Apologies Religion

Raped like a duck, fucked like grandma with a stick and told to                                        stay quiet. Rapists in the bathroom waiting to spread you out like                                  plastic and idolise your soul. Animals of sin breathing dirt into every                               single useless pore.

Kill them like monsters, fry them like terrorists.                                                                  Touch them like sadists, kiss them those haters.                                                                

I have no religion, i am nothing i have nothing                                                                          I am sick and scum and fucked, i am sad and strange and shook.                                      I am poor breath crossover pacified, silk and shine before i even                                     asked to die. Cremation i submit to everything. why does it matter?                           

My body is not a temple you have seen me, you have seen me lurch                             and crawl pretend to be secure. Falling apart like breadstick bricks used                      to build the 4th dimension corridors. The banging, the ringing of cellphones                 the dire dispatches of metaphors you killed her and yes she is lost. I raped her                and now i am caught.

Kill them like monsters, fry them like terrorists                                                                  Touch them like sadists, kiss them those haters.

Savages effortless hanging from silvercrest, the bars and the walls                               denegrade happiness. Bulging eyes platitude, torture my solitude                               sores on my face, back, arms and attitude. Neon less sympathy                                         they eat out my apathy. Commit crimes you die but only for a little while.                     Black souls like mine never burn out til darkest night. 

Ashes furnishing, blameless and worshiping the fear of departing                                 within still sounds cathartic. The sweeping of a body my body my mind                         into everlasting hell bruised but not blind.  

This is about the demise of a rapist in prison as he suffers the same fate from inmates as he inflicted upon a poor unfortunate woman. He can feel the end coming as he is about to be set upon and killed for his crimes. So he takes the time to examine his soul and look at the conscience or lack of it that made him commit this crime. There needs to be realisation that there are consequences when you commit such crimes even ones as grave as these. Ultimately he will get what’s coming to him and his soul will never be at peace no matter where it ends up. That will always be the black mark upon him forever more. 

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Inside My Head Is A Volcano

I wish i could stop it. I wish it would stop for a second perhaps                                              a minute if i’m lucky, the thinking the slowly drifting into temptation                                       of thoughts that shouldn’t cross my mind or ever bear fruit but sadly                                    do. I should be nerveless, strong and like a soldier but i am weak, pathetic                               as i get older.

She drifts through everything, all the beauty in her eyes, her smile i see                     perfection i see her undimmed by any of life’s demands. Sparkling like the                         thinnest diamond that made crystal, dreaming like the sweetest silouette                   entrusted. How could i get from there to sadness? How could i let perfection                drag me to the other side.

Inside my head is a volcano and i’m on dusty ground alone                                           Inside my head is a volcano and my heart is left to spun unwound.  

My reflection tells my thoughts to love, to set free the saddening of                         solstice in my deepest farthest hall. Holding on for too long is never safest                when clouds interrupt everything and lay it down to be disturbed. I am                        reckless but i let it grow and like animal collective it infects disjointed                 embodiments of rain.

If only tears could stop the flow and send it to a sad corner to sleep and                              die but it would come back to me and never let me smile. Inside my                                 head is a volcano and i’m on dusty ground alone. Inside my head is a                        volcano and my heart is left to spun unwound.

I saw your soft skin in every dream i had it was magical and made me                      turn my face to heaven and thank the presence for everything and                          anything. Respect for the majority, browsing winter to come up with                             ideas for summer.

Split my soul in its infancy and grind out its territory but keep you                             close without letting it let me down.                                                                                Urgency, fear, closeness, strength to feel shame for my sadness                                     when you are more than just my friend. 

Maybe my head is a neurotic mess filled idea of venture and imagining the best parts             of everything but it is also awash with feelings of fear. Mostly a fear of losing those close to me. It is irrational, without reason or control that i can go from thinking about someone i love in the most incredible happy way to thinking about how my life would be if i lost them. For instance last night i was thinking about a girl. A girl i have met and became really close t. I consider her more than just a friends, she is amazing in every way imaginable and i think about how beautiful and incredible she is every day. So my thoughts about her are always happy but every so often like last night i can go from those happy thoughts to ones of fear that something will happen and i will lose her from my life or something will happen to me and i will no longer be able to be in her life. I do not know where it comes from, whether there is an insecurity deep down but it happens with other people i care about too. I struggle to control it for those few minutes and leads to feelings of heartbreak and sorrow. Maybe it will never leave, maybe it will always be a part of me something i have to try and manage and try to figure out as best i can but it is something i truly wish i could avoid. 

Destructive Angel Pissbreath

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean”   Maya Angelou  

Socially awkward situation. OCD and lack of sleep                                                            Drained out, shut up manifestations, needle pain and no more dreams.                         Who made you the fucking queen?                                                                                      I made me the fucking king                                                                                                 Who made you the user bored?                                                                                                 I made us the ones adored.

Champagne juice the devils drinking                                                                              Every glass desensitized someone screams for us to stop                                                But all i feel is fucking lost.                                                                                                 Clowns for comedy fall on chairs, pretend we care                                                              I don’t think the future’s there, it sold at zero and bought at eight. 

I have a mind, just a sad reflection                                                                                     You live a lie, based on all rejection                                                                                    I wanted a life of love, i want acceptance                                                                         But you need filling time, til death                                                                                       Until your post penicillin safe selection.

I’m sure a mirror laughed at me,                                                                                      One of the expensive ones you see                                                                                        And asked you kindly to hide your face                                                                               Nobody dead or living can ever be replaced.

Who are these friends of yours? I think its fantasised to fit                                                the crime. I don’t know anybody here i just want to drink get high                                  then die ya i just wanna drink get high then die. But you will die first                           Destructive Angel Piss Breath, you make me weak you make me sick                            Destructive Angel Piss Breath, this party is a prisoner and you’re the                        fucking jail……… cunt!! 

I have a mind, its just a sad reflection                                                                                   You live a lie based on all rejection                                                                                       I wanted a life of love, i want acceptance                                                                           But you need filling time, til death                                                                                        Til your post penicillin safe selection. 

This is a poem about a couple at a party. But they are no ordinary couple. Behind the charade of normality there lies a deep and sad story. One of substance abuse, personal abuse, relationship abuse. When they are among friends they make it seem normal like they are just like anybody else but they both know the opposite is the case. They are both sinking and sinking fast. Deeper into tragedy and despair, deeper into hopelessness and fear. There is very little left to their lives except the pretence. They barely recognise any of their friends such is the depth to which they have sunk. The anger towards each other is unstoppable and sharp. And will lead to the inevitable of a murder suicide or one of them has an overdose. It is an almost unescapeable and inevitable conclusion to this mess of an enabling relationship.   

 

Spanish Flowers

“Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable”  – Bruce Lee

Sweet like a beating heart, with love and oxygen flowing right from the                          start. Pomegranates rich and pure and light, petals crumpled multi coloured                     in the dead of night. Velvet softness feathers fly with pride and relax back into         its sharpness and its style.

The Red Carnation Of my dreams tonight, the arrogance of how i feel inside.               Weaving like a princess ran and thought, the flowers in her hair for which i fought. Our love the strongest it has ever been, we first laid down by the flowers near the    stream and talked like we had known each other years and were the soulmates we were meant to be.

I ran my fingers through your hair and said “I cannot believe that we have met”      You only see this magic in movies made, boy and girl in perfect love replayed.         These Red Carnations smell so sweet and true, they are the only gift i need to give     to you. So you know how i feel tonight as we lay down and get swept into the      crimson fading light.

Inside our hearts are jumping with delight and forming pretty heartshapes in the sky.     I whisper sweetness, a confident surprise, i love you more the more we stay alive. You gently hold my hand and slowly say “You are my prince, my hero you are my true love this day”. No time keeps us guessing nothing to turn around and force back all the distance that once had let us down. 

As birds sing so proudly and the midnight mass draws near, i take you in my arms and lay you down beneath. In the beauty of the trees, the shaking of my knees we make love under moonlight and feel our hearts still beat. Lay there every morning as the sun rises east and captures our perfection when we breathe and when we sleep.

Spanish Flowers eternally the passion and the strength of all they want to give us    our compassion and our friends. Pomegranates, Bluebells, Carnations and Lantana, Valencia Rose of greatness they gave us our adventure.

This is a poem about meeting the girl of my dreams and finding us both in this magical place full of beauty, mystery, happiness and joy and showing that girl exactly what she means to me. Just being with her, both of us together at night with nobody else around would be so perfect. We could hear each other breathe and speak softly intimately and quietly. Somewhere in the Spanish Countryside where they make wine and dreams on a calm, perfect Spanish evening by a stream without a single person to bother us. We would make love all night and get lost in everything that we loved about each other. I purposely used Red Carnation more than the other flower like Pomegranates, Bluebells etc as Red Carnation are used as a symbol of passionate love between boyfriends and girlfriends and giving her just one of them would show here how much she means to me and how deeply i care about her.

The Remains Of Bruising

Your heart is haunted like a thriving meadow in thrashing season.                                    Your soul is sculpted like frozen dead weights dried, frozen in the fires                              that echo hope and forgiveness burned alive. 

Weighed down by brightness and desire as it filled out into the long                               unwinding sky. Your smile, a forever sweet surprise, unchained the                               memories spread on shoulders i use to cry.

The remains of bruising, it takes longer to mend a broken heart.                                    The stored up sadness, soft protected weak and winding, the children                           of the hopeless, bleed and blinded. Slept with their escape, their dreams                       alive like torture in a prison on their knees.

The loving hate of witches, twisted scorn. Of roses dripped in sweat and                       losing thorns. Scars that symbolise the fight for a new dawn, to rescue you                  from pain you did not cause.

Willing people start to see the truth, from years of angry wasting strength                     on you. They don’t find grief immortal noise, the pain free pushing soft applause        sealed with a kiss, smiling still not caught, abusers fled out to the coast                     and taught, the youngest kids the ones most sweetly lost are the victims next                for victory at any cost.

The remains of bruising, it takes longer to mend a broken heart.                                    The stored up sadness, soft protected weak and winding, the children                           of the hopeless bleed and blinded. Slept with their escape their dreams                       alive like torture in a prison on their knees.

                                                                   

This is a poem about the physical abuse of children and the pain and suffering it can cause. The physical pain and scars can heal but the emotional wounds take a lot longer and in may cases will never heal. I was watching a documentary recently on the terrible abuse suffered in the awful Catholic schools of the 40’s and 50’s in Ireland. My parents would have been very young around then and to the best of my knowledge they did not suffer the way thousands of children did, certainly they have never shown any signs of it and for that i am thankful as i’m sure for many families out there this has left a lasting legacy that lives on in their children who no doubt a lot of this abuse was passed on to. It did not just affect those children back then it affected the way they treated their kids in the future and the cycle spread through generations, It was wholly unacceptable and wrong back then and it still is 60 Years on and will be in 100 Years or more.

It Played Out Like Suicide

“You cannot be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with”  Wayne Dyer 

Does a boy with skinless face separation ever really fear the future?                                  A week of isolation, a temporary morning of desolation. The murder of manic obsessive creeps comes with taking advantage of all their dangerous needs.  

A fog in a wood forest, sublime and overwhelming. Contemplating suicide but             get lost by noon. I don’t know his sins, i don’t get past pretend. You say his shame          is the oblivion of all future dreaming, the target of affection torn down by all heartbreak and rejection.

It all played out like it should, there were moments of panic, minutes of worship             A gender dissolution, a conscious execution fried head of pride, the lies                        a sorrow so swollen up inside. 

Take his knees and make them weak, take his heart and make it start to feel the       anguish and suffering he has caused. He is not alone, there is no starting point too low. Gradual and deep, mortuary cold bodies plain in grief.

Swallowing the tongues of torturers, as trophies to keep from now until eternity.         A symbol of the fightback a method for the cleansing and a prayer for                forgiveness. He cannot feel a thing, he can only hear some branches in the             background rustling. 

And then it hits, the coldness, the sadness, the loneliness. He cannot forward            this to anybody else, it is now his choice, he is forever weak, alone and still lost. 

This is a poem about the tragic circumstances that leads to suicide and the pain and isolation a person can go through when coming to the conclusion that they need to end their own life. It is often through the hurtful words of others that people are made to feel like they don no belong. In this poem the victim Swallowing the tongues of his torturers represents his desire to stop all the hurtful things people are saying to him, the people who are bullying him and destroying his life. In the end he is left alone in a forest lost and feeling like he has no choice, he has nobody only his own thoughts and a desire to die, to die alone. 

Self Aware Suffocation

“Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement”   Golda Meir

I depart but i do not let go, hand over hand the exchanging of handshakes.                 The talented self-assured foggy exercise. Warmth of a stranger his breath on            yours. Meeting in mid-air colliding like old friends who glance and nodding know what to say without saying anything.

All irrelevance portrayed in glimpses, fragments of touch its all too much for                my suffocating soul. I know its there it knows its place to choke the energy in         every limb leveled by endurance.

Meeting at a distance, whispering and listen, the foggy exercise now bereft of          closure. Sudden weight of pressure lays it down and lonely, waiting for                 reciprocated glory, not forthcoming i don’t know you all i see is crystals in the foreground. Eyes that shine like bright lights on a dime. 

Correspond to letters or types or highs or lows or forever and nothing more.           Splashing like those in a row with arms and legs blue and worn. Nothing to fear but the fear of losing all feeling, going a day without seeing, the people who give life to     all meaning, the people who challenge you into believing.

The concepts, the passions, the senses the wilting. I depart but i do not let go,                i am amused by this relevance, which i plainly choose to always ignore. 

This is a poem that challenges the concept of the social norm which seems to suggest that in today’s society you need to greet everybody with some kind of formal greeting like a handshake or a kiss. Its bizarre and irrelevant to feel like you need to do this with everyone, even people who you barely know and have rarely ever met before but maybe a friend of a friend or something. You don’t know them so why should you be made to greet them like you are long lost best friends. Fuck it, sometimes a knowing glance is enough to let somebody know you recognise them from your distant past rather than having to go up hug them and pretend you give a fuck about how their life has turned out. Fuck social norms and what society makes you feel like you should do. Be yourself with yourself and around others.