Tasting the sand

The monster of this harsh debt ridden  soul that harbours
A mind with razor sharp misguided teeth like scissors in a barbers
Don't allow that perspective hair to stand effect on the back of your neck
You freckled faced induced son of a bitch  on heat fire drivin caustic.

I will sing for you until my throat  goes hoarse
Like an abandoned nags  knowledge put out to pastures forced
My fingers tremble in a nervous jelly of diagnosed shell shock
The trenches plague my thoughts like scissors and paper then rock.

Bombs I name fireworks disturbing the cells and I try to sleep.
Yet the drum beat I tried to lull  continues to crawl and creep
It disturbs and disrupts cutting through my dreams like s blade on a wedding day cake
But I go on pretending my world is alright yet I'm a fraud and a fake.

I have the taste of the sand and the waves in my mouth
My compass is destroyed I know longer know the north from the south
I just stare into a background space from my nursing home bed
They just force feed this foi gras goose till I can no linger lay and I am dead

Will life ever realise I was a chapter of its book
That I contributed to the tapestry and they gave me a dirty look
And if heaven awaits me I'll tell god of my trials and deep tribulations
That I boarded the red eye and made a difference at hundred thousand stations.

The inspector may have punched my tickets but I made a difference you see
I've nurtured generations through eyes of wonderment and glee
And yet even st the end of the railroad tracks I still taste that freedom sand
From the D day landings and the breath of the air in that ever lasting  land.

Absolute mute

My tear ducts are dry like a camels lash memory
I can not cry dew on a web intensity
Yet I met a girl and she made me smile
And that means the globe and my mind danced for a while

A poet needs a muse to awaken the thoughts
To rehash grey matter talent like a mother who taught
Me to produce a stained nappy to clean
Reliant on a strong woman on whome I can lean

Her eyes enchant me, like the butter does melt
Amongst a divine intervention, whose touch I have felt
Across waves on the ocean, a listing ship bow dipped and uneven
I must act as a top hatted gentleman, no more of the heathen

She glances at me through a futuristic screen
Yet I know one day we will camp in an igloo we dream
The future is hung so we draw and we  quartered the real
And we giggle at accents and we revolve like a wheel.

Perhaps one day in tomorrow in the next matrix chapter
I will be able to serenade her with music and laughter
Until then I will bookmark till we can meet absolute
The greatest of friends yet our emotions remain mute.

a gas filled balloon.

About now my suspicions are tied in a knot of doubt and realisation
In the creator of a volcanic mind driven to the absolute
It doesn't matter I know that you drive at a hundred years an hour
The gray cells playing against the devil standings engaged salute.
I tremble internally amongst the shadowed graves
Pickled cucumber mind striving silhouette succumbed in infuriated embers
This bastardised life this lighthouse of evil piano tapping against revolution
The presidential light elasticated against the form of a non elected family members.
Do I one day return to simple simplicity to count the ants in brain
The cells that are attempting to figure out the Treasure trove of insanity
A belly dancing all foil and sabre fencing caustic knight without a sunset
You'll either live or love or play with my strings to entice the satanic goodness in me.
It may be time to gamble on the shamble of a constable countryside hay way
It maybe time to reveal the inner truth of the inside
No point in a leaden pencil to eradicate the mausoleum of this life force
A billion inter planertry observation, no point to abide and hide.
I'll quit right here in the den if our babies complicated learning thought
Il quit while I'm ahead of the a head the head of dislocated process of intrepid internal exploration
Of insipid jazz painted blues of dark hues and purple intuition
The earths forming doom denied the formation
Of a simple gas filled ballon
A trick of the light that happened so soon
A dance on the lightening storm
A trip to the moon.

I once polished my boots.

It's nineteen twenties Chicago and your leopard print dress is shimmering on a smokey shadowed stage
The world has a cigar dangling from the frame of its mouth
And I called forth the Jazz embued smoke of horizons
We neither head north nor reached into the throat coated south.
The hat wearing gangsters see through Tommy gun moon shines bars extraordinaire
She clicked her fingers dislocating the notes in an echo of the hall
A strawberry blonde delving deep in a bouncing share to pair in despair.
Eclectic black and white on faces and early repetition
Hit the highways packed with a double bass and sacs phone sexed
You can not let them beyond the tickets of admission.
For the sake of having you near I polished my boots
Just so I could see my jaw as it dropped on seeing your soul
The realms of the candy girl who threw her heart at me
We clung to each other, two lonely ghosts during the ball.
And so the orchestra displayed the notes and taught me twenties illusion
Created good and disallowed the wonderment of a pin striped suit
A Valentine's Day massacre pinned against the grey matter wall
In death they screamed. In death the cling to the absolute.