making sense - communication

 if i had a time machine

i would glimpse at the unknown

forward into what comes after what is beautiful

10 years from now to the date 

on this very space and cry out

a jerk reflection of my contrary surprise

that not even the stale air has taken token note of it's duty to be recycled and given way to the new.

If, I had a time machine

for a second time, having learnt in strides

I would leapfrog to my childhood

venture forth with ample enthusiasm,

eager to correct what's defected and possibly save the world!

Failing that, possibly immediately too to adjust, accommodate and what else? 

Ah pray tell, to live freely looking up and outwards, caged deliberately

certain of my prize encased in silly pink lensed pride.

IF I HAD A TIME MACHINE

FOR A FINAL TIME, I WOULD PONDER

PROBLE, HESITATE AND MEDITATE

LOSING THE PLOT, DIVORCE THE DISCOURSE IN MY HEAD

THE ARCHITECT OF MY MIND WANTS ME DEAD

SLEEP ON THE ISSUE AND VIRTUE OF THIS CHANCED CONNONDRUM

AN OCEAN TO OBSERVE IN THIS REALM OF LIVING HISTORY NOW UNLOCKED

CONFRONT THE OUTCOME OF MY SHORTCOMINGS, THE CLOSED CALLS TOO

SLAP MY BAD KNEE, SUCK IN THE SWEETER AIR AND TURN THE HANDLE

FIRST TO THE END OF ALL THINGS SO AS TO CONFIRM

ALL THAT STARTS RUNS ITS LENGTH AND SO IMMEDIATELY BOLT

TO THE VERY START, JOIN AND BEHOLD THE MAKING OF THE STARS

My conscious is my time machine: bless

it clocks memories and projections unrivalled

fantasy and quirks a plenty both awake

aware and underneath, not bad for angel dust

once one pulls the pin. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

if my hands were a lighthouse,

a beacon of hope to those adrift

in transit on flow and yet - 

out of pace/ out of line/ out of time

desynched off the mainframe, therefore,

an anomaly oh malady

pray tell me doctor 

what be wrong with me

my eyes (are the wrong) wear the wrong lenses

my ears are so hairy ol' folk swear it is the stuff of legends

sticks for limps, I fear it be the pirate life for me!

Should be wind not take me a sneeze surely might,

soon to be bald out of fright

my skin is sore, my ego is shot, all hope is lost and drown at sea

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

anxious, my head is too tall

my back is crooked, it rolls sideways and refuses to spring up

my face is rusty, lumps and bumps at crossroads: do mind the potholes

my internal organs be cogs and gears out for service

no amount of shiny oil or tender care or dreamy rest

can repair this open chest

if my hands were a lighthouse I must confess

it could not be any good

of any help for those meant to see

for this holes I exchanged for eyes are the prize those obsessed contemplate in order to connect. 

 as the season change and the years drip down

sympathy dries, it too exhausted by tempting draught

of coming undone, to tear up and jerk off virtue

in thought alone, perhaps not quite all there

nerve wrecking to make that good from effort

devoted to intent and meant to be had at sunrise

in steady course, make no haste with a merry belly

fulfilled and in control, no space for sadness and unrest

abundant appears to be a dying breed

my hands betrays me

my lips conceal poorly

what my eyes perceived so far

as far as it could it caved in

carved in hell with bespoken truth

so-and-so anew the cycle repeats

the hunger persists for it cannot ever escape

I believe tragedy cannot be extinguished 

for the lessons are not truly ours to be taken apart

this flame a beacon for future generations to dismember

from a distance when solid history has taken root

and peace forcedly stricken a weightless state

or so I hope.

post-ecstacy clarity  is a knock-off

a fairytale meant to hypnotize the enemy

the ultimate act of mercy breaching the love lockdown

shatter chains of control, loose the soul, system overload:

streamline towards the good life before it defaults to going wrong

believe me, I seen it before, as heaven be wide (do you hear bells?)

and hell be inviting at every turn, like a lovers embrace recalls

the promise of sweet cake after heartbreak, disguising the mistakes

may the tooth come unstuck, a vice to linger and serenate to a ballad

contradict to physics, due time to journey further and afar from home

believe me, I seen it before, like a dog whose owner hasn't returned

drown at the lake, floating by the bay and that's as far as they cared to explain.

Life is fleeting despite bodily dance rituals, the hurt and needs a hunger

that lonesome souls seldom fulfill, bottled up suppressed like rage

gear to my ignition a flame that eats at my remote control

like a puppet set in motion, the script a bore (I should have known)

nostalgia is a stone chained at the ankles that trembles tantrum tears

sinking resentment that tilts at the back of the throat 

piling in, croak voice advocating change

and yet people do not change

not at the fundamentals

not at the core

not your hope

not me honestly

somehow we did not get through the tougher days

and on the better days I came to accept that's okay

the secret lays in hiding from the red mist

to obscure it's dark power

 if the eyes are the gatekeepers of the soul

they make for a sorry state of affairs

too transparent and tight lipped,

a treasure afloat that starve with reckless abandon

the heartbeat a raceless faceless laceless puppy

adorable at times but fundamentally an idiot

energetic, fueled by instinct alone and a stubborn beggar

pride cannot contest charity, it is a slow drip carved within

get out of my head I beg but rest assure the scars I mark myself.

the pot of gold is foolproof and I take issue

okay, maybe, you have taken the best of me

stripped of my dignity, disengaged and disenchanted

Life's script, tales, twists and spin-offs (a riddle)

my palms are peeling and somehow that makes me less lonely

sandbagging instead of developing better happier habits

feeding an hallow mood, picking crumps for a dream coma

feeling heavier despite good company for a change

 the sand clock stood no ground against the moon tide

a couch made of stone would have prevailed

the soul pull is remorseless, look at the carnage ahead

in a land where those willing do not fight for themselves

laboring away, slaves of a currency that poisons the land

they die but not to be confused with a sacrifice worth of prose

humanity greatest achievement is mercy, compassion and love

feeble suffocating weighted decisions that poison indisposed character 

the divine dice at birth came short and so bastards must act evil

I cannot believe it: I bite my tongue in anger and bleed

fathers past, some have it tough indeed, to throw the towel? be dammed

probable cause, just in the eye of faith behold and truth be told

I grow impatient of stomping the ground, powerless to connect

the blessed water cannot contain the taint of self-doubt

the poisonous chant is corrupted, the tune stuck on repeat

no guilty man ever confessed to a crime saved the objection being he is sick

egotistic and vain, toxic in both pulse and décor towards life (including his own)

why must gore and horror entice the mind, some fear the depths whilst others obsess

a rather bad romance, an enticing masquerade telling tall tales of wants and sacrifice (PS: everyone dies in the end for dramatic effect)

a lessons learnt in the hallways of visions, flashes and bloodbaths of what had to be (hostile hospitality)

must we do as we are shown? to decay in disarray as the gods watch over us in masturbatory curiosity

to ever rebel child a whip to which the vessel of pain can transmutation doubt into bought respect

to conceal sentiment trapped in a grin that cages the understanding that the scar is a viper,

it's sting an ache that vodka cannot quell, no reversal to downplay my misguided direction 

to take blood binds for granted in a fabricated bed story, such a shame to contemplate your tombstone   

we both now share bed sores in the undertow as the ocean past pursues forward without purpose

"Where to now? What happened to my fucking purpose? I am just a stone sinking Broken and numb Where to now? The way you made me, made me worthless Truth is in the end we all end up alone"

 

I chew my hand solely because cannibalism would get me locked up (and that ain't cool)

 calluses can be polished off; crush these hands Lord

this hunger hurts me to the core and I am torn

a cry for help can be tone deaf, mute point is truly impolite

Summoning decency supported by grace, forsaken at the darkest hour

A panel dislodged, a button pressed, a rapture's message lost at source

Hearsay, near miss, afterthought to pen to lips to ears

Rivers met waterfall tinkered down for fool's gold

put this unease to bed doll, I have so much to prove.

Sway, as may the sea breeze be salty so be tears, show us mercy

and this parallels diffuse how simple minded, clumsy even

humans (are) so prone to acts of reification

waving accusatory fingers that exuberated infected nerves

tapped however they may be by stress; by the media and press

ring all bell, shout fire and please DO call for help: a lie is buried just ahead.

If a scruffy ape tucks tail in tow, college sweetheart, school dropout, quick shut-eye

boredom bleeds stale joints, the ache echo to branches ghastly hallows on lonely nights

the catch of words strangled by attitude

can too lose focus, focus can too be lost, can too lost be out of focus?

Intimidation arrived late.

Cracked fingers disrupt motivation,

running low on fumes, tension now dispersed and the drugs are a mistake

The new idols are unworthy of fellowship

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do my agenda abide my reasoning to a T pretty please.

what a conundrum! to rein in immediate gain

Frothing nonstop, shaking and dizzy

villains, new age crooks

evolution has truly taken a darker turn.

gnawing fingertips preserved on ice,

cut the pulse, temper your enthusiasm

pepper the wound and take a bite

A cataclysm erupts as we deceive

the watchtower (ablaze) burns nicely, light vigil

statuary value, torches raised high

elongated arms, spirits and tension catapulted

sieged momentum, sanitary distraction

precaution - homemade remedy, Grandma's recipe knows best

the lump in my throat drops

the flies in my stomach get lit

this disease is everything, everlasting and grade A bullshit

feast your eyes on a fire alpaca as the hallucinations takeover

the slumber itches, forceful lingering on the celling of my mouth

a yawn held is a prayer felt

the migraine to successfully dispel as results swallow dreams

the Gods tempt me, they must be testing me

for the scourge of the heavens has put in my life's chapter

a woman of a different faith in the covenant of my embarrassment

as her cheer and childlike laugh enlarges the room I shrink

we have come full circle and my neck is still stiff due to the heartstrings

restricting my movement, averting my eyes to minimize the damage

the bitter irony of wanting to fight a lost battle anew, a calling for war.

 I chew my hand solely because cannibalism would get me locked up (and that ain't cool)

lover, kind one I trusted you

I wish I could see wishing for THAT love was so foolish of me

combat this anxiety, man down

an outdated journey, joyless ride baby

a rusty roller-coaster, sentient but on a low dangle,

fruit (putrid and vinegary)

Not a sliver of health, cluster burning tyre

Dim be dammed hang her, choke the lights please

Common sense has walked out, chasing war

therefore the dark arts cannot resurrect

this limp spirit on life support, my lips scarcely run dry

another friendship has run its due course

what if this drawn out breath

be my last? should I hold it for longer

savour the chief rule discounted from 10 downwards

10 right? no, wait left, 9 - 8 - 7..?

my life sprints to an open collective grave

decant the nectar, I do not want to hear it

so to best gel and burn amongst brethren

murky, fused bone and ash

feast to the bug, festival to the child

a numerical statistic in regards to however else

gentile, simple, structurally sound

second best, a pawn -recalibrated- copy pasted on the go

green-eyed monster, you desperate soul

abide my cries, release the door

remnant of ghastly events, no need for feedback

a channel conductor of crawlers

best left unsuspected, undisclosed.