nothing...

...but this

golden bliss.

The sweetest drink,
To touch my lips.
A gentle trickle,
Of bliss.
An endless hour,
Goes ticking past.
A nectar ale kiss.
A loving cup,
A golden mead.
A hour gone,
An hour I need.
Time to me,
Is an old wrist watch.
Battered and worthless,
Upon a wrist.
A gentle ticking,
Of golden bliss.

Frozen Rock

Give me an iceberg,
So I can point out,
One tenth of my problems.
So you can sit,
And figure out,
What it is that bobs,
Up and down.
Issues are yo-yos,
And solutions don’t come.
Sunlight is the answer,
And warmth would help.
That could melt this cold harsh mess.
But it is almost night,
And dusk makes,
A fool out of me.
Constantly mocking,
And heckling.
And at the end of the day,
When my problems,
Are melted away,
And the sea has risen…
Will it be my fault,
There are homeless and dead?
My selfish fault.
I have guilt,
And plenty reason for it too.
I’d do better to bottle it up.
To put a stopper in death,
And destruction,
And have hope.
Hope I can ignore this frozen rock,
Before it crashes into me once more,
And drags me deep down,
To the sea floor.

my empty head

My empty head,
Sits upon my shoulders.
Portals look out,
And survey surroundings,
Which are bathed,
In light and dark.
Sacks of meat,
Hang twisted,
Painted grey and blue.
Dull thump and a sharp pain,
Is not uncommon.
My empty head,
Is isolated,
Upon my shoulders.
It sees nothing of worth.
The eyes are a gateway,
And they lead to a cave.
Damp and cold,
In my empty head.
Aged and worn,
And lonely,
In my blank and empty head.

Intellect is little more than tiny rocks.

Intellect is little more,
Than tiny rocks.
We collect them in our shoes,
We remove them when,
We find them unfit.
We pick and choose,
Our knowledge is groomed.
It is biased,
And it is ugly.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
We all fall into that trap,
But perhaps that is the point?

Panda eyed.

Punched out panda eyes,
Like planets with dark rings.
They show the signs of age,
And they show the time of day.
Bright sun makes me squint,
And I feel on edge.
Rest would be welcome,
But at no point exists.
Awake and weary,
These eyes are blurry.
Rain rides down my face.
A gentle splash,
Of salt water on skin,
And I’m home again.
Home in a loose sense,
Riddled with meaning,
And metaphor.
A home I abhor.
A home for torment,
And a home for regrets.
A home for my natural shape.
Panda eyes,
No surprise.
When I burn the candle,
At each end.
An effigy to you and me,
A dummy of my core.
Panda eyed,
And howling blind.
I want sleep once more.

room.

Dark grey light,
Spread thin,
Throughout this room.
A green so final,
It ceases at the threshold.
Limited time,
Jeers at me.
Its teeth are bare and gritted.
Empty spaces,
Seem lonely.
But clutter is not welcome.
Middle ground is hard to find.
The contrast is striking,
And infinite.
Negativity Is passed unto me.
A positive is lacking,
But hardly misplaced.

Enter firefly.

i think this is a bit rubbish, however...

Bright in the night.
Little light.
Flitter of flight.
Duck and dive,
Through soot black space.
Round dark doorways,
With enchanted pace.
Enter firefly,
Light my way.

Knowledge is a withered man.

So, enters a man,
Old and callus,
To withered to work,
But wise beyond words.
The man leaves,
Stench tails him,
Mould rises as his feet,
Leave the floor.
He is dust.
Wisdom is with you,
But only for so long,
Before it becomes old,
And used.
Second hand information,
Is infested.
Knowledge and death,
Ride hand in hand,
They are sand,
And pass through your fingers,
Fleeting, unobtainable, remote.

My life as a spec of sand.

Untold.
My life story.
But then,
Why would it be told?
Who am i?
I am nobody.
But then,
We are all somebody.
To someone,
Or something.
We are all,
Grains of sand,
On a beach.
Some in the sun,
Some in the dunes.
But we are all there.
All of sand,
For all of time.
Who are we?
We are the rocks,
Which make up the earth.
We are the dirt,
Beneath Gods nails.
We are his cultivation.
Some is swept up,
By wind,
And carried like a sail,
Over our heads.
They land on pastures green,
Or they land in the sea.
Change is common place,
But it doesn’t happen to me.

i am alone

I am alone.
Alone for all time.
Alone with my thoughts,
And my expectations.
I sit and I stay.
Stay for all time.
Stay with my thoughts,
And my expectations.
I am away.
Away from time.
Away with my ideas,
And infatuations.
I am riddled,
With the imprint,
Of crooked teeth,
From grinning clowns.
I alone,
Know the route,
Of the problem.
But I ignore it.
Ignorance is bliss.
Bliss is expected.
It is in my thoughts,
My ideas,
My infatuations.

Hiccups, monster, mole, queen, raisin.

A green grassy meadow,
Hiccups dirt and rocks.
Monster claws scratch,
Through the ground.
Raisin eyes gleam blind.
Queen mole has come,
To gaze at the stars.
But, daylight prevails,
And she returns to the underground,
Leaving a mountain in the wake.

ten

Turn back time,
Till you were ten,
Away and free,
And happier then.
No struggle,
No worry,
Just innocence,
And fun.
Not now my dear,
Not now I fear.

Leap onward,
Till now,
I am 24.
I have not a lot.
I don’t expect much more.
I have worry,
And struggle.
I care less and less.
I am lost at sea.
I digress.

If life is a roller coaster then what part am i?

If life is a roller coaster,
Then what part am i?
If the rails are wooden,
And crumbling with age,
Will I die quickly?
Or will I not cease,
Until the cart stops?
And does my soul ride,
In my body?
And get off,
As the next life gets in?
And do birds fly past,
And shit on me?
And does the sun beat down?
Am I by the sea?
Does the wind blow around?
And the rains drench my bar?
And what if I jump from this car?
Life has its ups and it downs.
On a ride it is reversed.
The down the fun part,
The up is boring.
The anticipation of a drop,
Is more invigorating.
How can life be like a roller coaster?
I think it is not.