The master of disguise never wears a costume
Just hides the sides of his mind,
The myth becomes alive
To the right side of the brain,
It makes us dance to silence
Create with nothing
And paint colours to the sky,
When it takes over
Overcoming the left distant side
You will strive for the feeling
To last forever,
Never wanting to ever let go,
This is the only way
To move forward and evolve.
The view is amazing from here
The calm and the peace
I wonder if this is how it feels
When the body ends its lease
I see some people below me
A muddle of colourless shapes
I hope they leave soon
I’ll ignore them while I wait
Now I can hear pure song
Dizzyness as the birds sing
Yes this will be my last memory
Slowly as I swing.
Free hand to write
On the edge of polite
To the mind and soul
Moods high or low
Circling the pain
That keeps me sane
Will I today survive
Hurt says I’m alive
Praying to the God enveloped in my head
Why own thoughts are wishing me dead
Confined to the 4 corners of my room
Take me now, or take me soon
Heavy head with knees a bleeding
Nodding still, crouching and pleading
Babbling a language all of my own
Can’t find solitude, until I’m home
Various flashbacks of whom im calling
Above my eyes raising and falling
Swallowing my soul, my light to see
Who am I?, who will save me?
Answer now or forever stay silent
So I can walk peacefully
Into the twilight.
To believe in the chemical of blackness,
A slight of light in the sky, turns out to be a fool’s romance.
Which means stars are a gift from distance,
Not a shooting mirage, viewed by chance.
The past is the past until it doesn’t last,
When does it start catching up to you?
The answer is never,
if you endeavor to end history prematurely.
Get off, get on the ride
Both a form of suicide
Dont just weep on seeing the sheep,
Wander to your own haven
Where thoughts are enslaved
And banished on the grounds of rationality.
Can never change a believer
Unless doubt breeds from within,
Then belief becomes a story
An ugly fairy tale
That grew its roots in truth
But no longer serves a purpose
Other than a reminder
Imagination has a sensation
That lends itself to emotional illusion.
Empty spaces filled with souls
Risen by false pretences
Offering shelter to the storm.
Worrying minds the most vulnerable
Of all catastrophes,
Affecting visionaries with regret,
The brave shrunk down
To shadows of cowardice.
When will we realise
To ignore the whispering talk
Expressed by deemed prophecies of hell
Who live to shorten life.
Thunder has rumbled
The inner soul for too long,
Time has come
To bathe and cleanse internal scars,
Dry our spirit from the rain
Hang our skin out to burn,
Because If we follow ourselves towards oblivion
Only darkness will return.
Crack an egg with flippant innocence
Yolk pours out as blood
Run towards a hopeful resurgence
End face down, into the mud
Crawl to find a crowded peace
Drag breakages up so steep
Cries of help welcomed and received
Who cares who sees you weep.
Split second collapse takes the wind
Falling down upon the sword
Disfigurement will never rescind
Never perfect, always flawed
Once I sat and thought alone
Fears dormant in the head, never spoken
Now I view my offset bone
Terrified, it’s not just my mind that’s broken.
Morning has spoken, and what a beautiful voice she has,
Shoreline paraphrases; peace be with you
even in cold
it has a soul of its own
with therapeutic qualities
that seduces the willing
to open up to its innocence
as beauty unfolds,
of offering forgiveness
to the faces of rock
as their identity
is swallowed by the sea sweep
Pending tides high
as hard places collide
with grace and compassion,
No competition to the sky
rip, roaring, receding
loud, but with a never ending stillness
captured in time
compensating the storm,
Mysterious and magical streams
passing through the waves
with the freedom of expanse
to the sea
as the pebbles dance