doing time

Why celebrate the dawn when the sun don't shine?

I'm still bleeding ink like it's red red wine

I'm lyrically acute but I've missed out lines

You think you know life but you don't know mine.

This here's my city and I know every street

But how'd you call it home when you can't afford to eat?

Been raised in the valley but I'm walking concrete

They call me a thug but I'm one of the elite

Self-proclaimed yet understated

The power of a mind self-created

Fear of the unknown...translation...hated. 

Hold me, thrill me, kiss me

Kill me

I'm not the kind to run

If you hate me that much

It meant I'm someone

They got me doing time like I'm married to it

And the memory of you is what gets me through it

I'm cheating on the world because I'm second hand

Like an adopted kid they try to understand

But they can't see me with their scripted vision

I'm society's nightmare...subtle attrition

So know that

And love me if you dare

Ask what's on my mind and I'll take you there

I'd propose to you with a blade of grass

Make love to your rhythm on the first dance

Another level

Another dawn

Collaborate our words and call it our song

I'd like to play but I'm out of game

A blank page but each day's the same

Put pen to paper and it's still your name.

Twisting roots

Maybe Hemingway had doubts about the title because his story could not do it justice...'The Butterfly and the Tank'. Yes...I am still there...but in so many different contexts...and in the same still. The gravity of war against the lightweight tease. "Life is a joke" I told her. Perhaps she didn't note the irony. It's all a question of perception. "People are not confusing...only their perception of you". My words, possibly her thoughts. The train of fear as real as the Cold War. The dance of warriors fighting for the same cause...Bhagat Singh and Ghandi...violence and non-violence...back to the causal link...the Butterfly effect.

I'm piecing a jigsaw together...out of stolen words and collated splinters. It amounts to an inference...a representation measured against what I want to believe. I'm waiting for the moment it collapses now and I realise that the pieces were never meant to fit that way. The thorns are getting deeper. I am still falling...

For my Grandmother

Stop crying now

Because I am still here.

I am in the flowers

If you look outside your window

And I am in the birdsong

That wakes you up each morning

I am in the kitchen

When you are hungry

And I am in the laughter

At each inappropriate joke.

I am your wife, your mother, grandmother, sister, friend...

I am all these things

And I am also possibly the happiest person to see you.

So stop crying now

And give me a moment to cry

Because today everyone I love is here

And I cannot be there to welcome you.

scared

(Tomorrow).

"Whatever tomorrow brings I'll be there"

Incubus; Drive

mariposa

And even a corporate personality...a legal fiction...will claim the shape of flight across a heart in their valuation of their worth...a Damien Hirst theme first touched by 7...this morning. I woke up to you. And you were with me in my dreams..."Bongiorno principessa". And even the bill at Papillon cannot measure the price I will pay for you..."this is the price you pay for the life you choose". But I choose you...a hundred times...my love. And at your word I would leave them all...even if I never get you. And I will not ask the same of you - because this is unconditional. Today I breathed you and we were that close...you do not know how close.