Monthly Archives: September 2016

Phantom Mansion

As the walls feel like they’re caving in my mind
Everything suddenly feels beyond my fingertips

Walls I cannot touch, too far away
Yet I feel confined in this gated mansion of a life

Maids and Butlers
Reliant on those who talk about my life when they are faced to my behind

Pretending to help but covering up secrets and lies
Hiding rooms that contain my freedom
Instead they seek to confine my time
My space, the very fabric who I am
The universe within me

Enclosed in a few grande rooms

With smiling guests
Pharisees of the highest degree
Coming to view Delilah in all her containment

But her friends of another order will remind her of the life that lays beyond the walls
The life that could save her from the imprisoning mansion walls
Remind her of the reality of the lying and beguiling pharisees

I suddenly remembered I am no Delilah
And this is no grande mansion of my dreams

But a prison created to keep me from my true dreams
From my own universe

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Cirque Du Soleil

My eyes only grew murky as I let you lie to me
Confuse me with words of comfort and persuasion
My heart too good and naive to use and lose you

Like part of a circus
I let you make me a sideshow piece
Entertaining at best but soon I grew too pricy

Soon the backflips were not enough
The tight-rope began to be a noose around my neck that you pulled for every notch of your dissatisfied anger

Dangling now from the ceiling
I look down at all the games and obstacles laid beneath me and see the animal that you made me

So I elegantly dropped for you
Even as the pain spread through my ankles, I smiled for you
Bowed out gracefully for you

But now it is my time to run from you
My lover that turned into my owner

Your whips that once disciplined me out of love have made me bleed
And there is no happy future that my tarot foresees

The old gypsy was always me
I just hid her because you would treat her as if she were crazy

But it’s time I leave so I can truly be
This experience wasn’t meant to be what it turned out to be

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Prodigal Love

Like a fallen hero

You turn to vices and weapons of mass destruction you once shunned and left for villains


Wandering to all corners of the globe

Committing crimes in order to fill the missing pieces of your soul


But it’s in tatters now


Like a pedestrian dragged beneath the wheels of an awol trailer truck


Remnants of who you were remain

A phantom of your former self


So you go looking in the deepest crevices of the earth in hopes the darkness may hold clues that can fix you

Vices that can make you feel whole again


But you see, you were never a villain and heroes and heroines have always been your next of kin


So we search for you


Your family of justice

For we care for you


And wish to bring you from these destructive vices that may feel fill your soul but we can see they secretly eat at your world


Leaving you like a derelict factory with your walls stripped out and steel beams exposed


You don’t realise your humanity was your soul


But we’ll search for it with you, if you’ll let us come close…

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Facts of a Fairytale

Sometimes we make it sweet for our mind
This unnatural fascination with being broken

Dreaming of sirens and wood nymphs
With glorious scales and wings of green and blue, the colours merky with tales of how we truly feel.

Beauty unimaginable
Beauty no man can help but touch; no man can resist or unwatch

But where is the truth when we lay down to cry?
When we cry for all those nights we felt vilified and denied
The rights of our bodies, they never seem to be our own
So we ascbribe the violations we feel to aethetics compliments that can only cover our scars but can never rid us of our pain
Hiding in plain sight.

No nymph no Osun.

Just the memories of our shame drowning us below our waters, which we were told was beautiful
Our beauty will soon kill us
Like poison ivy ingested in the brain
Our mind becomes strewn poisonous flowers, trees that have no roots but enough dead leaves to drown out the light

At some point
When we truly fall asleep, away from our life of gimmicks
The water, the trees
They take over and drown out all that we can see; blinding us from false ecstasy.

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Drunken Scales

As I search for astrological meanings
All they seem to do is point towards you
My yearning for you increases like the moon does to the Earth’s tides
I endeavour to only be swallowed up by your waves and fluctuations
They give me so much satisfaction

I wish for you to feel all of me
Even if others feel like you waste me
I know the true power of your touch and disregard for my aesthetical beauty
You want to get to the core of me
The true lucid being that leaves many drunk with desire and others disgusted at their on inability to sate their lusts

And so I yearn for your touch
Like wine poured into the hands of a connoisseur
You do not use style to drink me
Rather you go straight to the wine bags that hold me and taste me pure and whole and undoubtedly

As my aroma swishes through your mouth and you spit me out
Many take your disregard for disdain
But only you know the true value of my tasteful fame

The moon watches and she observes:
A famous wine that you choose to consume in private to taste her true flavour
Enamoured and inebriated on her taste

A secret far from the eyes of preying consumers
You did not know the true meaning of waste
Rather you do not make haste, just as the sun and the moon
Everything has their time and place.

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A Rose In Your Chest…

It’s the voices that plague you

That don’t allow you to relax and breathe

That reminds you of the level of imperfection in your life and creates a pain in your left breast

The voices that reminds you of the lovers that left

The family that are bereft

And the friends that are tired of your stress.


Blood trickles out from your ears as you explore your illegal vices


Mind burning – A fascinating headache, made beautiful by this inebriation

All in the name of staying strong, your mind goes soft

Slowly turning to mush

And so you handle life in a rush.


Erratic turns of your head

As you feel the weight of society in a crush.

Overwhelmed and unfulfilled, you go looking for love.


Often finding yourself trapped in a closet, unable to breathe

A self-imposed claustrophobic dream…

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Fruits of Youth

The life of second guessing that flourishes from the seeds of doubt planted in your youth


Through gnashing teeth or beguiling smiles

All creating a den of insecurity from their insincerity


Laden in yolk from the crowd’s egg throws

Humiliation and shame then takes it foothold. Then you look old.


With nothing having sold in this world of consumerism

You begin to wonder at your own personal value and wisdom. “Why can’t I sell myself in this system of Capitalism?”

Drowning. You drown into a state of self loathing, strong enough to feel like a poison

Death calling you like it’s your only freedom


But yet, something shines on your pitiful soul and you cry “Namaste”

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