
Let me be so too, to share
What chalice he came upon to hold 

Do not throw me to the archives
I was once named a treasured legend
Do not let my work die with me

I was once a sister on the stage
I filled halls and had standing ovation
Do not let me go forgotten

Attribute me a legend to remember 
A life of precious treasure lived
Oh dear Etta James, Etta dear, rest in peace

Friday, 20 January 2012

The Devil's Advocate

Sweet and sour  
Like ying and yang 
Always these two seem to come in pair  

One after the other, before the other
And another here cometh, behold "catch 22"
Duck down to escape their impact, too late  

Course and effect thread silk 
Laid invisible like traps 
Of the spider, a zap on wings 

Awaiting, awaiting to be devoured  
I hear they turn on each other
Spiders, two can't be at the web

How safe is the eye of the storm 
What of the centre of utopia 
Interconnection of the seemly opposite 

Playing good cop, bad cop 
False incentive, for which to favor a fool 
To confess to t' tricksters, a devil's advocate  

And they say, not all that glitters is gold 
And perception of normality 
Always has a hint dot of abnormality 

If one looks close enough 
Sweet and sour, like ying and  yang 
Always these two, seem to come in pair   

Thursday, 19 January 2012

A heroes poem

Produce a hero; a hero is needed 
Produce a knight to court as stand 
One with value more than silver's worth 

I want to write an epic poem 
Something with a hero defined   
Taking on the gates of irons; Illuminati of stupidity    

Battling through obstacles drawn  
Mansions, castles, skyscrapers tuxedo 
Dressed decorated in uniforms suit   

Neatly ironed with medals  
Cuff-links a' tie for oppression of the common people 
Tittles and prestige to intimidate with bluff 

That serves to warn, to weaken, oppositions  
They stand unopposed, on open parks gather  
They stand blustering with audacity 

For oppositions lost their tooth, and essence to fight  
Rushing to stock; hording on self preservation  
To save their skins, cowards are they, that joined the orgy   

But I want to write an epic poem for a hero 
Put blemish and cuts on the hero defined 
Who went against, and stood against self preservation  

Stood to fight the establishments candy 
Charity of a spirit held, like Joan of Arc or Anna Hazare 
To be victorious against the status qua   

The needy stand at the tilting edge of oblivion nearing 
Darkened shadows of deserted island, liberty cries    
Stranded with stones to call out on S.O.S for rescue 

I want to write an epic poem 
To give the stranded and modern enslaved a hero of hope  
And to stop lady liberty's sorrow so deep 

She holds her hands up to hide her face 
Obstructing her beauty that fades with unjust 
For into her hands are tears she cries    

So I want to write an epic poem 
To produce a hero, a hero of valor, a hero is needed 
For lady liberty is filled with sorrow 

And earth is held to ransom 
Being extorted and threatened 
With black mail and corruption 

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Stop error reason code 0x805000f

System failure, system failure,downhill   
Red light flashes on the screen 
Panic mood set on the high 

Error code, error code 
System failure, shut down  
Stop error, reason code: 0x805000f 

Alarm bells, alarm bells ring 
Brain traffic staggered on the high 
To which button to call on rescue 

Fetch the technician 
Quick, quick, quick 
He speaks in coded words of language 

He speaks in dos freak, I don't speak dos  
To understand abstract concepts defined 
Screens with letters blared to my eye 

Like latin to me, foreign in ways 
My computer just went foreign on me 
Awl to act, a rebel overnight 

Links to the soup of cacophony chat 
In the 21centry communal halls 
Cut sliver to pieces, jumble lay 

System failure, system failure 
Shut down imminent error code 609 
Running error codes 604, 606, 608 

Red light flashes on the screen 
My computer is speaking dos to me 
Stop error reason code 0x805000f 

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

An incomplete novel

Have a listen  on soundcloud An incomplete novel
All roses die, consume (d) in rose cottage  
All beginnings have an ending 
And the sun always sets after rise 

But I hope it is not the ending 
That I have come to know 
How could I have blacked out  

Just heard a word of the story being told  
And knew there was more to it 
Did I blink for too long, too long on lament 

And missed a chapter to the end to collect 
Something went missing, something w' missing  
Like the last book of Charles Dickens. 

What would the end have been 
What would his last words have said 
A' would t' villain known to be h' turned out  to be hero 

All roses die, all beginnings have an ending 
This time the author died  unannounced with regret  
Before last words could have been said to be content 

It leaves one with wonder 
And others with attempt to rewrite history  
What would the story have been. 

Some one took a chapter out 
And left this book incomplete 
And the same was said of Jane Austen 

It must be the seasons anger 
To have killed a rose before blossom 
To say all things die, all things die 

Even before chapters end  
What is the story being told 
Did I miss a chapter 

An incomplete novel 
Did I miss a chapter 

Monday, 16 January 2012

Relativity of my energy

Where now 
Who now, what now  
When now, as thus chapters readers 

Energy in form, a parable of thoughts  
Energy equals to motivation "check your weight"  
Times consistent, consistency, constant strive E= mc2 

Life is such that, at the beginning of voyage 
Where at harbours stand, lovers wave with vigour  
And confidence is at its bream, as words are cheap  

One is full of energy to burst,  
And full the distance ahead to travel pass 
Don't take my word for it, read the maps that stands 

The closer I get, the less energy I am left with, loose a kilo 
Like the lack of oxygen felt in Everest ascendancy  
To plant accomplished realizations digging deep 

So my tank lies close to empty, half empty 
If this is to be my gauge of measure 
I am that close to the journey's end 

I checked, double checked, just to be sure 
This journey was not started on half tank 
To be left a step frozen from the finish line.  

I will see the summit of Everest 
The gauge on my tank tells me I am that  close
I see it on the horizon, where my energy runs low  

Sunday, 15 January 2012

The Drowning of Atlantis

A lost tribe 
Beneath the sea 
Long forgotten,where statues stand  

There the man who points at his own stands 
With his left finger, a story to tell 
To please the west, I pity the fool 

I pity the fool in clown cloths
What was he made of, he was made of Atlantis 
Yet to have sunk Atlantis, for 30 pieces of silver 

Be taken ill by delusion, to laugh at his own to others 
For he has been made a guest of Rome 
A' so to think, it is that which blood, runs through his veins   

And serves to deny to death 
The once existence of Atlantis 
I pity the fool, for 30 pieces of silver  

It is he who sunk the last standing statues 
Of Atlantis, just to be given the keys
To the demented houses of Rome 

It is he who sunk the last standing of Atlantis 
Not knowing its true value to give 
Given of  what makes him defined, I pity the fool 

When even foreigners sing praises  
To the land of his make, and rush to become of it 
I just pity the fool, who sunk Atlantis 

For 30 pieces of silver 
And keys to the nut houses of Rome 
To be made head of Rome's degenerate 

I pity the fool 
I pity the fool 
I pity the fool 
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