Whisper carefully

I’ll try to whisper this carefully
As I cry
About the lies

The world is drowning in sorrow
And she says she is fine
Waking up
Putting on her neat little dress
She knows nothing
Of the mess
She pays her tithe
In her smiles
Visiting the holy ghost
And the father who she loves most

The world is drowning in lies
And she says it is fine
Keeping the truth
In her bosom
Only to let people
Unlace the doors
On Sunday mornings
When the bells chime
There can’t be any other place or time

I try to whisper carefully
The cry
That are my lies
When will I give up
This idealism
That I dress up
As something that people can’t see
When I talk of it as my invisible friend
Next to me

I am drowning in the world of sorrow
Sitting on the fence of concentration
Knowing the hell of tomorrow
Receiving my eucharism
And my salvation
Either I work and lead the ladies
To the gas
Or I die in my life of lies
as the smell of corpses pass

I find myself
In love with her
Who undresses
For any ignorance for sure
Can’t I tear apart
My soul?
What kind of art
Is this ignorance?

I got me

Calm down here
You seem to be clear
Like a soldier
Whose lost the hold on her
Take the cards
Lose your grip folder
Let the shards
Play life like a mess on the floor
Lay down your head now
lay your lips down
to the floor
kiss gravity
for the heavenly curse
that we are in between
the mess no one can see
in between the seas of fire and ice
where Moses, the money goat, leads us through
with a snake in his hand biting him to death
for me and you
to drown as the Egyptian Jews

calm down her
sensing senses lost
sensing fences tearing us in half
the one we crossed in birth
soul depart
wool sheered aloof
like absent minded dreadlocks
dragging dust mites
letting the bites
letting the bites

who would keep me here
where it has got to stop
waking any moment
to a drowsy sleep of pain
a maroon shadow
spreading fingers of smoke
up into my head
who would keep me here
where it has got to stop
this urge of nothingness
urge of something less
then what become a mess
of me
and my soul
of the sea
of my whole
bending knees
to prayers to the ground

why would god keep me
where it has got to start
with smiles and light
where I in myself
am running in circles
of my self
myself of selfishness
is my helplessness
where god keeps me

well at least
I still got me
To keep warm
Well is not deep
Enough to keep me thirsty
Well I still got me
To company
Even though two’s what is
And me is one to few
Well I still got me
To believe in
Even if that is that nothing
But an empty body
When my soul is haughty
Doubt in the gaudy of me
Well I still got me
To be
I still got me
To be a lie
I still got me
To be a sigh to me
I still got me
To be

Cariing to write

Do you know that my fingers
Would be feathers tipped with ink
If I was a poet?

But my mind lies to myself
In ways that I can’t keep up
With the failures of lines and words
Like these

Do you know that ink
Fades anyway with the paper it stains
That then, only if my name was
Grooved in corroding stone
Perhaps I could make my words
last a few years longer
but even with the great classics
and the controversial 20s
words never burn a birth
of phoenix
but in someone else

no one’s words remain
but in the inspirations of someone else
because every stains meaning
only breathes as ghosts
in the hollows
of the owner’s grave

living now or living at all
makes me dig my own grave
with each thought
that meanings even start
hiding themselves to my own soul
that purpose starts fading into grey
doves fluttering in and out
that it only exists as the beauty
for moments when they hover above my head
when God proclaims
“this is my son”
what will I take to Hell
confused and lost like Ovid
tempting to forget why
I die to fight for my words
Someday the “so”, “that” and “and”
Will have more meaning
Then the words after
For continueing
May be the only sense
In all of this

Individuality

I am walking with passing days
Like a million shadows come to stay
I am walking with my passing ways
Having grown less life than decay

My fingernails are scratching at wounds
That I keep breathing and treating with salt
Because of my own stirring of the dust
When I try to run from my own trailing gust

Take my life away
If I am deserving
Then also take my earth
Where I have stepped
I planted choking weeds of indignation

The gravestones around mine
Play pride and believe to be in rest
Next to each other
As we all sleep lifeless
As if that is silence and comfort
To not be able to stir my bones
And scratch the weeds out of my ribcage

That doesn’t even make life easier
To know that I can chose not to stamp myself with death’s seeds
That I could not hide under cover’s with her
That I could not drink bottles empty of life
But full of sticky unconsciousness
Or maybe full of unconscience
Because either way I am deciding
Always a life for someone
and a life against someone
while everyone else is playing hangman
haphazardly for some man
or their own man

Then of course
We all our hiding behind window blinds
And only stripes of light and shade
Pass onto our dead skins
My thoughts wonder that
Really then maybe right and wrong
Are just the black and white on a zebra
Racing into the lion’s jaws
Asking me that I can only submit to his devouring grace
That death comes either away
And choice is just the skin on my soul

Then again skinning my own hide
To pay for the colours I decide
And the black stripes I wear
Would seem a bit cold for me in this world
And my soul could not be contained to the privacy
Of my individuality