Perceptions

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Love is but a mysterious thing is it real or are Humans deluded?

 

In one fatal swoop –

perception does swing,

from shimmering skies to lone dark rooms.

 

Dark pink sunsets or cold and dusty basements –

beauty seems to lie within each.

 

Our preconceptions,

misconceptions –

of love so positive,

is it not just as malevolent as we?

Swimming

Rhythm = slow blues

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It’s midnight and I’m swimming with night noises bat wings flapping.

 

Red wine stars and palm trees make for strangely apt companions.

Scents of wine shiver my spine – so it should noting the price.

Or is price a mental construct to entice the buying of a product?

I contemplate it’s fragrant blend staring at mountains from the deep end.

 

Warm water laps my chest, moving like circles or a breath.

 

Desiring some fair company feel water churn as she swims past me.

 

Water pressure sucking pulling soul toward her dancing.

 

I swear it’s done on purpose life is one big beautiful circus.

And at least we have some bread for if not I’d probably stay in bed.

 

 

 

New Year

(Read in fast paced English accent)

Well it’s been an interesting year so far to say the very least. I attended a feast and fell in love with a married woman two times older. A thief broke into my bedroom, threatened to murder me before taking my wallet, keys and car after a quite interesting conversation about life, money and strife. At least he asked if I had insurance, he seemed quite apologetic for a murderous robber…

Although he threatened with a knife I felt he was quite careful with my life, and by the tone of conversation he was obviously competent at his vocation.

I let him drive the car for the evening before reporting it stolen the next morning. He promised it wouldn’t be damaged, apparently I’m the nicest person he’d ever managed. Ha.

To my amusement the policemen found my car, two days later quite undamaged. They told me with an authoritative lisp, that they were surprised it wasn’t a crisp. I didn’t however tell them of our intriguing conversation, they wouldn’t of understood that he probably needed the sensation.

The only reason I woke up was because of his wretched putrid stink, and I’m grateful for that stink I think.

Although my new friend didn’t return my wallet and keys as I’d hoped he might, I felt I’d done a favour for a man with no money for the night – at least it avoided a fight. I think I’ll call him John for the sake of personification.

It would appear old John took a liking to my music, at least one would wish – my CD’s had been rummaged with. I wonder if he had ever heard of Fleetwood Mac before his drive – the first song in the cue was “the chain” from ’92.

I wonder where old John is now, did he find an adequate hive? No he’s probably off sucking his sole through the eye of a crack pipe like a mess – but hey, gotta get a kick out of life with nothing somehow I do guess.

Drinking a beer I pondered the New Year, and had an epiphany land on my shoulder. I feel it’s somehow related to the woman two times older, if never we had met perhaps I would’ve been more red and bolder – and then I’d end up dead, life’s a bit funny when everything’s red.

The Scarlet Siren

 

smoke

1.

Stumble, scratch, fall – crawl

all the

dogs eat

lobsters.

Pot lids clinking – bubbles churning

boiled

by the

mobsters.

 

Plastic bags, smothering – crinkling

wrapping

round red

faces.

Suffocating – blinding, trapping

mind

attempts

escaping.

 

Long for sounds of rain – scents of

splashing

humid

roads.

All you see in front is how

you feel –

manas

imposed.

 

Cry out, help – rappings frantic

spiral

down

dark.

No-one seems to listen – screeching

break

scream

“fuck.”

 

2.

Searching for reprieve – find no

light, no

might, no

fight.

Eyes scanning – find a Siren – so damn

wise, so

bright, so

tight.

 

One hand holds a candle – calming

gentle

yellow

flickers.

The other softly brushes – pins and

needles

fingers

shiver.

 

Look up at the stars – connected

tell me

that you

want me.

Look up – stars – breath like strings

don’t say

that you

love me.

 

Seducing tones so soft – like moans

mind no

longer

begs.

Arteries fill with colour – pounding

every

thing

is red.

Identity Lost

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A spider

beautiful, black, orange and sprawled –

sits at the centre of his well spun prism of steel strong web.

Invincible, like a king.

Consuming anything and everything that enters his selfish trap.

 

Spray, spray.

He seethes as the pesticide invades his being –

twitching, resisting, this cannot be.

Falling to the ground – broken, withered, bound;

death cries imminent.

Who am I?

Sunsets

As I witness the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen, I can’t help but ponder the surreality of this magnificent planet. The sky is filled with an amazing array of colour – warm oranges and dark pinks morph into spectacular shades of gold set on a deep, relaxing blue canvas. Rainbows of the same pallet twist around mountainous cloud formations that seem to perfectly compliment the jagged landscape with which they dance. I dare not take a photo – no man-made technology could ever hope to reproduce something so profound as this moment that has arisen in my percept, as if it were gifted to me by my creator, intended to be experienced and never re-lived. As I take in this awesome sight, I can’t help but contemplate the uncanny perfection of this beautiful life-harbouring planet, floating alone in a cold and desolate solar system. It dawns on me that we Humans are living in Heaven, and we so often fail to recognise it.