Bound by laws we pontificate.
Scientists day by day try to figure them out.
Hypothesis and theory abounds, but, no answer.
Religion tries to find the right ones yet,
division leads to their questioning.
They do not have it right; no answer.
Everyday people usually wander
aimlessly, bound by the rules but unfussed.
But each emerald pasture,
or delicate, virgin tundric snowfield.
Each rolling ocean, crashing percussive
against time long, always strong cliffs;
They know the answer.
The cosmos has myriad rules binding
her processes. Like clockwork they work
regular, precise, balanced.
If enough scientists and mathematicians
could put their dogmas aside
and word hard, they would see.
All are one.
There is but one overriding rule.
LOVE=Everything.
Love is the answer to all your questions.
There is nothing sweeter, greater or more powerful.
Love=Everything.
Love can hit you faster than the speed of light.
It can make you leap as though gravity does not exist.
It can overbear your natural instincts.
Love is the most powerful force in the universe.
So let’s use it.
I love you.
Friday, 6 July 2012
Just a Ghost
You’re just a ghost.
A faded, sepiatone outline
of what was, and now isn’t.
You’re just a chill down a spine.
A prickled hair.
A soft, hollow reminder of what used to be.
You’re just a ghost.
Swimming in the grim ether
you try to find your friends.
But all you find are artifacts
of a life you used to know.
You’re just a ghost.
Phasing phantasmal
through walls that never were
still looking for your friends.
They’re not like you.
They don’t know that they’re already dead.
They don’t know, they’re just ghosts.
Like notes of a gentle ballad
carried on a cradling ocean breeze
your voice is but a distant melody.
Faint, yet haunting.
And you wonder, in your spectral haze,
“Do they still remember me?”
After all, you’re just a ghost.
A faded, sepiatone outline
of what was, and now isn’t.
You’re just a chill down a spine.
A prickled hair.
A soft, hollow reminder of what used to be.
You’re just a ghost.
Swimming in the grim ether
you try to find your friends.
But all you find are artifacts
of a life you used to know.
You’re just a ghost.
Phasing phantasmal
through walls that never were
still looking for your friends.
They’re not like you.
They don’t know that they’re already dead.
They don’t know, they’re just ghosts.
Like notes of a gentle ballad
carried on a cradling ocean breeze
your voice is but a distant melody.
Faint, yet haunting.
And you wonder, in your spectral haze,
“Do they still remember me?”
After all, you’re just a ghost.
Loneliness Sat
Loneliness sat bathing
in a pool of his own bitter tears.
Surrounded by abandoned jetsam;
the pieces of his own heart.
They were broken, flaked
and caked in dirt and misery.
His hollow eyes were disguised
by a crystalline film of misery.
They sparkled like a diamond ring
on a dead man.
He tried to speak,
but so long had he been without conversation
he could only grunt, and nod wistfully.
Oh that the icy blue necrosis lips
could once again feel the touch
of another pair. Plump, pink
and flushed with life.
in a pool of his own bitter tears.
Surrounded by abandoned jetsam;
the pieces of his own heart.
They were broken, flaked
and caked in dirt and misery.
His hollow eyes were disguised
by a crystalline film of misery.
They sparkled like a diamond ring
on a dead man.
He tried to speak,
but so long had he been without conversation
he could only grunt, and nod wistfully.
Oh that the icy blue necrosis lips
could once again feel the touch
of another pair. Plump, pink
and flushed with life.
Oh that his body, stricken with mortis
could embrace its revivification
via the electric touch of life
and love’s sweet, delicate hand.
But no. Loneliness sat.
Bathing in his own tears.
could embrace its revivification
via the electric touch of life
and love’s sweet, delicate hand.
But no. Loneliness sat.
Bathing in his own tears.
Starlit Path
Inconsequential crystal flowers shattered at the touch
and a dust cloud formed in spectral tonalities;
Brownian motion, flitting, fleeting.
Gazing, stepping in the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
Vast planets joined in matrimony, wed by ethereal rings
surrounded by icy, rocky crowds; their spectators.
A hole erupted in celebration, in unity and singularity
All were drawn into his magnetic abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
The tears of Shiva collided with sorry astral spirits
whose decay met with the wishful kiss of God
and the particles conjoined anew to form a cheeky smile.
The cradle of heaven’s creation is an abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
Green leaves in the eyes of man were stronger than the cosmos.
Guiding his hand to sin and misery unheard of, unseen, unspoken.
Oh how he forgets that once suckled upon the teat of her,
his mother. From the womb of the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
And thence were ideas lost and gone, with minds but a lingering memory
of the superconsciousness that exists in unity.
Everything is naught, and naught everything.
For all is but the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
and a dust cloud formed in spectral tonalities;
Brownian motion, flitting, fleeting.
Gazing, stepping in the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
Vast planets joined in matrimony, wed by ethereal rings
surrounded by icy, rocky crowds; their spectators.
A hole erupted in celebration, in unity and singularity
All were drawn into his magnetic abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
The tears of Shiva collided with sorry astral spirits
whose decay met with the wishful kiss of God
and the particles conjoined anew to form a cheeky smile.
The cradle of heaven’s creation is an abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
Green leaves in the eyes of man were stronger than the cosmos.
Guiding his hand to sin and misery unheard of, unseen, unspoken.
Oh how he forgets that once suckled upon the teat of her,
his mother. From the womb of the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
And thence were ideas lost and gone, with minds but a lingering memory
of the superconsciousness that exists in unity.
Everything is naught, and naught everything.
For all is but the abyss
on a starlit path to nowhere.
Obvious Enough?
Two jewels twinkle in the window.
Their visage a mirage, a thing of beauty
with, I’m sure, great tits
and an awesome booty!
A slender, toned and supple vessel
stood a Goddess; Aphrodite, Venus
and I can tell you this for free
I’d like for her to touch my penis!
But her soul the most pure factor
of her being - makes my heart thunderous.
And I would shake that soul to shit
if there were bedsprings lying under us!
Take from these words what you will
their message is quite apparent.
You looks can set my dick a-twitch
and your eyes make me transparent.
But most of all you’re admirable.
A word I seldom use.
So here’s hoping I stay strong.
For I have a lot to lose.
Their visage a mirage, a thing of beauty
with, I’m sure, great tits
and an awesome booty!
A slender, toned and supple vessel
stood a Goddess; Aphrodite, Venus
and I can tell you this for free
I’d like for her to touch my penis!
But her soul the most pure factor
of her being - makes my heart thunderous.
And I would shake that soul to shit
if there were bedsprings lying under us!
Take from these words what you will
their message is quite apparent.
You looks can set my dick a-twitch
and your eyes make me transparent.
But most of all you’re admirable.
A word I seldom use.
So here’s hoping I stay strong.
For I have a lot to lose.
My Own Way Home
Am I making my own way home?
Are there signs.
No
No earth.
google
Or ordnance
survey.
Am I making my own way home?
Shanks’
Pony?
My
own
two
feet?
No
car,
No
train,
No
hansom cab?
Am I making my own way home?
On my own?
No sidekick? No companion?
No Watsons to my Holmes?
No Friday to my Crusoe?
No token blonde?
Am I making my own way home?
Define home.
My hat
Is laid in a different place to
My heart.
How will I find what I don’t know?
Am I making my own way home?
Your Eyes
Pearly White
With jewelled centre
Through which
Rays of light can enter.
They say
A window to the soul.
I say a cliché, bored and old.
An eye serves but one vital purpose
Ignored by poets rumbling murmurs.
It sees.
You deduce the rest.
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