Candlestick

Candlestick fire
fades like a pariah
candlestick fire
fades, like a pariah.

The pace of the world
was too much for it.
The pace of this world
Was too much,
for it.

Candlestick fire
fades like a pariah
candlestick fire
fades, like
a pariah.

Candlestick fire
fades like
A pariah.

The pace of
the world
was too
much
for
it.

Aliens To Earth

Aliens ride bicycles
When they're troubled
By this world.
Aliens ride bicycles to Earth.

Aliens take taxi cabs
When they're mixed up
With the world.
Aliens take taxi cabs to Earth.

Aliens ride motorcars
When they're muddled
By the world.
Aliens take motorcars to Earth.

Aliens take holidays
When they're stressed out
By the world.
Aliens take holidays to earth.

Aliens take photographs,
When they're lonely
In the world.
Aliens take photographs of Earth.

Aliens take time to cry
When they're grieving
in the world.
Aliens take time to cry on Earth.

Aliens take certain girls
As they're leaving
for the world.
Aliens take perfect girls from Earth.

Mirror Looking Back

Look at you,
You're no burden on my kiss.
You handed this to someone else
As you took to admire yourself.
Look at you.

Look at me,
I'm no timepiece on your wrist.
I'm turning old without all this.
I'm turning old without a twist.
Look at me.

Halloween

BOO!

One More Day Till Halloween

Two More Days Till Halloween

I asked The Devil for all i wanted.
I want a life I can be proud of, a life of importance to all,
and The Devil replied: It was mine.
I want a woman who will love me, from now until the fall,
and The Devil replied: In no time.
I want a life without worry, no sickness, nor finacial woe,
and The Devil replied: It is yours.
I want a place that protects me, a place no evil can go,
and The Devil replied: Of course.

Then The Devil smiled as he looked with eyes of flame, and cruel deeds playing around his lips and said:
But what are you prepared to offer?

Three More Days Till Halloween

The nightmare had finished with me, it spat me back into reality.
I looked around my room illuminated in half light, faint images appearing through the muted vision of the recently awakened. My violent reappearance into waking life had left me with a fevered sweat that crept across my brow like a millipede marching without purpose.
The hellish visions that plagued my night time world were more horrifying than a gallery of gory ghouls galloping across the graves of the recently deceased. More skin crawling than a trip to the Theatre Du Grand Guignol for a midnight show.
The Dream Demons had shown me a world that could be mine, a world of cold unfeeling, a universe oblivious to potential, a stage with no lighting where I performed alone to a crowd of shadows. A dead end job repeating itself until fade out, with no rewards, hours, days, weeks, years falling like a stack of blank paper indecipherable from each other on a carpet of white ash.
A life where the light of life and others pushed me to the comfort of the dark, afraid to reach for the sun for fear of being too small to even get close. An island life with no bridge of others to see the rest of the world around me. A life where the most comfortable thing was the least, accept the inevitable decay of the flesh and the mind and await the end in a decadant display of apathy to life, love and the rising sun. A life lived inside this imperfect skin, a life over without setting root, without trying,
But, It was only a dream.....

Four More Days Till Halloween

He stopped mid metap..
His world collapsed like a punctured lung, the pen fell from his rugged hand and struck the beige carpet below with a shushed explosion. He stared at the ink strewn page and felt vomit surging from the cell of his soul. In the gap between letters he had exposed the epiphany that had pushed aside his art. The room shrunk, the world in the window vanished, replaced with bland holes of scattered colour.
He was not a great writer.
The words hurt, like a cancer, long and with few external symptoms yet internal wounds that ate at his brain and questioned his future. It's truth hurt but was undeniable.
His vocabulary stunted like a dwarf reaching for the top of the beanstalk, his poetic prose as lustful as the walls of a Butcher's Shop. His characters listless, with motives of cardboard, a blunt reminder of his life and dreams devoid of creativity and verve.
His heart ceased. With this terrible news ricocheting around his skull he could hold them back no more and the Monsters from the bleak ink spewed forth into reality freed from a prison of stories and chains of punctuation.
Now they were permitted to explore the world of the banal. twist it's mundane plots unhindered by the restraints of one who accepted his failings and gave up

Five More Days Till Halloween

Church Bell Ring and Landlord Time.
Crescent Moon over Land Undefined.
Light extinguished, safe in bed.
Stray outside, wind up dead.
Rural life, village green.
Cricket pitch, evil unseen.
Urban sprawl, houses so neat.
Children fearful of tricks and treats.
Farmers crops, winters feed.
Reap in daylight or be damned to bleed.
Revel in numbers, street light safety.
In shadows of twilight run home hastily.
Visitors and locals heed my words.
Leave before midnight or be food for worms.
Crucifix held and holy water.
Provide no protection from nightly slaughter.
Pray for morn and illuminated heaven
To avoid the claws of Death's sweet Raven.

Sense Of Persistance

Just because you won't see me
Won't mean I don't see you.

Just because you don't hear me,
Don't mean I don't hear you.

And just cause you can't taste me now,
Don't mean I can't taste you.

Like, just because you can't smell me,
Won't mean I can't smell you.

And just because I can't touch you,
Don't mean you can't touch me.

And just because you won't see me
Won't mean I don't see you.

War Girl

She's a girl who drops grenades on my dreams,
And has me chase the memories
Once I wake.

She beckons me before she turns the corner,
And turns me to a mourner.
She's the girl.

Sunny

It's sunny all the time.
Staring into the pool
That our mill town looks over,
And we slap our suncream on.
Textiles couldn't contrive a picture
To describe the flat-capped men,
Kicking a ball down the street,
To the tune of The Macarana.
It's sunny all the time.
Staring into the pool
That our mill town looks over,
And we slap our girls around.

The Green Inferno

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Lying Dead In the Womb

My days fly by unsuccessfully.
An hour means nothing but sixty minutes of time.
I see naught but the vanishing sun and the mountains of black beyond.
And when the morning comes a calling I cry.
I can imagine a life so deliriously intense it burns it's memories into my brain,
But then the real rain pours down and extinguishes my flame.
Leaving me with socks that wont dry out and ordinary Tuesdays.
A life run by other's demands and my own dismay.
I can't network
Nor improve my net worth
The life I dream about can't be found in a bank account.
It can't be borrowed, bought, stolen or drawn.
Maybe it can't be found at all.
But I'm dreaming that I'm dreaming because, for now, it's all that I have got.

Soon Be Christmas

It'll soon be Christmas,
And I'll be desperate to smile.
But there will be no fucking smiling
from me this time.

It'll soon be Christmas,
And I am fucking dying to cry,
But there will be no fucking dying
of you in my mind.

Telescope Blues

I can spin words like planets all night,
If the world inside your mind would care to understand,
Or I can try to reason with you,
or more likely, I can't.

But there's a telescope
That can pick up stars
Nine billion light years from here.
So who am I to reason with anyone?

I'm staring through my skylight and watching the stars,
And I'll never see Venus,
nor understand Mars.

Maybe I can pass on some advice
you'll neither hear nor care about,
Or else, more likely, I'll try, but can't.

I woke up this morning,
And spun planets all night.

Intrusion

Press any button to cancel this screen saver,
And move like an aeroplane,
And carry me to another planet,
While we still have wings to move,
That aren't powered by instruction.

If You Want

Tell me we aren't dying before our eyes.
You know I'll make your flowers in your daydreams,
If you want.

Tell me I aren't fading
Before your eyes.

You know I'd make you flowers
In your daydreams,
If you want.

GOODBYE

It's funny how the flowers sway well in the wind.
Close the door,
and let the weather in,
I won't think about those flowers,
or let them in again.
We said goodbye,
or au revoir,
Or whatever it was,
of anything.

It's funny how the girls all came to you,
Close the door,
and let the weather win.
I won't think about those girls.
Or let the rainclouds in.
We say goodbye,
or au revoir,
Or whatever it was,
of anything.

Panama

My head hurts like cotton rabbits.
In the sea of misgiving my thoughts float up.
When it comes to being last I die hands clapping
Can you see my eyes in the dark?

By Candlelight

It' s over, It's not you it's me
The platitude was as plain as the Camenbert starter.
Like euthanasia, the words intended to ease suffering, but, like snow on a summer's day they didn't stick.
Our relationship had soured beyond repair in her eyes, a rift had arisen no raft could cross.
This was headline news to my now alert brain, I had believed we had reached that impossible nirvana, that ecstasy of love and understanding.
So, those words delivered across romantic candlelight caught me off guard.
I questioned her rationale, hoping the past bliss and dripping wax were enough to keep us together.
She pushed her chair away from the table, the metaphoric gap she spoke of now tangible as her features which first enraptured me faded in the dark.
That face now lost to my sight, slowly drifting to a place in my head where mention of her name can't recall.
My unbelieving resistance to her stubborn rigid decision proving futile to say the least.
She left as the main course cooled, my appetite for life, love and steak falling like a burnt out star.
I sat alone at a table for two avoiding the car crash stares of restaurant patrons gorged on pate and performance breakups.
I paid the check with cash and a tip of humiliation, receiving a receipt of compassion not worth the paper it wasn't printed on.
My every memory of you is stained a devastating blue, the days in, the night out, all now besmirched by your words and the sound of the door closing as you left.
I can't apologise for the things I don't know I did, if our time together meant nothing, if my words were but white noise.
I no longer feel anything of you inside me, I blew out the candle that led the way to picnics and sleeping close, and inside the cavern of this hopelessness I no longer care where you have gone.
Without bullet or blade you have killed me with the single thought running around my head.
That while I cry in the dark, your candle is lighting the way for someone else.

Stop Spinning

Stop spinning and telling me everything will be fine.
When it won't be fine.
Stop spinning and telling me the world's all nice,
If the world's not nice.
Stop spinning and telling me the day's alright,
When it's not all right.
Stop spinning and telling me we can repeat,
When we can't repeat.

Stop spinning and telling me everything all nice.
When it won't be nice.
Stop spinning and telling me the world's all fine,
If the world's not fine.
Stop spinning and telling me the day's all right,
When it's not alright.
Stop spinning and telling me we can't repeat,
When we can't repeat.

Daughter

Pour yourself a large one,
This may take some time.
The thoughts I've had all bottled up,
Were more than just the wine.

The night gave me cause to think -
The girl you call your daughter,
Can't see you as her father.

Another chaser finds its feet,
I think I've got that story beat -
The melancholy in my mind,
Was only steeped in kindness.

The night gave me cause to think.
The girl you call your daughter,
Can't see you as her saviour.

So pour yourself another,
For this may take some time.
The thoughts you've bottled up,
Are more than mine.

Every time you turn away, or blink
It denies your daughter,
The comfort to call you her father.

Not Tomorrow

People shape their footsteps,
To match the shadows of the others.
Like me, Like me, following you.
Echoes in the building,
Prayers are lost in stone,
And I walk home alone in the rain.
We know not why, or how.
It's not tomorrow - this is now.

People dance in circles,
To match the movements of their lovers.
Like him, like him, dancing with you.
Flowers in the graveyard,
Prayers are lost in stone,
And we sit there alone, in the rain.
She knows not why, or how.
It's not tomorrow - this is now.

Truth

Fortune favours the brave.
The cliched man said
But he had never suffered
He lived outside of his head.
He unlike me, could see past the wall
Of heartache and misery
Of blushes and the crush of the fall.
When the spotlight descends
And the questions are asked
I shrink like a violet
He erupts like a volcanic blast
I cannot defend me
From the wrath of his swagger
For in the dark of my confessional I know,
He's all that I'll never.

Smell The Roses

I was writing words,
As I came to them,
And then it came to him:

A man can have it all -
The mind,
The girls,
The charm,
The talent,
The looks to fit -
The wit.

The faith,
The money,
The wisdom
And the funny.

He can have the house,
The cars,
The view of the stars,
And a stake in the planet Mars.

And he can love,
While he feels pain -
See his roses in the rain.

And he can watch those flowers grow,
And have the time
To stand back,
And smell the petals as they go.

He's got Autumn, Winter, Summer, Spring,
He knows that they'll grow back again.

He can sing,
And he can bring,
The things
I'm not imagining.

He can take,
He can give,
He can live.

But a man can't find
The time he needs
To take life in.
For in the end,
The end gets him.

I was mapping thoughts,
And I came to them,
And then it came to him:

A man who has everything
Or nothing at all,
Should watch his flowers grow,
Then dream, before the petals fall.