But all is right with me

Promises scorned in times mourned,
The raw of the four is no more as the tree that incubuses me is she,
Known by names of nurture we are but three,
But all is right with me.

The Majesty of the Fallacious Mind

The wonderment of words that dance upon def ears,
Flames of my heart once so bright now flicker in the moonlight,
Legs of a thousand journeys now only wield footprints in the past,
Solitude sort in the face of the reaper sore friendships fall,
Whilst gravity of gratitude no longer holds sway,
All that is left is Sayers of sooth who sell the mercurial truth ripped from the rose lip.

In the time of Kurt

Bovey in the lands of Velvet Hands

Bovey was her name and she danced in green rain,
She lived in lands of made of velvet hands,
Her aim was to gain the mirror of shame,
With friends such as the dame she never hid her face in vain,
Tables made of worms and eyes of knees we share such a sneeze,
The butterfly king stung by the very young of the jellyfishes bum,
With legs of feet of six and feet of lead arms that bore flowers of darkening hours the Greatin monster roamed the velvet hands,
Bovey travelled on giant grapes pulled by flying apes,
And we are all off to see the Sharman of Shalamain shimmering in silver slippers.

Let's Smile For A Wile

Lady's Without Faces

The world lives at midnight and the quantum tide is yet to turn,
Consequences without life infuriates trees of Octopuses,
I hear her scream in the silence of her mind,
My friend my beautiful friend,
She spirals on carousels of infliction,
Touching falling grounds in feathers of gold,
My friend,

Drifting with intent,
Scars grounded in allies of Rue,
Knees on high she's thrown fivers craving favours,
Blossom falls like razrs of reminders,
Engaged in games of disappointment aims,
My beautiful friend only seeks an end.

Poets and Prostitutes

Poets and prostitutes parading themselves for public pleasure push loved lips of Wilmot’s sunken ships unto thrusting hips,
Balls of ballerinas enchanting breaths of astonishment in audiences of angels,
Libertines of lovers plunder such virtues as verses,
Slippers of glass smile at Sundays of song,
Ludwing's lovers raise rainbows on rhapsodies,
Giuseppe’s gypsy’s look over geniuses of disingenuous gestures,
Whilst Ben rings out the hour of twelve and I steel grains from the sands of time.

The Octopus Tree

The Outsiders

I am gods left knuckle here my scream,
I venture into the land of golden legs watch me beam,
Nirvana is the dream screaming the purple dream,

Ladies of the night lay my head on pillows of engorged hearts,
Fields sown with a generations hope tended by society’s outcasts holds the path to illation,
Watch the sparks fly from the broken brow of the man whose repression feeds the grey machine,
Bob new the generations answer before they asked the question,
I see sanctuary in anarchy remove the fear to behold freedom,
Kiss the fantasy to reveal my realisation of false profits scream for the living as the dead don’t care any more,
Divided by aspiration conquered by promises of false dawns united by fear of never things dancing to their tune we are,
Kick the fucking door down watch the mice scatter,

I am gods left knuckle here my scream,
I venture into the land of golden legs watch me beam,
Nirvana is the dream screaming the purple dream,

Thoughts of thunder dance in immortal skies of fire emerging values of dark winters shadow on rivers of poisons flowing through her veins,
A graveyard for grandchildren is the legacy left by grey men whose blindness to the soul is only surpassed by devotion to the shinny irrelevance,
I fall from the tree of love and drown in pools of tears my wings sore no more,
Ample hands restrained by their own virtue embraced by suckling red lips under golden umbrellas scream for Januarys mind,
Legs of six run down the forlorn in hope of times ignorance forced to watch generations of anguish reeling in the darkness of their own making,
Ripped from the breast of Kings entrusted to the righteous visions of Shangri-la lay broken at feet of the self servant,
Smiling diamonds down upon us awakening loves spur,

I am gods left knuckle here my scream,
I venture into the land of golden legs watch me beam,
Nirvana is the dream screaming the purple dream.

Broken

Shop Girl

Quietly she strides through my thoughts,
Her lips silent with intent,
Desire dances on a cloud,
She moves as if the wind guided her it's self,
Hot breath in a cold room betrays,
Is it me or is it true