When those
Who play
With the pattern
Of Life
It is Only
The honest
And the poor
That Pay
The Price

Mommy
Yes baby
Could you
Tell that man in America
To give me back my legs
Could you tell him
Whatever i did
I'm sorry
I promise
Never to do it again
Sob

My eyes tell me
You look beautiful
But my mind
Insists
On knowing
What lays beneath
The chemicals
That are hanging on your skin

Strange world
Where people believe
That Original Sin
Is Not
Wilful Ignorance

You let them in
You opened your Door Wide
Because what they say
How they say it
The moves That they make
That Convince You They are Friends
As they Slowly **** you Dry
Of Everything That is You
In Your Desperate need
To have Friends
And Now You pay the Price
Always thinking about Their Wellbeing
As yours
Slowly Decays

It is said
Your Only as Wise
As Your Wilful Ignorance
Allows You To Be

I'm
One of those People
That Pretend I'm convincing
My mind
To fully Commit While
My mind Remains Confused
For My mind
Doesn't Understand Pretend
For at the end of the day
People Say
There are Question's
That Must  be Asked
Who runs your body
Is it not Your brain
And who Runs your brain
Is it not Your Mind
And Who Runs your Mind
Is it Not You

Some people Say
Unconsciously
To them self's
I can only Grow
In My
Self imposed  
Invironment  
In My
Wilfully Compressed  
Perceptions  
In the Scrub lands  
Of My  
Self Deceit  
Its the Only way I know  
Of Avoiding  
The Price  
The Psychological Pain
Of My Potential Growth  
Of Leaving  
All that I'm used to  
All that I've Ever known
Behind

It is When writes Anything
Be it For a living
For pleasure Or Therapy
One does Not Necessarily Believe
What one has Written
But For Those Who's Sanity
Rests with the Pen
One Must

Life they say
is just a roll of the dice
which depends on fate
that listens
to every word
you don't say

When your friends
do not become
your family
then they are not
your friends

Are you looking
for something
in someone
but only feeling the need
are you are somewhere
near the border
where there are signs
that you should read

Do you sometimes
wake up screaming
knowing
it is still there
like razor wire
coiled around
your inner thoughts
slowly shredding
the empathy that you court
as it whispers
the pious words
that you blindly repeat
to the hope
that still believes
that your intent
will set you free
from the coils
that hold your inner thoughts
in a place
that should not be

Can you hear them
as they slide
through the cracks
of your  thoughts
demanding you take
the first steps
on this road
you have yet
to regret

Do your
whisperings
of all
your yesterdays
echo
in your ears
as the present
quietly weeps
with the one
you hold
when you sleep

Would one
be willing
to give up
ones humanity
for the children
to regain
theirs

You have down syndrome  
and downing street
guess where humanity
Sleeps

Could you not feel    
something for someone
yet not see it
for what it really is
eventually
but often too late
to reinstate
that feeling
that should have kept you
Awake

It is
the skeletal hand
of your conscious
that rests
upon your shoulder
explaining
to the mask
that you wear
it is time
to cross
your border

A Spartacus is needed
within the American system
to show the Romans
in Washington
that all roads
should lead to freedom

The smoke
that comes
from your car
could that not be classed
as passive smoking
or the chemicals
you spread around
your house
could that not effect
your children’s breathing
or the chemicals in your fridge
that you feed
to your kids
could that not effect
their thinking
so could you please explain
why you complain
about something
that has no meaning

Are you missing
a firewall
that line of defence
that warns you
of the psychological intent
of the Trojan
that wants
To be your friend

It is not the colour
of the skin
that you live in
or even where
you are born
it is
the colour
of your thoughts
that define
your state of mind
in a world
where thoughts
are becoming
colour blind

It is only the basics
that are required
to understand
the whys

Are you happy
in how you're growing
within the body
that you see
in the reflection
of your perception
that brings you
to your knees
when the chemicals
and cutting
do nothing
but please
your broken belief
that only the outside
really exists

Why should you
feel
so embarrassed
when other people
can see
that you
do not fit
into the shape
that they
in their ignorance
believe
you should be

How can we say
we live a life
when our intent
scrapes clean
our honest pride
to leave
our morals
nowhere to hide
but within
the comfortable arms
of denial

The rich
may lose a little
but they will still
be rich
the poor
will lose nothing
for they will still
be poor
but for you
who call yourself
middle class
it shall be you
we will  meet
on the streets
and in the parks
with your cardboard blanket
looking for a place
that's warm
while your children
start over again
clawing back
all that you have lost
all because
you put your trust
into the ballot box
of hope

Do your dreams
keep running
is your reality
just slumming
in the valley of illusions
are you aware

You assume
there are no gaps
in your thinking
you believe
you have a continues line
but when you are pushed
on your common sense thinking
you break down
and scream
like a child

Light
has no meaning
when it only shines
in the dark

It is only when
you have cancer
in your thoughts
can you be called
a walking corpse
one who walks the lands
of fractured dreams
looking for
a reflection
to please

To annualize
what you vocalize
you must first
socialize
with what you think

Not many people
survive
when they cross the line
to a different frame
of mind

It is
the art
within your soul
that defines
your state of mind
when you acquire
the art
of an open mind

When logic
doesn't understand
reason
feelings
do not exist

Is it logical
to have feelings
with no meaning
to what you are thinking

Truth cannot be destroyed
only hidden
behind corrupted doors
forced
into a twisted corner
battered and beaten
hanging in chains
and there
it still remains
hidden
by denials wish
that this
skeletal abomination
of truth
should never be allowed
to speak
to those who seek
the reasons why
we
our children
have been
denied

Why do you need
to see
what's behind the door
are the words
I love you
not enough
any more
why do you insist
on looking
behind the scenes
when you know
what you will find
will not be me
yet you hope and pray
that I will change
while wishful thinking
becomes your cage
as you lay
on your barren bed of despair
believing
one day
I will care

You were not expecting
the feeling to be here
you could not believe
as you gazed
across the space
that separates you
from the place
where the one
you hold in your dreams
waits to be united
with the half
they have never seen

Is it not
the silence
in the night
that you dread
in that place
where your mind
begins to drift
into things
left unsaid

When your mind
has been shattered
every shard
must be found
among the ruins
of your broken heart
within
these decaying thoughts
with denial
beyond belief
that you knew the price
you would pay
when you walked this way

What I am
is who I am            
and what I am
is ME

She never said
she could love
but she would stay
for a while
and in that time
when she bedded
your spine
your thoughts
did nothing
but whine

Psychology
is nothing
but a flawed prophecy
of what you might do
depending on your mood

It is when the door
starts to slowly open
within
our minds eye
it is then
with growing fear
we will have
to decide
will we hide
within
our house of cards
with our belief
of denial
that our denial
will last
or will the wave
of our imprisoned feelings                            
pass us
through the door
to a place
all our life
we have tried
to ignore

Are we not
all halfbreeds
from races unknown
the only species
that has survived
the troubles and strife
in centuries gone by
from a patchwork
of broken memories
and forbidden
archaeology
we will
grow

Hope
like any other
psychological drug
taken
when it should not be used
brings a thin skin of happiness
that you assume
runs deep
as despair
claws its way up
from your abyss
to lay claim
to the hope
that you wished

It is when
one starts to slide
does one start
to change
where ones lack of empathy
begins to feed
on the feelings
that should be making
one weep

Hope is like
a flash in a pan
looks pretty
feels warm
but not for long