Scary Time of Day

You'll mock me for crying when the hour comes near
I'll shock you by wailing like a house full of fear
My friends will be jeering like fools on a boat
Random people i don't know will laugh in so high a note
But the one thing that scares me more than anything, above all
Is having no one to call to when the dark comes to call.

Leaf Litter

Trees left leaves all over the floor
It's no longer summer, it's autumn once more.
Good.

Halloween left Scars

It's that god damned time of year again
When pumpkins makes avenues, their grins making lanes
Toy skeletons and inflatble spooks hang loosely like naked flames
The dark peeks early, the sun hides behind shadows
My heart beats slowly as I look out from the gallows
No treats for me, more tricks from her
Pint size monsters crave for more
Sickly, oozing sweetness stole out from your door
I once was the candle burning light all around
I now am the darkness with no heart to be found.

Whilst The Iron's Hot

I left you this
You left with that
I always hoped a wish
Would never fall so flat
I never imagined darkness spiralling from the sky
I never ceased to pretend I didn't know how it felt to die
So now so many years have vanished
And we have both moved on
How is it that I have never managed
To turn those memories off?

The Train

Maybe I should have moved
When that tear came down your cheek
And you smiled as if to attempt to deny its existence.
And maybe when your rose got wet
I'd have given everything
To soothe you with a handkerchief.
But I didn't.
And the train pulled out.

The Rains

I'm looking at your photo now
I've got the rains
I'm drinking, and I'm drinking how
I've got the rains.
I'm burning all your pretty clothes
I've got the rains
I'm taking texts out of my phone
I've got the rains
I'm sleeping through these sunny days
I've got the rains
I'm searching for the ways and whys...
There are no whys, there are no ways,
I've got the rains.

Oh, Well

Lazy go the days
Sun creeping
Over my view
And the weary
Clouds too.
Waves like mountains
Crashing slowly
And breaking
Moving like daydreams
Under a spell
With clocks spinning
At the speed of light
Using batteries
Built from
Hand grenades
And dynamite.
Oh, well.

Menolades

Fog hangs on you
A dress designed for a ghost
With cobwebs for tassels
And strings made of menolades.

Mist falls from you
A tear consigned to a ghost
With shipwrecks for bugles
And strings playing Menolades.

Fog hangs from you
Like time reserved for a ghost
Washed ashore in a haze.
Painting pictures of menolades.

Clndr Wrld

I'm on calculator time
In a binary haze
Counting off days
In a calendar world.

GREY STONE, SKY & BREATHING

Who needs a pick-me-up?
Well, there's whiskey at the bar
Pour yourself a healthy double -
Then drive off in your car.
Who's after a read of the news?
Mr Nomarks running for office
Looks like he might win
So step outside,
You're going to lose.
Walk out among the vitriol and parties
And tiptoe round the pain
And platitudes.
Someone knocked upon my door today
Selling truths for a living
giving his soul away.

I bought her emotions
She flew like birds
Into the sky and away.
Came back when
The memories played bad.
I took her sailing in winds
Neither of us could navigate
We do it now:
Her with the rope
Me with hope.

I suppose we alone belong to each
other
Clasped by hierarchy
Shackled to offices and machined
To the spirit of your malaise
Stuck in a microcosm
You deny, running parallel to
Your fascination of the same.
It's a weird existence,
wishing shit away.
it's a wasted world
Why we worry so
Why we worry.
I wonder, where's the wash
We were wringing out
Are we winding wounded
Are we walking with the world.
Well, some of us are,
Not all of us have loud voices
Spouting inferior opinions.
Carnival time,
Holidays come round
Laugh, live up
And wonder how life slipped away.

What becomes of papers
When they're used?
They get thrown.

What becomes of flowers
When their bloom is gone?
What became of the flowers
I picked for you
Now we're done?

What becomes of summer
When it pours?
Who needs a take me down?

There's gin at the ginhouse.
Let the love flow,
Stop wondering so much about rain: here's why:
Every day,
People see things.
mellow marsh and
Hurricanes, say.
we kill those things dead
Aliens couldn't settle here
There are just too many bugs
They could pick up
Or pass to us.
Or pass to us...
You passed love to me
And now I'm reduced,
Turned into, even,
Another person - another man.
Flowers all bloomed
I water where I can
Flowers, they bloom
I'll water where I can.
Flowers bloom.
Sometimes, we're weak as water
Add whiskey and we're done.
I watch the bluebells sway
In the green, green grass of the unknown.
And I see the grey blocks touch,
The foot of the sky.
And curls of yellow smoke
Spew out of the funnel
Leaving grey bells to chime
In the winter
With brown boxes lowered
Covered over with black mud
And watery tears fall
And feed the ground
Leaving green grass
To grow among the ghosts
And ruins.
And bluebells to sway
And grey stone
To touch the sky.

Doesn't mean I'm not aloud to fly,
In this time before I die.

I really like those times
When I hear myself breathing.

One Year

A lifetime of changes made efforlessly in one decision
The right one I made when our worlds made collison
These days they have made me the person I was destined to be
The person I waited forever to meet, now standing beside me
Now the days outside this dream can't hurt me with strife
Because your smile that mocks years worth of tears brings me back to life
I always belittled those characters in the movies, proclaiming romance could save us from the fall
But now I'm the fool, that beautiful fool, madly in love and embracing it all.

This Time At Last

Batteries don't last
Candles burn out
Bulbs expire
Money dwindles
Food rots
Time flies never to return
Clothes wear
Flowers wilt
Prison sentences end
Programmes finish
Stories full.
Metal rusts
Rock fades
Pop goes flat
Growing shrinks
Hearts Stop.

Queasy aint Supernatural

Charlatans of mockery with weapons of tears
Put together memories with stories that hear
All of life's heartaches the same but with changes
Fortune made and favour these supposedly well meaning strangers

Too Many Flowers In The Garden

It doesn't seem so far anymore
It doesn't mean so big a deal
What used to be an issue of weeds and of litter
No longer appears unsightly, no longer makes me bitter
For a garden of stone or of grass or of slab
May be easier to tend to but no attention will it grab
So for in theses days before it gets cold
You'll never find me claiming in words oh so bold
This is all too much, this is all to disheartening
You know you can never have too many flowers in your garden

Think

I'm hanging round awaiting wheels to move enough so I can be back home.
I just don't know what to think of you.
I'm rocking near rats in the river
On a sailboat somewhere far from me
I don't know what to think of you
I don't know what to think of me.

Allowing For Forgetfulness

You're a ghost now,
And once in every while
I'll find myself laughing,
Well, you can guess...
Allowing for forgetfulness.

You're a ghost now,
And sometimes when I stop
I'll catch my skin freeze
Well, I confess...
Sometimes I resent my guest.

You're a ghost now
And sometimes I take trains
I neither want nor need
Watching fields fly by,
Allowing for forgetfulness.

Movies Are Over In Seconds

It must be Monday, said the radio DJ, forcing Bob Geldof down my shirt.
I refused to believe him until I saw the calender, but someone had forgot to turn over the sheet and I didn't believe that either.
The newspaper, backed up the headless voice on the airwaves, but journalists they lie just to pleae.
My phone informed me it was Monday, but it's always demanding attention, so I thought it needed some time alone.
A man with a bucket in the street, once asked about days became quite raucous, seeming angry or assuming it was some set up for a reality show about Gardening.
A computer with friends in www places said all I needed to know about Monday was available at the touch of a button, but it all seemed too elaborate for me.
These movies are all over in seconds, so what difference does a Monday make?

If I wasn't Such An Alphabet Forgetter

I cried for the tenth time that hour.
I whimpered nine the hour before that.
I must have caught double figures before I dropped off to ponder and scream.
I thought it began with a whimsical W, but Winona just left without words.
I conjured up a tentative N, no, Natasha she said I was deranged.
I suggested a possible B, until I recalled the "Fuck You" and door slams Brenda made.
I reasoned a rational L, the rejection text from Leanne found still on my phone.
I dreamed a fantastic S, but Shirley she said she liked men not fools
I wish I was loved just once.
I wish I could it began with U.

Mountain On A Hill

Thunder!!!
Sunrise??
Aerosol cannister memory
Small town living so big
Usually age brings great theories
But here we all just remain.

Dress Up Conspiracy

My eyes are grey and silent
They stare with a hint of not knowing
Eye can do nothing to change this
These ears are above no canopy
Useless, not just to me but to you
They weren't any help in saving
The agony that surrounds me like glue
Lips mouthing words that sound silent
Affecting not day, no not night
Vocal chords twisting in ivy
And drowning with no one to climb