I Dont like Wednesdays

I Don’t Like Wednesdays

Days are set in limbo
To which I will explode,
These times I’ve grown to hate
With Life falling on this date,
Clocks have all the power
Striking on doomed hours,
Wilting bodies until raw
Curling naked in a ball,
Drowning in self sweat
Flooding rooms with regret,
Please wake me up on the bell
When the days are not in hell.

For no man

When’s there’s no immediate danger
Worry people worry about time,
Haunted by the past and future
By a spectre of the present,
In the now, time doesn’t exist
Until you ask its whereabouts
And trace its movements,
Once spotted it’s hidden
Amongst the angst and worry,
And then just like that it’s gone,

Is half a second
Worth the fret of not living,
To die waiting
For the next half second
To be fruitful,
Until finally it mounts up
To a lifetime of looking back,
Regrets,
And just death to look forward to.

White light

I have no ideas
Only thoughts that pass through me in seconds,
Do I choose to embrace the emotions this brings,
Or ignore the creativity
And the imagination buried deep inside
That rises to my consciousness
In that split second,
The risk is in the exploration
Of this time period,
To delve in the dark,
Step foot in my minds blindspot
And view the games it plays
When I’m not looking.
Without this I am dull
A blank canvas of regret,
So I explore
And take the chance everytime
That reality will pull me back.

Parachutes

I feel sad and I cry
I cry because I lie
I lie to calm the day
Smile the hours away
But Deep inside I hide.
Real grief not lame belief
Brings relief,
A chance to be real
With how I feel
That comes with sadness
An emotional mess
Which comes naturally to me,
I can’t fake happy
I try but not really
I pretend to smile
But it goes on awhile
And becomes lazy
A Face of a crazy,
So I stay the side of sad
I know it sounds mad
But it’s all I know
To help me grow
So at least i can blend
And try and make a friend.

Toleration

Toleration

‘Not more words from prophet of doom
Where does this soul find the room?’
-‘Its true I write the bad I’ve felt
Dark places I’ve been, edges I’ve knelt
-‘Inside their head those words of pain
What do they ever hope to gain?’
-‘An outlet I use, a voice to spread
Of all the things I wished I said’
-‘I bet they always need help and reliance
Bringing people down with their awkward silence’
-‘I feel the tensions, sense the sound
Its harder sometimes when I’m around’
-We’ve all had issue’s, we just don’t tell
Why do they have to sulk and dwell’
-‘I’m affected worse it’s my mind you see
Stick around I’m actually quite funny’
-‘Truth is I don’t understand or relate
Surely writing this will seal their fate’
-‘I want to feel joy and that’s the key
Depressions easy to feel but harder to see’
-‘Just carry on, life’s way too short
We all suffer, just don’t give it a thought’
-‘I suffer alone, head in my hand
The reasons why I don’t understand’

Fallen

When sat alone
With the weight of blood
Panicked in solitude
Restricted from external wounds
Do we cry,
Or lie down upon the sympathy?
Voicing the same tale
To heighten ears
Imagining on empathic fears
Which soon dies
From curious eyes.
The scars of eternity sparks interest
To unknown generations
Seeking if the whispers are truth.
They are, if not worse,
Bones were cracked
Shock crushed the breath,
The story revealed forever wrapped in light
Never disclosing
How close we were to death.

Amputated

A finger cut loose
Separated from the Dominant hand
Leaving others broken and fractured,
A poorly sight of Deformed appendages left limp and tragic,
Is this fate?
Trying to manipulate my train of thinking
A threat carried out
To stop the written hand
Producing my verses of alternatives
Converting black into grey,
Am I Getting to close
To warrant a mystical warning,
A pointed finger cursing mine
Forcing me to throw down tools
Over The edge of damnation,
What next my eyes, My mind,
Should I stop banging my words
Into an order of verse
That wakes the sleeping baby of chaos.

No these thoughts exist Because we exist,
I will take my Sacrifice
And keep bringing forth
The fantasy of my world
Blending thinly into theirs,
By believing is creating,
Giving thoughts a substance
To make nightmares whole,
The warning I will heed
But it proves that I would bleed
To thrive in the unknown,
Unlock doors to interpretations
And bring some kind of order
To the underlying turmoil.

Destructible

I have no words
I am an empty Figure
Dried up and weathered,
Discarded and thrown aside,
By my own mind
And compulsions.
Blood is my ink,
And Ink survives in the youth,
The fountain still produced
Though the source runs dry,
Just dust and bone
Laying in the worn paths
Where creativity and life
Flows no more.

Lost

To create an illusion
You have to want to believe
In the story of fabrication,
Feel the emotional pull
Of the alternate reality
To keep your feet on hollow ground.

A legacy is made
Born of life and imagination,
A Kingdom created
By a mind so wonderful
And woeful,
No balance could be made.

Here we shall live forever,
In this sometime reality,
Until thy shadow is cast
Along the red sky,

Then we shall know
The horizon of truth And time,
Is calling the soul to fly,
To walk towards the light,
To Dive into the sea,
And whisper goodbye.

Is This The Real Life.

Seclusion disturbs the stages,
The erratic plates of the mind,
Causing Eruptions of static rages
Shouting off, blinkered and blind,

Craters form at the bottom of the sea
Bottomless holes, cold and deep,
Lying mystic as a human subconscious,
Under a rock, where secrets seep

Only Sudden Trauma unlocks it secrets,
Forever Untouched, hidden and unseen,
Once opened be prepared for preservation,
For trauma reveals itself, only In screams

Exposure plays tricks with stories of the dead,
Condemning the closest people at heart,
Ripping family memories to distorted shreds,
And splits a once calm sanity apart.

The equator to madness Is very fine,
Leading uncertainty on a turbulent dance,
Stretching facts to fit the signs,
That chaos is coming, given the chance.

Nightmares are worse, when hells awoken,
Reacting evil, to noise and to light,
People pray such words are never spoken,
And that eyes stay shut, for a restful still night.

Lies become real, in blackness of dreams,
People of reality will watch and weep,
As their love one, trembles, stirs, and screams,
From the illusion its facing, inside their dark sleep.