ACT XXV

DEATH
The blinded child before me!
He sees all HE needs to SEE!
The truth face of mother earth
Burnt out and fucked.

Enough is enough!
The tongue captures before the mouth fades
Fades memories wanted before those early graves
We’re all soldiers and we’re all stars
Awaiting someone to align with ours.

Myself, A home, A tomb –
Controlled by no-one, 
except by that beautiful brunette,
staring from across the room.

Trapped with the fake, needless –
aberrations, of my mind,
I am a loser shines a little bit but 
at least it doesn’t seem to rhyme.

The reflections from the industrial sink –
The catch of materials, gripped by the tongues.
The less you know the better –
How can one ideology be so wrong.

III
The repeating streets.
Strained cigar humidity.
Bad attitudes.
An excuse for new lingo.
Natural selection.
The only selection we can’t control.
The only selection which has no hatred – 
toward sex, race and religion is the new rock’n’roll
Yeah, I don’t really believe in God.
One could say I don’t believe in being reborn.
I believe you can, and you will.

©HT

ACT XXIV

Deaths Phone-call

Call me if you die.

The revved up memories of wars –
between the simplified eyes.

My telephone rings hello.
But, its clutching at meaningly rusty shadows.

Those revved up memories of wars –
compared to being between your thighs

– were nothing.

©HT

ACT XXI

I
A fox going in and out of my feet,
the children on the street,
Dancing to their own beat,
I thought I knew what I was looking for
But maybe I don’t know, at least not anymore .

Those attached terrace houses,
The shady brick work,
You know the kind –
That might make you wanna move,
Move somewhere down south,
Where all the brick work is fine.

II
I knew our eyes felt something more than intimate from their brief encounter,
across the hazed floor. If I could only speak what I wanted.

I wouldn’t have to rely on that.

III
As I look upon these smudged canvas skies,
Watching them turn from azure blue to the welcoming monochrome,
I cant help but think; there has to to be something greater than –
The energy viaducts which suck the life from the earth –
The unlimited, ultimate TV and data packages.
Its hard to believe that people would rather stop to look at their phones –
then to look the world pass them by.
Trapped within their realm of fake reality – personal totalitarianism.

SIDE NOTE:
I have recently been quite busy. I am looking toward working with musicians and kick-starting my own solo poetry songwriting career, when I’ve finished my setlist. I’m currently focusing on my writing and poetry, though I’ve not much new work which I feel needs to be uploaded straight to my website. (as of the minute) Therefore taking a little break (with sporadic intervals of uploads) and will begin uploading work, when I have heard back from various poetry sites/magazines which, I have submitted work to. Hopefully, if all goes well, you will see the poetry I have sent in through their sites/magazines. IF NOT, I will be uploading them myself, as soon as I have results.

©HT

ACT XIX

It’s one of those I guess. Another sleepless night, adding into my endless tally chart of sleepless nights. I should begin a review channel and compare each night in terms of productivity or brought on depression from exhaustion which they’d all score pretty high so you’d be indulging in a few repeats.

Either-way. I’ve stared at my Stratocaster many nights in a row now. Unable to pick it up (ignoring today) due to being unmotivated. What a goddamn curse for somebody like myself.
Ones mind has drawn a blank. Hilarious in a sense. Maybe it’s due to some well needed rest or complete and utter incompetence and laziness.

I fancy a goddamn beer but I best neck a few glasses of water.

“in other news” (as heard by the cheesiest male news-anchor voice in my head)
I have acquired a new job – nothing fancy. The ye olde reacquiring role of a bartender who is in way over his head due to his lack of cocktail ability. Can life be any easier for me to complain at.

Quite Possibly.

ACT XVII

Still Love

I’ve spent many nights away from her
I have tarnished all my thoughts.
We asked for the revolution. 
But, we were left with the war.
We looked in one another’s eyes –

and, the love still roared.

I picture you beside me still,
though I try to hide the proof.
You enquired about religion,
when I asked for the truth.
Then we fell – sat upon these floors
And I was still much surer then –

That the love of ours still roared.

© HT

ACT XV

I
Waiting for the alarm clock,
To wake me from a sleepless night.
Untouched gravel outside,
Awaiting the restless feet of the passerby.
Where are you – when I’m waiting?

II
I don’t know who I am –
I don’t know what I am for
But these unknown pleasures –
these unknown thoughts want more.
And I’m not too sure –
I’m what they’re looking for.

My windowsill is black –
My life could just be a gas –
All I see –
And All I do don’t satisfy.
Are these thoughts I’m feeling –
Part of I.

The echo voices are near –
From somewhere close to here
But these unknown pleasures –
These unknown thoughts they aren’t mine.
And I’m not too sure –
What keeps me up at night.

Unknown pleasures,
This unknown world,
Those unknown thoughts –
Which nobody knows.
These unknown pleasure,
These unknown thoughts are mine.

III
We shared a kiss upon 
A slip stream of bliss.
I’m sure everybody’s heard of this 
You caught me in-between all your wit.

You got me so high
How’d you expect me to climb back down.
I’m sure I am able to cope
Without you your soul around.

In that back catalogue
Of this sunny afternoon.
I’m having to get lit
To remain in the mood.

And, Isn’t it funny what we’ll do
Just to bite one another lips.
To the sound of somebody else’s tune.

© HT

ACT XII

I
I might of skipped the part when you said you loved me
Jumping in and out of all the those jokes
I always try to think about you nicely,
But, I haven’t any thoughts of you with clothes.
You told me it would be forever
I told you, it’s the way it goes
Don’t try and think of me tonight girl
Cos in them thoughts you’ll be all alone.

II
There was an old Elvis impersonator,
who barely fit the clothes,
the lenses of his shades broken,
and his voice not the proper tone.

There was a couple who were to be married,
but hadn’t spoke a word,
eyes facing opposite sides,
neither where they preferred. 

I thought about you in the candlelight,
as the sun eclipsed my moon,
I waltz all through the night,
even on my own.

You made me more than happy,
catching kisses you had blown,
as I see the world from sidelines,
From our cement brick home.

© HT