Set Me Free

Obeah man,
Witch doctor,
Daughters of Earth Mother,
Come to me,
In mind
In soul,
And set my chained soul
Free.

Free from morality,
The man built
Fortress of fear
And lies.

Set me free!!

Never

Honesty.
Honestly?
Reality.
Really?
Truth.
Truly?
No.
Never!

Exquisite Blood

Exquisite blood,
Drip,
Drop
On the black and white
Tiles
Of the room.

Red,
Crimson,
Scarlet blood,
Mine own
Departs me.

Then what?
Then what shall I do?
The floor,
Red, white and black,
Mine own colours.

Close the wound
With my mind,
With my soul,
With my ......
Exquisite blood.

Be

All it takes
Is a pen
And a sheet
Of paper
To tap
My reservoir
Of humanity,
Of philosophy,
Of reality,
Of logic,
Of hope.

Let my words
Be read,
Be heard,
Be felt,
Be understood.

Poked Pizza

Poked crust of Pizza
With my green pen,
Then realized
The stupidity of it all.

An Oddity

An oddity
All on it's own.
The simple fact
That I was a familiar face.
A familiar face.
That is
Why I appropriated
A human
To share my meal
Of cold cheese pizza
And orange soda.
An oddity,
Indeed.

Numb

Huuuu ha
Vocalizing
Everything I ever wanted
To say,
But was too afraid to say
Because the world would hate me.

But why do I care?
Can their thoughts rip me apart?
My limbs pulled from
Their sockets
By the ferocity
Of their thoughts.

What has become of me?
What has become of my
Looking at other people's lives
And wanting it?
Why
Does it make them happy
And leaves me numb?

I'm now numb.
My brain a vacuum.
The image of empty space
Between my ears
Comes to mind.
Where is my passion?

Where Are The Words

Where are the words?
The words that were with me
When I hunched over my desk
In classrooms within which
I learned to stand alone.

Where are the words
That flowed through my mind
At the speed of thought,
Stimulating said mind
Into a state of imagination?

I can't seem to find
Those words
That said I was sad
Or mad
Or justifiably confused
By..
By...
By everything.

Where are the words.

Reality Has No Colour

Faces carved from
Rock granite.

Rats as big
As a man's hand
With feet so nimble
The can pick locks
In seconds.

Mosaics,
Once the colour of life
At birth
Filled with hope
And anticipation for the unknown,
But now,
They look grimly out,
Reflecting the faces it sees.
Faces gray
With fatigue,
With nothingness,
Except the program
That they have chosen
To follow.

Colours, man,
Where are the colours?
Right, left, straight ahead,
Blue, black and other somber colours
Swallow me whole.
But wait,
Could it be
That it is my eyes
That dare to deceive me?

Could it be that
Somewhere between
My eyes and brain,
The colours of life
Have seeped away?
Or is it just that
Reality has no colour?

I Ponder

I ponder
On days
When the wind blows
Cooling me,
Giving me relief
From the loving sun.

I ponder
Over life,
What life is meant to be,
What it has in store for me.
And I ponder,
And I ponder,
And I ponder.

Then nothing.
All I can think of
Is not to ponder about it.
Let it happen,
Let it wash over me
Like a blue and white wave.

A wave that crashes
Over me
Knocking loose
All the doubt and fear
Leaving me with childish glee.

A glee
Stored away
In the tomb
Of my childhood.
A childhood to be remembered,
Cherished,
And forgotten once more.

So what
Is the meaning of life?
The all important question.
Frankly, it's a question
I will eventually answer.

The Singer

The room is dark,
As dark as a moonless night,
Then the saxophone plays.
The sound is soft, sweet
Entering one ear
And touches the soul
Leaving through the next ear.

The sax's notes touch
The four walls of the room.
Nothing else can be heard.
Then a woman sings,
Her voice intertwined with the sax
Weaving a tale that relates to me
Then the woman stops,
The lights are turned on,
The drums start,
The guitar plays
And the rhythm flows through the room.

Everyone rises
And dances
As the singer half sings
And half yells the song.
All the sorrow of before
Is left behind.
A new feeling takes over
The feeling of happiness
Portrayed in the song.
My song.