She's fallen from the skies
underneath leaves of green,
Angels cry and will abide
their lost & love goes unseen.
The grey covers over the blue
and down lashes rain and dew,
Skin, teeth, flashing white
will be lost from the light to night.
She won't be buried in a tomb,
but where flowers grow and bloom.
This is going to be a stormy midnight,
as her soul lifts and out of sight.

"All words,
Mother's last
Jesus in Christ,
take the time
for this rhyme"

He suffered for days,
for me its been decades,

How has being whipped,
and enslaved
and being hang,
for 3 days been horribly created
I could have endured that.

I won't wash off my father's
like what was of Jesus's
I was of our family's tree,
just another of the strangling,
Roped of the back yard gum-tree's

Blood is of a reptilic,
Frogs in the swamp,
being caught by kids,
and being splat to death,

Religion is not torturous,
ask the ones on the streets,
and the army of the fleet,
controlled is sacrilegious.

Ask the home-less girls,
who suffered more worse,
just true of their turf
and our minds still burst.

I've always been this alone,
but with this family,
I feel so much less alone,
I feel I'm being heard.
I've been stitched and sowed
into an average t-shirt,
plain with calls alone,
I've never painfully,
and felt a suddenly
burst of life,
raindrops,
discolor,
as the rain sets,
puddles.....

There's a constant sound of a crack,
Naturist sound as cards go snap,
as poisonous sounds
it doesn't goes down so well.
The moles from the grounds
comes up to a beaten map.
The eyes that do swell,
leads to fallen twill bells,
After the midnight hour,
and the beaten of flour.
Prostitution sells
but never-does-so-well,
and the lacking of the tinging
commercialism of tills......
Leads us down a path,
of targeting down a wraith,
sounds of ghosts,
our previous hosts,
Tides between the lost
A cast before dye bleeding.
Taunting of our breathing,
Tuiation of the black seedling,
or smelt the way its rotten?
There's nothing more to be said.
Have you never seen red seaweed?
Or smelt upon the way its worsens "death?"

When they come with a-plenty,
there an  inch of door metal
and fittings can't be smashed through,
and windows are smash proof
like the house of a detective's.
Its quite the bit of irony.
By the time they get in,
I'll be floating to the ceiling
with a *******.
I'll answer to my crimes,
my own Constantine way.

Freezing is the white bloom,
been trapped in this room.
with barely a day sober,
since my days were over.
I entered hell from day one,
of entering this clinical cell
I'll ask for my scattered remains
that never had anything to gain
to be here till bulldozer day.

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

A good day, spread out basket of goods,
which the curious ants wish to snoop.
By the river with clapping hands aplenty,
Flawless came opportunism dented
A lie of forked tongues shook timber wood.
White unseen kills wooden foundations.