10-to-7

Keep your petty sarcasm to yourself
You 10-to-7 money-cum-ass lickers,
All your acts are as hollow as you are,

Which side of paradise are you going to buy with your money?
A castle on a mountain or a penthouse by the seaside,
Your shadows reek of dishonesty,
Your games mirror your shallowness,
As you stoop low to feed your pointless existence,

My mind wonders as it witnesses your joy in the false triumph,
That you try to conceive more than children,
Looking up and down at each other when you should look in the eye,
And your deception is so obvious
That it almost makes me smile inside
and instills sheer disgust,

And such lowly your ideas of prying are
That I feel like puking on the computer,
You and your groups and the groupies within them,
(Who the FUCK are you to test me?)
All your dreams and desires feed on others,
And you deserve the company of each other and none else,

So that you can preach, pry, deceive and lie,
Live your life in and for the 10 to 7,
And then you die.

( I hope you go to heaven)

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Why I Write

Every one has someone to go to
A face to laugh with, a shoulder to cry
I couldn’t get someone for myself
So I relish the company of mine.
Often I come back to my room,
And I break down into a cry
( No idea why)
But I do, I sit bent, and I sob;

Sometimes I buy the company of cheap whiskey or wine
But even the magic of these euphoric elixirs
Fails to derive a moment divine,

So then I sit and look at the nature outside
That dwells in harmony
And whilst I admire their peaceful beauty
The sob muffles and my eyes slowly dry,
Then I turn towards the robots
That engage me in myriad videos and songs,
And as rock and metal minimize the seclusion
My mind begets confusion;

the moon appears and disappears from behind the momentary veil of fleeting clouds,
As enters internal unease,
The existence of which, threatens me with mental disease,
And sometimes it prompts me to die,
But my misfortunate existence infuses the realisation
That lonely though, I am alive
And as the night unwinds
I pick up a pen and a paper,
And begin to write.
( Now even you know why)

 

 

 

The Man Who Knew Too Much

The dumb slept first
for he had nothing to speak,
The one who never saw
had no need to, for he was always asleep,
The man who could not hear
was haunted by nightmares filled with vicious screams,
The one who knew nothing
always relished sweet dreams,
While the man who knew too much
probably slept the least.

In life

The dumb possessed no worries
he never kneeled to pray,
The man with blind eyes
almost always had his way,
The man who was deaf
managed a desolate corner to stay,
The one who knew nothing
never bothered to succeed,
And the man who knew too much
lived a life diseased.

Before Death

The dumb died in silence
The blind did not mind,
The deaf was slightly troubled
The ignorant’s death was kind,
But the man who knew too much;
Well he was never alive.

 

A Million Dawns

You held my hand
And you shook it, like it belonged to you,
Then I saw you turn away and walk,
You said out loud the words
So loud that the stars must have heard them
But you failed to talk;

You never turned back once like in the cinemas,
And promises there were none
So you did not keep,
Through the fog into the depths
You could have blinked once
Before you took the final leap;

For who knows a negative
from the reel of your memory
Could have flashed a sign to stop,
Maybe you would have been here
And the sun would have risen every morning
In lieu of a million dying dawns.

Love, Into the Night

Come now my love

In the thick of the night,

The stars are sleeping and the moon is on leave

Look the clouds have all gathered about

like a crowd of old, unwise, dead men with long beards,

and mouth dripping white foam;

 

Leave him, and come to me my love

Now, wrapped in the black shroud of this mute night,

That man is dead now,

so come to me, I am still alive.

 

Come now, don’t be shy my love

In this naked night,

There are no living awake

and the knife in your hand

has all the ghosts grow shy,

So leave him and come to me

I am still breathing, still alive.

 

Come my love,

Guided by this blind night,

Come, come with your ruby knife,

and sit atop me like Gabrielle; and writhe

Pierce me as I pierce you

If only for moments few,

let us moan and groan;

 

And the,n you can thrust your knife

Into my heart and leave into the night,

Stab me with your love,

In this vicious night,

Stab me my love and leave me to die

As you carry on, into the thick of the night.

 

 

 

Soul Song

Take my words and their rhythm 
The emotion in them and the meaning hidden ,
Take my thoughts and my time
All my goodness, all my crimes.

If it pleases so
Peel my skin, gouge out my eyes 
Take my blood and take my bones
My double helix DNA 
and my XY chromosomes.

If they do not turn out to be enough 
Take my puckered heart 
and my heaving lungs,
Take my poisoned kidneys
and the liver burnt
If it pleases you, then please do so.

But it is my soul that you cannot ask for
And it is my soul that I shall not give,
For rest of all is yours for the taking
But my soul is not for me to give.