Hold me pensively, like a secret between God and soul.

Practice me daily like a language that only you and nature know.

Keep me close like a childhood scar that you have accepted and now cherish.

Never let me go like the memory of each first time.

Clench me tight like hope in a protesters fist.

Clutch me in your grip like arthritis taking hold of an old man’s tired joints.

Transfix me in your forever like we both have the naivety to believe in an eternity.

Fasten me to your mind like a prayer or an affirmation.

You and I know.

Yes, Because you and I know that you’re the only one who knows the words to my song and who’s willing to sing every precious lyric.          

Trail Weary

You’re still travelling through the travails of my brain flaps,

trying to craft new footprints to my heart.

You have your love mapped out perfectly,

looking for marks and X’s that will reveal a dream.

I told you not to waste trust on me and no tears will revive a drought.

You’re following an empty trail through my mind – Its a cardboard shanty town,

its inhabitants live in voice boxes,

thoughts waiting to become words,

waiting to be communicated.

In the closing credits -(The are no edits)

This paradigm is past its prime
An obsolete design wrongfully allowed to outlast its time
As things get deeper, they become harder to ascertain
The truth becomes white washed like withered plant life beneath the acid rain

Scars keep skin stitched together
Fighting to loosen this noose like neck tie that keeps me tethered
Doubt and disbelief are thieves that rob you of your dreams
Procrastination eludes you into thinking that trying isn’t as easy as it seems

Spine sticks out like the springs of an old tired mattress
If nothing really matters, then mother nature has to be the greatest actress
As days go by, I find love as a skill that gets harder to practice
We’re all audacious enough to believe that we’ll wake up to still find this planet crookedly spinning on its axis

Living in praise of a pantheon of ghosts
The idea of being human being written as hope in every philosophers journals and scattered notes
And every man declares ‘I Am’, while not being able to see how it contradicts the universe as a careless boast
We still wonder why out of all emotional abstraction, hate appears the most?

Gathering Feathers (23 September 2013)

“A person in society is the sum of his labels. Take that away and what do you get?”

“We all whore something out at the end of the day.”

“Well done. It’s getting harder to tell apart the person who you pretend to be and the person you actually are .”

“We’ll make homes out of the giants we’ve slain.”

“Sometimes but not in most cases, freedom is a simple matter of choice, especially if you’re not physically oppressed. All I know is, I walked and did not crumble after my first step. I mean they seemed to believe that I would and they some how convinced each other and me but I took that first step and did not fall under the weight of gravity. By oppression, they were taught to oppress. I realized this and walked away before it was too late. Thank God, I walked before it was too late.”

“Did anyone else know that its International Talk Like A Pirate Day today? And Im not talking about talk like a Pirates supporter after another derby loss.”

“I spend so much time, wishing I could revisit that place and time. Its like an island coasting on a special fragment of my memory.”

“My wings don’t flap right hence why I’ve been flying around in circles. I hope you’re not vain enough to think its because of you.”

“I remember thinking that my boss gesticulates so much when he speaks that he should just cut the middle man out and learn sign language.”

“Everyone’s too busy playing GTA V to realize that the guy who invented Super Mario is dead.”

“Holding on to something only contradicts our being so fly free”

“Its all in my head…”

“Yeah, its all in my head but does that make it less real?”

“Don’t make a cage out of your own mind”

“I give up.”

“Mistaking venus flytraps for roses and lilacs.”

Gathering Feathers (16 September 2013)

“Its a Cardboard shanty town, its inhabitants dwell in voice boxes.”

“Wait no, I think the song should go – my mind is a cardboard shanty town, its inhabitants – words dwell in my voice box.”

“Deep breaths – keep going.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah – blame the world for your shitty disposition. Many have smiled through worse. You’re just weak.”

“A different type of homelessness”

“Don’t you hate dreams where you’re just doing mundane activities like watching T.V? It’s not enough that my waking life ultimately revolves around the mundane but now my dreams rob me of freedom too. Imagine dreaming about studying or working at your dead end job. That’s enough to drive a man postal.”

“Im paranoid, I have to look over my shoulder, have to go over my blind spot, cant tell who’s pretending and who’s not?”

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t understand, its not in your depth – bigot.”

“Then you found yourself simulating humanity.”

“Poor imitation of a human being. The Japanese are developing robots more authentically human than you.”

“I like to dial manually when I call you so I can feel my heart dance to the key tones of your numbers – is that weird?”

“How did you become such an amazing imposter. I’ve tried but there’s something in the back of my head that keeps telling me that I’m lying, I don’t need to be here and I don’t need to be liked. How do you do it, it must be some evolutionary mechanism that skipped me.”

“Too busy looking for magic beans and silver bullets to put your head down and get some hard work done.”

“You slip, you fall, you get it up. No matter how much it hurts, you get up. Its just pain, a little discomfort – do you know how much pain your mother had to endure to get you into this world? One day does not exist, its just a fools comfort, you may say soon but for those who work, eventually is our declaration. Don’t let them break you, do you know how close to home you were the last time you gave up. Breathe.”

This Body Song

The speakers displace sound reluctantly ,

Notes sputter out awkwardly to play our song

There’s an argument inside between all sense and reason

My half stepping is a result of a cluttered mind

So can you fit between the crawl spaces of the over-flooded and cramped chambers of my brain

You can cushion yourself between the hypothalamus and cerebral cortex

Because I already keep you between each 10 second thought

Which means I would have thought of you over 50 times before I finished this sentence

Each brain cell and nerve firing at attention to you

Each brain flap dedicated to our love

My heart stands sovereign over every other organ

but before you, it no longer could beat to joy

It wasn’t in its over worn lexicon

It only ever smiled when the sun sunk into my skin

And you were a sonnet carved out of sunlight

Kissing life into my chest till my heart learnt to speak your language fluently

Arteries rushing blood to each vessel leaving me red faced and naked

leaving the epidermis of my skin hot and waiting for your touch

Micro hairs standing up in salute

Soaked in sweat but you swim through till not even my skin can hide me

Along with you, I swallow a gust of wind which is now rushing through my lungs

There are little Bronchi air sacks filled with your perfume,

crawling down the vents of my trachea and I breathe you deep

dispersing you to each cell of my body

Air waves vibrating the ossicles of my ears

I can hear our song

Each nerve ending twitches to its beat

There is no dissension in its harmony

The universe strains its vocal cords for us

So the least we can do is dance.

Water marks

Plastic plant life ,
Signals no longer being sent on account of too tired neuro-molecular dendrites
You only feel human when you talk to a computer screen
To own and be owned – the modern consumer dream
Trying so hard to be important, to be weighed and compared
Ready to meet tomorrow? Beware, you’re unprepared
Sun starved, paper skin rejoices in the light
Blue veins become lines, margined between the scars
Human life is a satire to existence
A vain universe invented us to observe it
Too bad it made us in its own image, now we invent to be observed
Earth life marches along to the stars
Too much time spent in the night, makes it harder to discern the light from the dark
The machine is intoxicated on its own oil,
Finally coming face to face with its own thought
Gears spinning like propellers , it says –

Listen, I left water marks from the tears I’ve puddled and pooled
, dripping and seeping through the wool you’ve pulled over my eyes,
And when I die you can keep the stained furniture
After I’ve loosened up this noose like neck tie, keeping me afloat
I’ll hang myself by the 6th string of my guitar and vibrate to the note of E-ternity through its fretboard as I pendulum as part of the music and mechanism that moves the hands of time
The mechanism that some how keeps all alive
I need to die to prove that I once was alive
That I was once more than a drunk machine spitting out feathers.
Maybe I said something that resonated with you
and reminded you that you were more than a drunk machine spitting out feathers