Right person, wrong time, Mother was right, Life is not a slice pie, Sweetness inside, Yet better divided. Imagination lame, Deception, I change, Mirror, terrified gaze. Do dreams for tomorrow, Define today? I wish to wish my dreams away, Live a simple teal or gray.
Mollasses, grasses, So slowly time passes, Until masses stand up. Hunt and hunt and hunt, Fuck and fuck and fuck. Until nothing is left, Eating worms, grubs and bugs. Sovereign and one language, But towers are what we love, Mountains of Earth, plum Counter-part to flowers, Darkness, we become.
One last deal, a man's feet, Glass sharp as steel, Half free, half demand, Protect land from the sea. Footing, Looking up, Good enough, discuss, Bullshit words, wooden result. All I can see is the head: Bad feeling in the bed, If only I could fold my hands, Lean, sleep and dream. The chaos I would see.
We are stories Ideas Tales of us were told Long before we were We are stories Ghosts wandering 'n minds Tales of us passed on Long after we were We are alone Together In sadness, in joy: we become human We don't exist We're nothingness Unless we share Unless we're two or more
Trackside, the engineer twists and turns Back and forth - on the chair Tapping feet Biting their lips Clenching fists The balance must be right Between performance, between life Focus, forthright In every tiny decision Every design to make Weighing off the balance of winning Versus the life one could take At light speed, the pilot twists and turns Every lap, committed in the highest of G's Back and forth - shifts and learns Working wrists Operating feet The balance must be right Between speed, between sight In every corner A decision awaits Weigh the balance of life Versus the passion to race
Winters of sleep, a white canvas, broken dreams, cut sharp like shards of glass. Day-blush, but graceless eyes wide opened, anxious and helpless. Raindrops on the glass, hangover, reality, facts, as the window cracks, distant memories of what once was.
A horn right where the heart is, A horn is where we started, Beasts of a Godhead, snort, What else would they know? Seven heads, Seven hills, a woman sits, Fearing what we couldn't fix is still amiss, On top of the hill, one digests the hits, The house my father built is sticks. This calls for a mind with wisdom, Or A horn right where the heart is. For economics, For a little longer, For when they finally got it, The realization, it was violent. Then floods, then nothing. No foundation to stand on, I must found myself, found my call, But the houses my father built are gone.
Beauty, all its mystery, Maybe this is all a dream, Belief instinctively, Anger, or misery, Or is it grief within me? Imagine living, symptom-free, Imagine, breathing with relief, Instead coughing and wheezing, Sleeping with vivid dreams, While sleeping in the street. A body smeared with honey, Head to feet, conceit, Declared supreme, Yet not even complete.
A horse runs, devoid of time, A whale dives, despite depth, Vowel Rhyme, Towel, dye, Common find, Calm in mind. Triage, lies, Between fires, Flickering light. Sometimes a horse dives, Often times, In your eyes, The horse survives, In my mind, one more time.
#THE RIPPER# Do yourself a favour When he hurts you Do not do fit a hug My hands will be tied When he abandons you Do not seek refuge in me I would have gone abroad When he despises you Do not come for my live I would be short if feelings My heart has gone sour Bleed out cold and dead My humanity's been shut I have gone all black and grey My heart seems to be missing Emotions are long gone I have accepted grief and pain Sadness and misery now clothe mW Love's been sent out of my window When he abandons you Your face ruthlessly smashed to he ground Your arms brutally ripped apart Your body gracefully cut to pieces, but by bit When I think of you Even hope despairs Faith has its doubt Bravery now shivers Your slow and painful death Is all I await For I am the ripper. 🚫 #paulopalz# #theripper#
Truffle, my gems are gone. All bets are off. Swan, water, ruffles, Trouble underwater, The fish will balk: Death march talk becomes bubbles, They beg off, shot in the stomach, Test nothing, swim to the bottom. Lord, I spoke to God. Soft, I sodded off. Man, laughter, shuffle, Trouble in the park, People just forgotten: Talking until nonsense, Their tussles long, Of consequence and knowledge, Then replaced by logs.