Bounded Creation

Ginsberg, Dylan and Rolling Stones

Whizz past my mind

Everyone of them saying something

Different, something new.

They're all of their own.

Weird hair is a common feature 

Of big shots.

I saw Dylan on stage once,

Blew my head off my body

Barked and howled and wailed

It was something incredible.

I put a record on,

Every time there's a new favourite.

I read a few poems, 

Wrote a few poems,

Compared a few poems,

Considered a few poems,

Poems oh poems 

music oh music,

You are but a small part 

Of everything.

I put on another song by 

The Rolling Stones,

Their music was bound to the disc

That revolved in the CD player

Or on the turntable at 33rpm.

The poets words are forever

Bound to their pages.

Human minds are forever bound

To their rotting skulls.

Our bodies are forever bound

To the earth.

Everything oh everything

You are bound to become nothing.

Death oh death

You shall die by your own hands.

Atomic Unions

His words became an

apologetic love letter

to lady life. He requested to her if

sir Death could come next Friday

He felt that Wednesday was too soon for the gallows.

His face did reek of fear
and his eyes did tremble with
feelings of the unjustifiable sins.

He went on to speak to me of things of the cosmos.

He said that perfect union of the particles

inside the atom is like that of the perfect union 

between man and woman

between man and rights 

between man and God.

To break such a perfect union will result

in a hellish explosion of fire

despair

endless sorrow

bitter sadness and

everlasting regrets.

A terrifying ground trembling blast

that incinerates all hope

all joy

all happiness

all comfort 

all Jews, Gentiles and

all nations

as a whole.

Indeed, the whole world shall

feel the breaking of these bonds

and shall fall because of it.

Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope perfect hope to those who hold union with God

and who keep close.

College Dorms

Slandered on the juvenile philosophy of candle lit promises

We stagger our moments.

I struck my head on the idea and was left concussed.

The future is dimmed with Techno beats, 

The thump and pound of a good night out,

To drown concerns with one more shot

Then to wake up with another.

"Parade the streets and expose yourself

Just to show that you're still alive".

As I squinted through the mist and fumes 

Of lost minds in the collage dorms 

I per chanced to see you.

A soul of glass among the oceans,

You sank right to the bottom.

You were being drowned by the "post modern"

Ideas of chance, Dada art, and low energy lightbulbs

Which give people false hopes of a tomorrow 

Worth what they pay and labour for.

The room was too full of 

pictures and posters  

Of naked idolised pop stars 

To even breath. 

Hearing the students talk of their late night

Activities was both perplexing and deafening.

Speaking of how they.... and did.... and saw....

I could hear no more.

There is no such thing as

An innocent victim

Of death.

Life is living proof of this.

Our Faince

Life is given a different light

when you're out on a date

with death. 

Dressed in her crimson red frock 

and jewels, 

she approaches.

She flirts with you 

and cools you with her deepening eyes.

Her cheeks are delicate and dainty,

she blushes when you speak

of her works and 

accomplishments.

She reaches out to hold

and caress your cooling hands.

Her soft voice beacons you towards

her welcoming, and unavoidable, 

embrace.

She showed me the

ring that I was wearing on 

my finger, and showed that

she was wearing the same.

 We were pledged to be married 

The very next day.

Death is our faince,

The wedding day is set.

It's life, and life only- VI

I rarely considered the idea that I was wrong,
Although in hindsight, I doubt I was ever right,
Whether I do it in poem, reason or song
I wish to rectify myself in your loving sight.
For I have come to realise that
If it's me you begin to despise,
Then I have nothing good to show of any part of me.
For you were the fairest of me,
And I, the worst of myself

Beyond a Promise (goes without saying)

Does the sun promise the

Light of day?

No,

It's planned out that way.

It can't do otherwise,

It's what it does,

Has no say.

Does time promise it's stroll?

Promise the shadows

On dails its roll?

No,

And again I say.

Does Earth promise life's

Rivers to flow?

Sweep away all

Things men know?

To destroy all things

That were ever dear

To destroy all memory and

The knowledge of knowing?

Tear down every reason given

In order to make sense

Of us in the living

In the dying

In the existing

In the crying

In the loving

In the hatred

In the confused and the mixed up

And out of shape sculpture 

That we once knew as ourselves?

No.

Life's rivers takes

All things away,

Even knowledge of

Living.

It's worked out that way.

Voids

If the stars above had a sense of time

Passing like rivers,

Would they still shine?

Nothing but voids to fear,

Nothing but voids to fear.

Oh, I feel times rivers

And gaze into voids,

And I tremble.

Wild Dog

It's an obvious predicerment when you go out

To clear your head but get chaced by wild minds.

Lost minds of indirect thought and reason.

In the end,

Minds are what make people,

And most people are crazy, wild, confused, desperate, lacking,

Savage, moaning, begging, uncooperative.

Riding away from dogs chasing me

Trying to snap at me and bring me down from my higher place.

They can't reason, nothin to reason about,

What is reason?

"That man is higher up than me,

Drag him down".

That is the reasoning,

Read any history book,

It's all true.

But who am I to speak?

Is my mind not also lost,

Trying to make sense of thought and reason?

Am I not dragging you down too?

I too have a crazy, wild, confused, desperate, lacking,

Savage, moaning, begging, uncooperative mind.

I'm just another wild dog.