Tuesday, 4 January 2011

scrap (December 2010)

This isn’t born knowledge
You have to cultivate it
Im bound to
Its not about paper but that’s a tool to trace it
Blood for blood
Mixed up interrelated
The past and the future live in the present
That’s the basics the bare bones the fundamentals
Drunken master and asetics warring for the temple
The dervish whirls and the pious man sits
But is there to catch me when I sleep
I step too far and just trip
So I’m falling clutching at straws
Nauseous in a crowd rushing for the doors
So much noise could be cusses or applause
I crave silence
Just now I lusted more
The hunger for more put the grind in m jaw
Now outlined with a beard that makes my features obscure
Stole the holy water and drank it
Im filthy and pure
Excommunicated Excavating the raw
Uncut long untouched
As yet unspoilt truth
That energises like the suns rush
Walk with me
That takes some trust
Im scared of the succubus who could end my world with just one touch
Not dumb
Still seen men lose it all to a dumb rut
Or a thousand dumb drinks
Certain people of mine I look in their eye and just sink
All I see is a busted flush
Opportunity spent
Never saw the gaps in the rink and kept skating
Red face never facing up to responsibility
Stuck to juvenile ideals boxed in by invisible walls they never bust through
Im trying to evade that fate and talk truths to touch you
No crown is rustproof

No comments: