To strum this guitar is for naught. Strumming the strum of the guitar of the guitar. The the guitar is for naught. For naught is the strum. Strumming strum strummy in the strum of the of the guitar.

Would she be enticed? She would be strumming. Would she be be strumming the strum of the guitar?          She would not be the the strum. I strum the D and the A strums the B and it all comes to the G string. Would I not if I did strum the G if I strummed it so?

Yes.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe yes.
Maybe yes.
Maybe maybe maybe no.
No.
NO.

Shall I have a glass of jack and coke? If I should not should I strum the G of the jack of the jack and the coke? Should she be she be not? Do I dare to         entice? If I should dare to not should should I find the jack?

I should call should I call if I do if I don’t? What have I to do but strum and strum and drink and drink and think of the flat note? I will call. Will it pickup?

The taste of Jack is acquired it is. It is acquired and acquired      and not for her. She’s a rosé and what can it be that a cheap whisky can amount to a fine wine? It cannot and I cannot. I cannot and will I call will I again?

Will I strum strum the gun of the sun? Will I find the gun will it find the sun and will it it will not find her?

How about a game of poker? I play a mean game a game I play. Please please do play with me. If you would please then please oblige. If not then please do. If do it would make all of it worth it.

Flush.
2 of a kind.
Full House
Royal flush.

Fold.

It is midnight I should be off. Off I shall just strum and never bother. Never shall I bother and never shall I be bothered.
Again.

The first time I saw you it was in math class.
I didn't notice anything about you at first I just memorized the back of how your head was.
After all, I had an hour to ****.
The second time I saw you were in English class.
You sat next to me but not by choice.
But I was happy about it.
It took me about four to five weeks to talk to you,
and I wasn't even the one to speak first.
You introduced yourself and then we worked together on an assignment.
It's been two weeks and I haven't said another word and I probably won't out of random.
My anxiety swallows me whole
and I'm sorry I can't even say hello.
But I have had time to notice you.
And let me just say
I'm in love with your taste in music
I'm in love with the way you hold your books
thinking that if you change the sound of your voice when the diagonal changes,
or if you struggle reading words you've never seen before and sit there for a few seconds trying to piece together what they mean.
I love how you can play the mandolin, you should show me sometime.
As I think about these things I also pick up how you would never even think of me.
I mean really,
you probably want some girl that's outgoing and can strum a guitar solo at midnight with you.
You probably want someone with long hair you can intertwine your fingers in,
or someone you can spend an afternoon together after church with.
I can't move mountains
and I can't even speak without looking like a fool,
but even if nothing will ever happen
It would be just as quite exciting being friends with you.
We could trade books and make each other mixtapes.
It hasn't even been a month yet and I'm already writing mediocre poetry about you.
I'm sorry about that by the way.
I'm not asking for a relationship but a friendship with someone like you would feel just the same.

There's one rotten string on my Ukulele
That holds me back from playing
Behind it, an inexplicable frustration
But the explanation goes without saying.

Strum, Strum, Buzz, Strum
Why can't I just play the chord
Is something wrong with the instrument?
Beyond repair I can afford?

Maybe it's me, that's playing wrong
Why can't I strum that string?
I can't play my freaking melody,
So I guess I'll just try to sing.

the base drum beats
bump... bump... bump... bump... bump...
the base guitar plays one note
brung... brung... brung... brung... brung...
the rhythm guitar strums one chord
strum... strum... strum... strum... strum...
Then the lead guitarist rings out in epic
greatness, as the lights turn up
you see him ripping up the guitar with his fingers everywhere at once
playing a great solo
moving across the stage
curly hair all over
breathing hard.
the Singer starts his song
clear but unique
no other singer could sing like he
but it's not the reason I love AC/DC
it is because of the guitarist
ANGUS YOUNG!
a inspiration above many!

There's no justice,
The sorry world's in pain,
collecting pittances of pennies,
in a flat cap in the rain,
raindrops beat against their skin,
no justice for the jacks of hearts,
selling music to save their souls,
music brings the pennies in,
just to feed the crowd.

Chorus
And there's no justice,
to live we strum,
but never ***,
we fight, we sing, we strum,  play the system ,
happily.

Fight to survive ,
alive again,
Strumming through the pouring rain,
tomorrow have to do it all again,
Beat out our rhythm in the pouring rain,
Hell, no justice for the poor boys,
singing in the pouring rain,
again.

Chorus
And there's no justice,
to live we strum,
but never ***,
we fight, we sing, we strum, play the system ,
happily.

Mountains of money,
sing songs for our dreams,
sing for our supper,
right here,
right now,
under pillars of society,
once again,
we're running free.

Chorus
And there's no justice,
to live we strum,
but never ***,
we fight, we sing, we strum, play the system ,
happily.
(C) LIVVI

Newbury
Strum chords
Very urban

Man
Hair in bun
Guitar
Strum strum


music stops
Forehead creases

I have to go now.
Says Into microphone

at long last
he sings a song for me
sweet
   gentle
     caressing
i watch and i am enraptured
   by the melody
each strum of the guitar strings
   quicken my heart a beat
every note he sings
feels like soft breath against my neck
   making me woozy

he glances up, catches my eye
   and winks

i am doomed.

AWAKENING

Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell

12 DELIRIA

1st Delirium: COLLAPSES

Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice

2nd Delirium: DESCENTS

Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted ***
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb

3rd Delirium: FATES

Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks

4th Delirium: LOST SOULS

Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won

5th Delirium: INTROSPECTION

Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs

6th Delirium: THE VOID

Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore

7th Delirium: SEARCHING

Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
****** dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow

8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME

Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free

9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS

Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum

10th Delirium: ALIENATION

Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why

11th Delirium: JETSAM

Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found

12th Delirium: RELIEF

Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony

REAWAKENING

Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores

I can remember that first encounter. He was a man in his early thirties, bright eyes but with a dark grin and was smoking your cigars wearing a black hat and he was also carrying a guitar. He was here to show me how to strum an few chords.

I remember him distinctively saying...

"Guitar playing I am about to teach you is really the same as love making you know?"

I  laughed and blankly said
"but how so?"

" Well... (grinning)
Each string has to be carefully plucked, and contains a different  sensation and vibe if you mishandle the strings that final note will sound awful.

He was showing me how to re-tune and play a few chords which were C, D and G then pass me over the guitar back to me.
"Its your turn dear, and be really gentle"

While doing this and playing the first few chords of the guitar which was D I could feel him rub my shoulders and chest gently.
"Don't worry you can trust me, I was just loosening you up we can't have you feeling tense"
"Now, show me a G"

I begin to play the chord G while doing that he then grasped firmly on my other hand : I can feel a surge of heat from his hands firing up my fingers. This heat was making its way to my chest. He now caressed and circled around the chest and then higher up to my *****. I can feel his breath and his tongue swirling and stretching out to **** on my *******.

"Okay ... final note play me a C"

I crouch down to the floor and begin to strum that final chord and can then feel him stretch his hands beneath my skirt I could feel the sensations further of his fingers strumming my ***** in the same rhythmic motions of his guitar previously.

"See what I said? music playing really is the same as love making"
"I nodded and said yeah I suppose"

A bit shaken and uncertain how to respond but he kept whispering into my ear and repeating that same line: while kissing me on my cheeks, stroking me up and down in circular motions in which I could feel a tense feeling of release and then silence again

Was that the final note?

There once was a hero who was mute,
A musical hero, to boot!
His fingers did not strum
A guitar or tap a drum;
He saved the kingdom with a flute!

-------------------------------------------------

A soldier clouded by strife,
To have love lost like a life.
Finds beauty in flowers,
Destroys evil powers,
While wielding an oversized knife!

-------------------------------------------------

An army of soldiers well-trained,
Though, in action they seem dead-brained;
Hit with his own bomb,
That one knows your mom,
It’s a battlefield of the deranged.

-SLuR

Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...

Come grab your guitar
we'll sings some songs
like they did back in ''66
words found over a bottle of rye
'bout how the times are a changing
look around and you will see
its time to set ourselves free
your government is in control
while your tied to the progress wheel
round and round and round  it goes
where it all stops only freedom knows
so come on strum those frenetic chords
let the words flow from your heart
grab your life back from the tyrant's hand
rise from this sleep and make a stand.

Blades of grass shivered
As the fingers of the wind strum
A hum ever soft and hauntingly serene
Sweetest song my heart reluctantly would welcome

I stare into the minuscule expanse of land
The horizon does not exist far here...
But still my eyes would stretch
To see the obscured very clear

All alone save for the company of a lone tree
And the jovial chirps of annoying birds
On this island with very little space
Trying to find comfort in ill-arranged words

My eyes do see but my heart remains obstinate
Beauty of the universe would always invite
I could just jump and join in its merriment
But... I am just a tethered kite

I'd want to rise to the highest skies
To be one with the nature's song, composed and tuned
Alas bound to a string, I can only go so far
I am my own island,
                      *helpless and marooned...

her dress flies round her face and I have been born in this way
that my rages there die

it has been foretold by secret ladybugs whirring 
whom I lend to my beloved when I kiss her to soothe her 
that my rages there die

I have taken fingers from 'round the rising angel away
and her dress flies round her face and I have been borne in this way

donkey in the barn who dreams of gold,  O wind upon his beloved's ears
where ruby thighs of folded flesh and blood of wars comes Spring

odd and beautiful flowers are sprung

braids of mud embrace the skin of those who bray on the knee of their masters
where rivers of blood the Buddha swims pink fizz and whirling bone
such tears sublime is leadgun simple clowned and winged socratic
godself poison mimicry of war's shred and burr let the hearts and minds fall droplet to ground
let the war dead drink their own rain
oval is the yawn of the sun and burly shadows weep sockets
where new flowers shall grow odd and beautiful pollen 
shall spring

children dream of trapeze birds laughing grinning rising falling at last into the ground 
how they learn that splendor and love is  ironic ascension 

odd and beautiful flowers 
thunderous rivers of blood the Bluebird sings the echoes
let the Bluebird sing of death no less than the crack of birth from egg
are sprung
oddly flowers beautiful
I pick a ***, for her, of goblin flowers,
       where sunbeam ponies she so loved high whinny.
     may the fat bees strum and wild ponies make love,
and baby birds grow big in kind hands of powerful trees
     may the meadow where she lies
pray through all, who need, there be pollen of eyes that hear
 
pale flower godmath raiment lay me rise me
let the Bluebird sing of death
I am mighty upon the breast my true dreams press
but when she weeps at my inconsolable rages
an angel I wish would swim bursts into me naked 
here is a rain from my thoughts where she walks 
with her cello and my bow
Limber seas and mountain dew blood of many tenderly writhe
viscous streams the dove in heaven tells sadly in sleep bends down the  brow each new soldier child 

pale flower godmath raiment lay me rise me
let the Bluebird sing of death
let the sun crack where the dead man peels my flesh from my hands trying to say goodbye 
let the wardead lift up their mouths their oval grins let them drink their own rain

the plaster dreams of dreary kings 
fall not round my hips and the whine of whips are far beyond the cello of lovely nights
her ******* and her thighs have forsaken the numberless dismal rains
upon these fluffy newborn children we lay our heads like down upon the duck in the dusk
upon soft pillows Buddha madly drumming Jesus spinning rain
the ducklings race and the pond seeks no moon nor sun
where lovers' beloveds swim

oingo boingo holes in hands of Jesus and Buddha rivet the godsun of baby bird eyes 
it has been foretold by secret ladybugs whirring 
whom I lend to my beloved when I kiss her to soothe her 
that my rages there die

for upon the last day that I live I shall see the true sky
upon the opened eye of the pastel lids of a new bird born dying

let me raise my veins and tendons 
from my fingers shall grasp the mother birds a math of upswoop 
let there be terrible storms of beauty let the donkey in barn who dreams of gold find love
a daisy sun and upon this I try forevermore to ascend when I kiss my beloved
there shall be terrible storms of beauty 

I have taken fingers from 'round the rising angel away
and her dress flies round her face and I have been born in this way
but there upon the mountain where a once fiery stormy river raged in dawns restless pounding
tumorous thoughts of old men whose young bodies give birth to themselves
abortion of souls by songs of flags' lie they shimmering
upon the upraised red streaked fingers of hybrid monster theories
vultures and the rats grow fat with existentialist jacking
brays ***** across their yellowed rivers  

their tears are hidden to them the way simple men come with axes
when the automatic weapons run dry melting
each rising atomic thing shall escape alone and search for its brethren
each hyena must dance naked in rain the last day
on a highway no child's cry can cease

let the sun crack where the dead man peels my flesh from my hands
trying to say goodbye and let them lift their mouths up and drink their rain
my love's ******* and thighs have forsaken the numberless dismal rains
upon our fluffy newborn child we lay our heads down upon
soft pillows 

take the glowing wafting breads of autumn and winter shall lay down no more
let me drink from the socket of the tender pastel ****** of death
where the baby wren dreams long after it has fallen and risen again 

where battlefields leave wisdom come Spring in odd and beautiful flowers

meadows arise with great fury my flesh and mountains and valleys cease their separation
there are many daisies and bumble bee songs in the heart of each unborn child
each young girl touches when she watches the ponies and the daffodils sway

giant head of death ambitious reminiscence
a red mud land of untold photon castles that tremble in the night
where the owlet gathers its fat body like goblets of scotch in the night
rancorous blackberry swaying tress of my true love's ******* 
where fingers of god the costume of moon is dew

I have taken fingers from 'round the rising angel away
and her dress flies round her face and I have been born in this way
where Buddha slides the eggplant curve and night falls, deep, into the ground
where battlefields leave wisdom come Spring through odd and beautiful flowers

where oingo boingo turtle eyes beam from the holes of Jesus
lay me mighty at my own feet


and her dress flies round her face and I have been born in this way
rancorous blackberry swaying tress of my true love's ******* 
where fingers of god the costume of moon is dew where Buddha slides the eggplant curve
night falls deep into the ground
oddly flowers beautiful


I pick a ***, for her, of goblin flowers,
       where sunbeam ponies she so loved high whinny.
My garden yet is filled with merry powers.
I pick a ***, for her, of goblin flowers.
May Jesus hold her, run with her, play with her.
Last night I heard my puppy's eyes dying fly.
I pick a ***, for her, of goblin flowers,
       where sunbeam ponies she so loved high whinny.
 








.

Life is a river flowing,
Beautiful and challenging.
Begins with birth,
Ends with death,
Same source.
Life is a treasure,
Its contents has no measure.
Down the river of our life,
Roars raindrops of love and strife,
Laughter, dreams and sorrows.
Life,like the river splits into arms,
Moving where we want it to strum,
With  courage and right attitude,
Not to forget HIS gratitude,
Either be islanded between our negative thoughts,
Or plunge down into a long waterfall of depressive  noughts.
Let the sparkling water of life flow through us adventurously,
Vibrating, exciting and luxuriously,
Awakening every cell and fibre in us.
As the river of our life takes a turn and a bend,
We never know what it will send.
All we have to do is follow the right
path,
And not cross HIS wrath.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(the reasons why you’ll never know),
whisked away in winter’s winds, your sleeping sighs remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Well, I’ve often made my way
within the dark before the day,
but it’s never that I’ve ever felt this lonely.
So I leave this parting note,
the first farewell I ever wrote,
though these lines embody more than farewell only.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n what I’ll find you’ll never know,
concealed in clouds of untamed clover, tussled hair reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Alas, my love has grown too strong
for I’ve lain with you so long
with your every need perceived, though never spoken.
’n as I try to disengage,
I’m like a tiger in a cage,
hesitating ’fore a padlock hanging broken.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(across a bridge you’ll never know),
to quench abandoned burning hills, your yearning lips remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you wake and shed a tear
finding me no longer here,
save your weeping for another, not so ghostly.
’n if you scan the spangled sky,
as you ache when asking why,
realize ’twas really you I wanted mostly.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(reshuffling cards you’ll never know),
defying fate beneath the stars, your diamond eyes remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Shun the shadows in the late
disappearing through your gate,
aghast and groping through their early morning sorrows,
like the echoes of my thought,
flitting, fleeting, overwrought,
as reflected in the realms of vague tomorrows.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n what I’ll see you’ll never know),
pursuing pebbles on a beach, your freckled nose reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you glimpse a troubled form
within a restless ruby storm,
turn your collar 'gainst the wind and never follow.
For by then it’s much too late
(yes the distance far too great)
and you’d only find the feathers of a swallow.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(along a road you’ll never know),
adrift on half-forbidden paths, your slender back reminds me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Should you yearn once more to tease,
unleash your breath upon a breeze
’n let the whispered winds of yesterday caress me,
and perchance recall the time
(when our love was in its prime),
I relied upon your laughter to possess me.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n it’s so hard you’ll never know),
entwined in twirls of fortune’s wheel, embracing arms remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Once I was yours and you were mine
sipping pearls of purple wine –
except these haunting hints, there’ll be no spectres chasing.
’n if the flashbacks grow acute,
I’ll strum the strings upon my lute
subduing bygone ancient ghosts, still standing, facing.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n what I’ll hear you’ll never know,
though echoed in a thousand drums, your throbbing ******* remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Well, the candle by my side
has now melted down and died,
though its fire blazes on within the mirror.
And the clock behind the door
is throbbing, pounding with a roar,
as my moment to depart approaches nearer.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(along a shore you’ll never know),
engulfed in deep and distant tides, your restless thighs remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

But I’ll take along the ring,
the one you carved for me in spring,
though it journeyed as an orphan on my finger.
And I’ll hang it from my neck
while I ***** a lonesome trek,
as a keepsake of your ardor, while it lingers.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go
(’n what I’ll see you’ll never know),
immersed in fields of flowers wild, your amber eyes remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
phantom memories a’ chasing close behind me.

Now I’ll kiss your sleeping eyes
ere I mount the blushing skies
as I bid farewell, adieu, in morning’s splendour.
Then I’ll fade within the haze,
immured in miles of my own maze
as I wander, breaking chains of love’s surrender.

I’m on my way, I’ve got to go,
’n when I rue you’ll never know
the pulsing passions of the past and shadows that remind me.
And I’ll ramble where I please,
sometimes slipping to my knees,
till the phantoms start a’ fading far behind me.

Dear Body;

I really didn't think we were going to make it this far.
We just stood out too much.
Remember the first time someone talked negatively about your eyes? Your skin, hair, legs, arms?
Remember the time when we had to use your weight as data in math class? I think that's when I first started resenting you.
I began working you tirelessly, trying every crazy new diet, working you until you almost broke.
I didn't listen to you. I ignored you when you were tired, or hungry, or you just needed a break.
I rewarded you when you became a little smaller and scolded you when you became a little bigger.
I'm sorry.
They wanted me to hate you. They wanted me to hate myself.
To carry this weight of shame and embarrassment that did not belong to me.
Or my neck, or my arms, or my shoulders...which were always tense with fear.
Eventually...a ***** gets tired!!
Why should I punish you for being as you are?
That goes against everything I believe in.
We deserve better!!
Enough is enough *******!!
We've been through a lot...a lot.
Yes, I understand you might be tired, but we've only passed the first lap of the race.
I'll keep pushing you a little harder than I have before.
But this time, I'll listen to you. I'll feed you, and give you breaks when you need them.
I know you can handle , you're a tough *****.
I know you.
Its taken me 15 and 1/2 years to figure you out, but I understand you now.
And we're gonna be okay. Even if it's only just for today. Were gonna be okay.
Before I go, I want to thank you...
Thank you for letting me play piano and strum a ukulele, for allowing me to write poems and stories.
Thank you for letting me laugh and smile, letting me engage in mischievous things, having fun.
Thank you for telling me when something is dangerous, or I might get hurt. Knowing when I need to leave, back away, or that my body can't handle something.
Thank you for letting me hold and comfort the ones I love. Allowing me to be generous and compassionate.
Thank you for assisting me during tests, helping me retain knowledge and receive all A's.
Thank you for sometimes allowing me to do crazy things, and to sometimes be a little destructive and wild. You're always open to tying new things.

Thank you for being you.

I promise to listen to you from now on, I promise to celebrate you instead of shame you.

I promise that we're gonna make it. We'll be okay.

Strum stronger
so that I may listen
a bit longer.

We are like two guitar picks
They are all so unique
Different shapes
Different sizes
Different textures
Different smells
Different feels
Different beings
But we
We are identical
Just like each other
And we play music that is so different
No one gets it
No one figures it why
But so it is
And only we can get what flows out of it
Strumming along in dischord
And harmony too
You’re just like me
And I am just like you
But we have our own guitars
And that is where our melody flows
The music all so complete
All so perfect
That it makes you just not believe
Coz things cannot be perfect
For nothing ever is complete
For beauty lies in incompleteness
And imperfection
And we with our guitars
Are just so ****** perfect
That it bleeds me to see us that way
If only guitar picks like us
Were left alone with each other
And never touched or disturbed
We wouldn’t get around to do anything
For the two of us
Are of the same kind
We can’t get music out of us
Or each other
Coz we are no guitars
And we won’t have them
Or anything else
But just each other
Two guitar picks
With the same lives
Touch
Smell
Shape and design
The only two unique
That no one else can match
That no one else can get
And there we lie together in the corner
No one to ruffle us
Just left to ourselves
And we lie there
By our sides
And we can’t play no music
And we can’t strum a song
Coz we are two guitar picks
Without nothing else
Without no guitars
But only ourselves
Which is just so ****** incomplete
And so imperfect
So mighty beautiful..

Like an onion, I had layers.
And you peeled me away, one at a time.

One layer off.
You saw my favorites.
The food and drinks I crave for.
The wall paint I wanted for my room.
The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots.
And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat.

One layer off.
You saw my hobbies.
The words I stitched together.
The stars that formed our zodiac sign.
The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball.
And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby.

One layer off.
You saw my dreams.
The plane ticket to Paris.
The thrill of a bungee jump.
The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain.
And the license as a medical physician.

One layer off.
You saw my strengths.
The smile behind the false judgements.
The tears I fought back with pride.
The temperance, confidence, adjustments.
And the self-love I have strongly magnified.

One layer off.
You saw my insecurities.
The missing dimple on my left cheek.
The pimples on my forehead.
The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk.
And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure.

One layer off.
You saw my regrets.
The kisses I could have refused.
The friends I thought were true.
The false assumptions, unmet expectations.
And the trust I gave to the wrong person.

One layer off.
You saw my secrets.
The punches I had to take.
The bruises I covered with my sleeves.
The lies, frustrations, disappointments.
And the brokenness suppressed in my memory.

The last layer, off.
You saw through me.
The anxiousness escalating slowly.
The exposure feeling uneasy.
I felt stripped, explored, unguarded.
And in my nakedness - you had to choose:

To love or to leave me,
For who I really am.

You sit behind a glorious loom
Weaving and tugging the threads
Not of silk or cloth
But of the fabric of reality
You manipulate them
Steadily weaving my dreams
Into a blanket of memories
To keep us warm at night
As you are plucking the strings
Not of guitar or harp
But those of my heart
Strumming a tune known to all
That sweet melody
That sacred hymn
The song within.

God gave mankind that old Rock and Roll
So maybe just maybe it can save my soul
God gave to mankind them old moody blues
So that my good friend is path I choose
So here I sit
And strum my guitar
And with each note
I wage holy war

There's a tree over there
that waits for its dreamer.

I have survived many.
And lost much
but to tell all would encumber several human spans
because
I have lived and longed.
I have learned and yearned.
I have waited.
At the train station, where existence can only be fulfilled
via a spiritual connection.
Bounded by roots that twist and secure
Soon to be bonded with thoughts
Floating through the sky, riding the air waves, see-through till caught
in a spider's web, or something like it.
And imaginary gets real.
Take in the matter
Scrub the void with scrounged emotions and colors
Pour in materials of lint and string.
Mediums with no particular conductance,
but taught it tight
and strum till the vibrations reverberate
and bring your idea to life in my wings
Because you are my dreamer.
And I am your catcher.
Hung on a wooden peg,
in your study.
Waiting for the day you
pick me up
and all your dreams tumble out and
materialize
and you realize **who you are.

There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips

longing
1. noun; a yearning desire
- i never used to be uncomfortable in my own bed. i knew your name before my rib cage started to sing it in my sleep. every night that has passed crosses itself off of a pocket-calendar that is stuck in the drawers of my chest. you move your favorite things into the empty spaces, you hang your worst fears up like clothes that are waiting to dry, you scratch how you love into the bedpost and put your handprints all over the walls. i can't take a deep breath without
hearing your voice in the refrain of my lungs.

yearnining
2. noun; a feeling of strong want or need
- the first time i heard your voice, it sounded exactly like what
your voice should sound like. soft, barely above a whisper, low
and confident and eager. when you spoke, i wanted
to cancel the outside noise of my breathing to listen to you. i wanted
to close my eyes and imagine that voice next to my ear, barely
above a whisper, low and confident and eager and right there
with both of our breathing suspended by its echo.

desire
3. noun; a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen.
- every day it is something different. your eyes and how they
almost close when you smile. how your whole family has brown
eyes but you have bright blue ones that turn to gray as the
seasons wear on. your hands and how they look like you
should play an instrument, im saying put those hands to
good use and find something to strum. and we laugh because
you know what i mean. your laugh. it sounds like an answer
to a question i've been asking the silence.
give me someone to love like that. give me someone to love like that. give me-
like a call back from the
darkness. like, here he is in all of his glory and you
still can't have him.

do not be seduced by those with a reputation of a heartbreaker

do not allow them to strum on your heartstrings
because you are not someone's instrument.
do not misinterpret their charms as care or love for you

do not allow them to throw beautiful words down your throat at night
because you will wake up in the morning choking on them
and they will be nowhere to be found.

I'll Take Belize Please

the water so blue in the caribbean sea
I could almost see the reflection of me
the palm trees with banana and coconut
the man on the corner chewing a cigar ****

the gentle breeze and sun so bright
the only thing better than the cool soft night
me friend Gomer he say to me
I'd like to dive to find the perly

I knew what he meant it must be so
he thinks of the perl wherever he go
in his straw brimmed hat drinking the ***
he pick up his guitar and he begin to strum

it was a song of cheer and a song of sad
so glad he be here but still feeling bad
he try to shake off saying oh what the hell
swirling the *** in his coconut shell  

he still wanted to share this beautiful place
he wished to see the smile on her face
her long golden hair blowing in the wind
the sand on her feet and then he grinned

it was a thought that only he knew
and maybe one other member of the crew
an imaginary hug a gentle kiss fall to his knees
if you don't mind he'll take Balize please

Caribbean Joseph ....

Rip open my insides and devour my flesh. I'm a caged spirit begging to heal. ******* venom and eternity will be yours. Sin can be so devilishly juicy. Play my strings like a violin. I'll return the favor as I strum your guitar. Let us levitate for a while. Euphoria is right around the corner.

Shut up for once, with your arguments about how I'm not listening. I feel as if all I ever do is listen. You shouldn't assume things about me, you don't know me the way you think you do. You don't know me. I'm thinking about things that should make me cry, but they seem right for now. They seem good to think about. I will cry and whine and scream about being alone, but this is not an invitation to console me. No, I believe that the urge for you is long gone. You're upset, I cradle I adore I try to help. I'm hurt, and you open the message and drop off the face of the earth. RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAG. Please, stop acting as if I'm hurting you. Stop pretending that I'm the bad guy. Guess what? I have a right to feel this way. "My past" you offer when I'm mad at you. "My past makes me feel this way." But if I ever? Oh, ** **! If I dare use that? "don't use your past as an excuse to be a ****** person." You may have gone through some hard ****, Frenchie. But so did I. But you wouldn't know that, would you? OH, SURE! You know about my grandfather, who doesn't? What else? Do you know anything else? Of course not. Not much, not that I remember just yet. Why's that? why don't you know? Because I've come to realize that talking to you is near pointless.
  But you wouldn't get that, right? Even if I wrote novels upon novels, trying to let you get me, begging for you to read, you wouldn't get it. You call me close-minded all of the time. "you'd make a terrible president." Remember? I do. I try to remember everything. Just so I make sure not to make mistakes. You call me close-minded, and yet the moment anything I should/try to talk about is brought up, you disappear. But then you get mad at me for not being able to open up... hmm. I reckon it's my past, yes? I think that maybe it's my past, Sydney. OH? But you'd understand this, hm? HA! AS IF. As if you'd ******* care as if you ******* care. "You know I care about you more than I probably should, right?" Shut up.  You don't care. I know you don't. (my my my, you sound toxic, J) IM ******! ****** AND HURT! AND ALONE! OH? You're drunk, aren't you? Haven't you been? Your friends said so, the ones you've kissed, the ones you've kissed! Drunk, drunk, drunk, they message me, you in the background on your phone. Drinking, drinking drinking, smoke a bowl or seven, and who knows what else? Perhaps a massive ****, right? With your friends that you've kissed before. I'd know, I have the videos of it. But if I even mention someone I've kissed, what do you do? Blank face, play "****** on my mind" until the guilt makes me shut up, smile, change the subject. OH! The friends you've kissed, the friends you've kissed, the friends you've kissed, they text back so easily, I just wanted to see how your day was, how did you sleep, I just want to love you. Don't act like you're the victim here, don't ******* act like this. I asked how your day was, I asked how your day was, I only wanted to know how your ******* day was! Why is it that you leave me on seen? I asked how your day was, how did you sleep? "I'm with friends." "oh, I'm sorry love, I love you, stay safe." hm? and then what? opened 12 hours ago. I said I loved you I said I loved you I said I loved you. So why is it that when I post on my story about watching Twilight because I'm lonely, mostly a joke, halfway true, you're mad? Am I not allowed to feel alone, with the "opened 12 hours ago" sign blinking, screaming, at me, blinding me with its neon talons when it takes flight into dearest memory lane? Oh! MY EYES! THEY TEAR MY EYES, MY EYES! I'M BLIND! I'm BLEEDING! WILL I EVER SEE?
   Am I not allowed to feel that way? Am I not allowed to feel? a l o n e? Is that it? How is it that you can message me from your other account, what are you doing on there? You have another account, what do you do there? Oh, I sound toxic. It's my past, Sydney, it's my past!! Ha! WHY ARE YOU MAD AT ME BEING ALONE! Tell me, I've forgotten, are feelings not allowed? I think that I remember that part of my past, don't feel things. Punish them, punish me, yes? Ignore me for a while, I spoke out against you. IM SORRY JUSTIN IM SORRY JUSTIN I AM SORRY!
   I think you forget that I'm often alone, so why is it that you're mad at me? I'm alone with these thoughts, thoughts like people in a crowd, I sit in the corner, but I know they're all talking about me. Oh, I am alone. With these people who offer to help. HOW DARE THEY? I swat away their hand. ******* ******* *******! You don't know me. you don't know me. YOU CAN'T HELP ME! I'm alone. "I'm always here for you." I know it's wrong of me to believe you, I need you often, there's something wrong with me. Maybe it's my past, hm, maybe it's my past. Sometimes I can't breathe in enough air, I gasp, my lungs fill, my body expands, yet it is not enough. I can't breathe enough, I'm not breathing enough, DONT PANIC DONT PANIC DONT PANIC! ****! Crazy ***** is going through another episode, give them more pills. I CAN'T GO BACK TO THAT PLACE, OH THEY SCREAM TOO MUCH! Why are you mad? Why are you mad at me? What did I do? Did I feel wrong?
  Are you mad? At? Me? For being? Alone? When it is you that's left me. You decided to stop responding, give up, give in, move along with your day. My days aren't as productive. I'm nothing, just a lazy ***, my father says. (having your rights debated is always a fun exercise.) You get angry so often, I shouldn't feel this way? I SHOULDN'T FEEL LIKE THIS! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT "THIS" IS! As ******' if you'd get what's going on in my head, yes? Hell, Sydney, you hardly know what's going on in your head, right? But let me help you, yeah? Like you want? Like you need me to? Like you ask me to and then get mad if I can't, right? Am I right? Am I right? Am I right?
  Tell me, why'd you only ever call me when you're high?
  OH! IS IT SO HARD TO TEXT ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY? Shut up, J, she's not obligated to text you. Now you're just being silly. I leave you on seen for a minute, right? So then you ******* up, and then your mood switches and you get mad at me. OH ** **! You leave for half a day, and then more because now I reckon we aren't on talking terms, at least not on my side for a while. After all, now I need to think and make a decision, and then have the audacity to be mad at me because I feel.. a l o n e? Excuse me. EXCUSE ME EXCUSE ME EXCUSE ME! IT'S PART OF MY PAST HAH! Shut up, I hate that excuse of yours. Do you remember? "Stop using your mental illnesses as an excuse for being a ****** person" do you remember that? I do. Guess what? I can. I CAN USE THEM AS AN EXCUSE, IT LITERALLY IS AN EXCUSE, I CANNOT HELP HOW I FEEL! I CANNOT HELP HOW I FEEL! I CANNOT HELP hOW I FEEL! I feel things! Different from what you do, they do, anyone does. I FEEL .. OTHER! THINGS!..as if you'd get that, yes? I'm lonely. I'm "utterly" alone, as I often am, BUT WHY! WHY ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME FEEL AWFUL FOR IT? I can't feel things without you getting so upset at me. My mental state is ****, oh but you never see it do you? Years of practice, my love. And yet you claim to be able to read me, yes? I hate you. I do, my darling, I despise you. You sicken me, give me a kiss, yeah?
  "You don't deserve words." someone told me today. It wouldn't have bothered me on any other occasion,  I would have laughed it off and gave a smart *** return, but now? Now it's cutting my arms. Oh, ** **! is it? I'm against the bed, "IT'S ALIVE IT'S ALIVE!" It isn't. It has my hands tied, and I'm naked- minus the face of absolute horror and fear. OH? Is it you who wields the blade? No, though I wouldn't be surprised if it were. Nathan does, he holds this dagger against my neck. Don't deserve words, does that mean I don't deserve to talk? Or don't deserve to hear? Regardless, my neck is slit, and he plays with my vocal cords. STRUM STRUM, VIBRATO! Whammy bar, buuurruuruuhhhh! The flesh of my wrists then split from the strings of sound, muscles move underneath, he pokes them and they recoil, I flex and we stare in aw. A third arm reaches from my hand, dropping a heart that it picked up along the way onto my chest, I choke on the length of said arm, I cry, but it's too late, the blood is internal. It grabs an arm, and suddenly I'm tearing myself apart. I become a fish, I strip myself of useless skin! OH? because I DON'T DESERVE WORDS. and yet I feel like I should tell everyone else words all of the time. Chatterbox! Wow, don't I talk way too much!
  WHY AM I TYPING? WHY HAVEN'T YOU APOLOGIZED. Perhaps it is I who is in the wrong, though, yes? You're with friends you're with friends you're with friends. So I should calm down, but that doesn't make feeling alone any less lonely, I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm ALONE. And I think that maybe I'm allowed to be. because it's lonely. when you've been left on opened 12 hours ago.