Bread Protection

Dancing Memories

As I stand on this mystery plinth
All talk of heroes hailing me
I dumbly observe the dancing memories,
That fall as though confetti,
Flickering in the fleeting breeze
That comforts me.

Here's the day you leaned on me,
Brushing past my face,
There's the night we sighed relief,
Dangling above me.

And those are the daydreams
We thought would last forever
That we conspired to kill.

Like confetti confessing our sins,
They fall to my feet,
These dancing memories I keep.

Three

Ignorance doesn't kill, it can't, really, why would it want to?
Beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder, it's all a trick of the light, or lack thereof.
The meek will not inherit the Earth, they will be lucky to get a room at the Inn.
Time and Tide may wait for no man, but that is only because they have no knowledge of his self importance.
The words, the words, the meaning, the spaces where thoughts go.
The Tumbleweed prose, that Tumbleweed pose, all pseudo-intellectual woes, the result of too much free time and a refusal to say no.
Well I can ponder and plunder the years worth of blunder,
But I don't think I can, I don't think I will.
For In Two More Entries
Chainz gets to Kill

Chance

Let's be clear,
These are murky days
And we have our ways
of dealing with this
And dealing with that.
You can tune a radio
To a frequency you can't hear
If it makes you happy,
Or if not that, less sad.
Or you can attain writing
From a source of heartbreak
You were oblivious to before.
So, let's try that...

I'd rather be a man
born on the day
Despair came in
Till, later on, we meet.

I'd rather be that man,
And give my heart a chance.
A chance much more than this.

Until The Moon Leaks Orange

The clocks can move their weary hands to midnight,
The silent tears can trickle down her face
The night can fall then stumble from its daydream
Her only love can flicker out of trace.
But not until the moon leaks orange and leaves,
Will Tumbleweed Memories bleed.

The rocks can all erode and turn to ocean,
The seafarers can crash upon the shore,
The day can break then crack as if a mirror,
Reflected in the bosom of before.
But not until the moon leaks orange and bleeds,
Will Tumbleweed Memories leave.

Four

On a mainland Island stranded from my peers,
Neglecting not perfecting my wasted years.
Would I,
Should I,
Want to steal it back.
Could I,
Should I,
Hate my neighbours path.
A year worth of tears on an eternal bad road,
an exit, every entrance but never will I go.
Forever the words spill out, your opinion unblemished.
In three more inspirations the Memories are finished.

Five

The of the The
Nothing but the first, nowhere like before
In Four more blog entries
Tumbleweed will be no more

My Brakes

I'm driving from a nightmare,
Yet stalling.
She was my brakes
When I was falling.

April Fool, December

I breathe when May tells me to,
And recoil with January moons -
I stir with February, and June
And August never comes too soon.
September goes like thunder,
And July just leaves you behind.
Walking in line to March
And longing for October
While sleeping in November.
You are my April Fool, December.

Yellow For You

True dandelions count
The numbers adding
Up to you.
Through slumbers,
The bluebells are
Yellow for you.

Three Line Love Song

The taxi said to the tarmac:
"Who's aware of where they were?"
Then the car crashed.