Some old, still a new fool

Reply Wed 7 Apr, 2010 09:51 am
(I warn you these are not at all helpful or hopeful, wait till each song is finished till you move onto the next part, re-read or re-listen until you are finished with each, please dont rush) (edit; some of the songs dont work, you might be better off not listening)

(i have no fixed term on this one, hence no song)


Head heavy of gauze.
Not warm no drool
Coffee bitter and rather unpleasant,
but I drink just to have something to regret fondly
It is a something in a mindless menagerie taste
Sometime I call it a break just to sanctify minute moment,
Jitters brace.
Still bad taste.
The belief that time is happying and that I am with it,
going by
Which I am not,
staying for a while
Forced to smile
Is in moderation really good for you?
I am not so much stuck as frozen in muddy earth
Deep but not drowning, I am able to sip air
Even the breath less with the left less,
Sugar on scar
Off milk down the sink
Half a tee-spoon of that sweetner
Fear of fat but not lazy fear
Awake wary not even a yawn on the hills
The drink is supposed,
to make up for this blindness
Knowing that I always get up to late
For a date not made and no appointment forsake
No where to be but resting in place
Have lost meditation if it can be found?
Hot cup will make up for it
No insipiration to dance,
Have taken to running in that nowhere place
Steep to taste.
Think that by doing the work I can find the break
Of self regime,
not even a game of you.
For there is no other than mine time out,
Time to be you to soon.
Time to sip the brew.
Time to break in two.
(this one could be alot better i know it)
YouTube - Cat Stevens - Father and Son Original

(I seem to be a me)(growing old)
I seem to be with purpose
I cant remember what at this minute
But with purpose unremembered
I quarrel some
With my angel, with my son
I figure i have grown some
They finger a so long
And I am struck non recollection
Relative fraction
Turned into faction
I have grown I say
To my son unbegun
Father to thyself
I have become one
A fatherless son
I am birthed by my one
Today I sung
O floss where the new parent
In and of me
Of a my
Of a no more we
Just a little sad me
Cleaning my teeth.
(These were all written on the same morning and are not finished, i will go through them now and try to put something together for your pleasuable despair)

I knew this boy once, shame he never knew me, i will thank God for him that he is no longer with us, some people are not built for this world;YouTube - The Pretenders - Kid


To sin against the know all voice,
would be a crime,
your justice would have to be paid.
God at least has a smile,
not a dripping switch-blade.
Close your eyes.
Of choice clouded cold,
By warmth of lies being told.


Schizophrenic boy. Or. Thick wool.

Cardigan wrapped, Tool.
God is silence, the only thing He can be once woven
Silence to world that took a word to open it bathe.
Condition, rinse, repeat condition.
Worlds words are the razors incline.
Let the blood flow expose the lies told.
'Kiss it, kiss it, be the wounds of the old'
Any kiss to never decline
Open yourself up by your sway, waits the entire world.
No one would believe if i were to be so bold.
You are a lie, you are a fake, you will die.
Make it last time pass,
Make it worth your second class caste.

YouTube - The Pretenders - I Go to Sleep (with lyrics)
Schizo Boy
Cardigan wrapped warp, able to be dressed today,
Not naked not cutting in flesh to chase away,
Thoughts just judgements pronounced decay
Always at the front never a death flirt delayed.
Comfort in a God with out his words in play.
Spat at spit on dragged through the streets,
Always beyond er, to far gone to be reached.
The boy holds up able to stand and preach.
Today is good he has the miracle of speech.
Dressed today he needs not to shrink,
Fit to speak, not be told words to think.

Words thats all they are right?

You are the at the end of living
The medication has worked, now is alone.

Now is lonely.

But now does not last forever right?


YouTube - Cyndi Lauper Rain on me
Boy reaching breakfast

Patience he has once been promised
He is still waiting
He is awake but pretends to not be
Cool blankets side pressed tight between its sighs
'Today is the day you are going to die'
"Not before you have shown me to fly"
You promised, you lied dear hate
They know when you are awake
And why the need for the prophesied
You see this boy is a prophet proven
He knows how everything is going to end
In bigger bangs, in tears and crimes.
He does not know how anything can start
'Show them why you cant be loved.'
"Whispers the joke with out a laugh",
Inside stages and empty seats
Cold this morning, this way he cant rise.
The pillows damp,
He does not know how to lie
But he was not made to freeze
He is made to stoke the fire
His memory scalds him
Blisters he can deal with
But not the boiling oil of presence
'Kiss it, kiss it, the flame will not hurt'
"You got me with that line."
The cigarette had indeed felt of relief
Trying to reach the centre through brief flesh
Not all the scars are made with cold steel.
But covered scars are frozen.
How he knows he is alive, is not his guess
So he does not put stock in guess work
He just tries to close once more upon a world
By shutting down eyelids and lash not built for rest.
"You once could not stop crying" he yells at his self
Down into the pillow so will not be overheard.
Words felt by ears are not the real test of the syllable.
'Cry baby, cry baby, weak little mess'
"I am not your child, i will be a man soon"
He dresses in the ignorances,
That he cant still be made infant.
He wears wools that itch and boots that pinch.
Turns up the radio that has never been ceased
Peels a black banana eats half an inch,
He sits down again just to catch his breath
His sitting room is a mess.
'Nine more seconds before your death'
"Thanks for the heads up fuk up"
His t.v needs a clean, he switches it on instead.
The radio plays another sad song in the background.
He is tired of listening and not singing.
He scans the news for the lost and the wrong.
They are unavoidable these days.
Idly picking another scab,
"Never been stabbed."
He chances one, his own, undefending thought.
He coughs a laugh and pain grabs for his chest
'Look at me when I tell you you're nothing left'
"If that's what you look like no wonder your wife left you."
Punishment is meant to correct,
but definace is meant for bigger things.
He hears himself crying but only at that distance,
He comes close to waving goodbye to sighs
But not near enough to the finishing line.
The silence of God is the only thing he trusts,
And yet he is terrifed of both
He knows no different.

Thought i ought try to raise the spirits a little, here you are.

YouTube - "Brass in Pocket" - **The Pretenders**Smile
Well maybe a little hope.
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