20Seven (4 page)

God lives in the beating heart of the majority of mankind,

just pulsing through the veins.

The need for power!

The need to control,

a
dominant force of megalomania.

The only almighty that has ever existed is the illusion

that you’re conditioned into believing in,

Like pollution with irony.

This illusion will bring out the devil.

Just look at the
church and the power they have,

s
uch hypocrites.

Now t
hat nagging feeling in the back of your mind

i
s slowly pushing into the light.

That nagging feeling has always existed,

insisting.

that you turn the key.

What if you did turn the key?

What if you let it out?

Well then, there stands your almighty god.

The creation of a mind.

A diverse complexity of saint vs sinner.

Forever to be set in stone,

the loser and the winner.

Am I just talking to myself again?

Trying to numb the pain of reality.

We cut our teeth to the bone,

We all break and share the pound of flesh

s
o we never have to feel alone.

I tore my nails from their bed

to reach and touch in the sincerest of ways.

S
craping my tongue along the blade

in hope of a coming change.

Breaking the image of an apparent perfection.

Yet all I
see is disgrace,

a
shame to see such a waste.

Since birth we’ve been falling from grace

aspiring to reach those heights again.

Given a life, given a chance

and we stood up bearing our teeth,

took everything with both hands.

The greed shone through so damn apparent,

We couldn’t just se
ttle for what we had been given.

Now your conscience is judge, jury and your very own executioner

and mankind can’t change what it has become.

The former self, a wreck left in the distance.

Just a shadow of the man I used to be.

A Tongue Full of Bullets

Is it a sin to tell the truth & effectively ruin a life?

With every indiscretion there is always a reaction,

n
egative in ways but positive in some.

The truth I hold in a manner of speaking,

could be just as effective as a gun.

So the hammer’s cocked

w
ith a risk of a misfire,

it could blow back up in my face
.

T
he intended target
could still
be wounded,

always to be shrouded by shame.

Life’s Own Style of Water Torture

The years have flooded the ocean,

a
cell that’s full to the brim.

Now a tidal wave of guilt will churn life’s floors

bringing them to the surface.

An ascent into day light for all to see
,

n
o longer submerged beneath.

And there’s nothing like a memory

b
een brought back to life just to cripple the senses.

Why do we associate the new with the old?

Thinking it could work out differently just seems senseless.

A N
ote In My Diary

A myth or a memory?

A taste sprinkled with delusion.

Taking in a breath of reality with the scent of desperation.

Things can never ever change,

It just has to stay the same
.

A gun to the head
!

A knife to the throat
!

It can never ever change

and despite my tongue’s attempts

t
hey only lead to failure.

Despite my best efforts

normality could be the saviour.

Our saving grace
,

a
n amazing grace!

How sweet the sound

of the deathly screams that pollute the night skies

c
oz when reality strikes

It takes a bite without us ever knowing why?

Just A Thought But…

A burial of lust,

sinking into the earth,

t
o be covered with the dirt

t
hat it truly deserves.

The moment the idea was birthed

It was sentenced to death.

With a constant shroud upon its head.

Play it safe just to keep it covered

a
nd to stay forever

A dream,
A memory.

I’m Bored

The boredom is killing me!

It’s like I’m being punished for being too complacent,

I’ve always looked at life through the window
,

It’s always been easier than living it
.

I’ve always watched life just flow by

as I thought it was safer than just jumping in.

Well now I’m here…

Telling you I’m ready to dip my toes,

t
elling you I’m ready to walk through the door,

t
elling you what I’m sure you already know.

You can see it on my face
,

t
he boredom has stripped me bare.

It’s like it’s taken my soul

and just left ME in its place…

The shell of a being,

the shadow of doubt rests within this thoughtless lout.

I guess it’s my own fault really!

The Fraud

Once like a brother but where art thou now?

From where did you cast that first stone?

I don’t understand your direction,

w
e lost all connection after you made a ‘U turn’.

Hypocritical nonsense devours my conscience

but it’s really not worth it, so for the time being I’ll leave it alone.

Now just a bastard sitting pretty you made your move

In this chess board city but I swear I’ll bury these bones.

Forgetting the past coz I no longer care
,

Now just a blurred image, a ghost…

To me you’re not really there.

A Blind Desire Deemed To Fail Again

This is it!

It all comes down to this.

This is not a test…

This is not a test of conscience.

Show me your will

your desire to blind,

w
ith integrity and a fine moral code.

Your desire to bind

Life and the sublime.

We balance on a fine line
,

A fine line called hope
.

A
nd this is just a re-run,

a
repeat of a coming disaster.

History imitating it
self,

While life follows in tow
.

The emptiness fills with laughter
,

In irony with a sarcastic tone

There’s nothing here for us anymore.

No More

We travel through time by ageing with every second
,

c
onstantly taking more than just mine

b
ut leaving your face in the past.

A little piece
of history never to repeat itself again,

w
e don’t need you round here no more

You know the score, the game is over

and you’re going home boy.

So don’t you ever come round here no more
,

If you
did in the future

y
our life would flash before those eyes.

Under achieving, amounting to nothing
,

t
hose few brief seconds only leading to one thing.

The only certainty there ever is
.

As you gasp for breath

with nothing left just the coldness of the floor,

You think to your self

I wish I never came round here no more.

Love Hurts

Please take it all off

…then pull yourself apart.

I want to wear you like leather,

skin tight, sutures bound together.

Keeping you to myself
,

Hidden in a box
.

Our chains are the frequent songs

that the sirens sing, forever.

Holding you down

holding your breath

h
olding it in

u
ntil you’re retching for air.

Such sweet convulsions
,

ribs almost escaping the skin
.

Innocent down to the bone
.

Oh so innocent down to the bone

and I will keep you to myself

The Big Climax

An action with no reaction

i
s an unfinished process,

i
t just needs to release to come full circle.

I
’m sitting and waiting

f
or something to happen

b
ut now it’s been months

w
ith no course of action,

a
nother problem to be swept aside.

Kept under the rug
,

j
ust hoping everybody keeps their mouths shut!

They honestly think
that ignorance is bliss

b
ut things can’t be hidden forever,

a
lways finding a way to make their grand reveal.

And this reveal will be perfect
!

One for the albums
,

A moment I shall steal
.

Is it really a bad thing if I re-set the motion?

Give it a nudge until there is no other option?

Other than
to finally deal with the issues that face them.

It’s about time that somebody made a stand
,

n
ot by whispering behind their backs.

It’s just something that HAS to happen
!

The ultimate climax
! (What a co-incidence)

So...
every action must have a reaction

s
o everyone can finally lay back and relax.

Think

Think of me as an absence, incomplete.

The hole in a wall,

the broken mirror.

The cracks in the pavement as you walk down the street.

Think of me as nothing, I was never there.

The missing piece.

The lost keys.

The thought that was lost and replaced with a blank stare.

Think of me as the hollow, an emptiness.

The void,

the vacant.

The deserted room only filled with silence.