Fishbowl

brown bars.

  My father imprisoned,

  my mother a grey stone.

  I walk these cold streets,

  I walk them alone.

 

  Habits

  Habits don't die,

  they may fade for a while,

  a long while at that.

  Though they still linger,

  at the back of your skull,

  waiting patiently to be released.

  When that time comes,

  god bless.

 

  Bloodshot

  Wide eyes burn blood shot,

  Marry me and clutch my throat.

  Let us produce in salem's lot,

  Eat me kindly and free the goat.

  Baby will you feed thee not,

  Sail me away and sink the boat.

  Begging for light as my stomach turns tight,

  Powders become a magic wall.

  My final wish is to once feel right,

  Skeletons, turtles, I see them all.

  My skin turns white and I feel the flight,

  A microscope of Peter and Paul.

  Nuclear expansion of dynamite,

  Airways block as I begin to crawl.

  Father please forgive me not,

  Wide eyes burn blood shot.

 

  Rain Clouds

  Looking out the window watching dark clouds form,

  Knowing it won't be long until I can feel the rain.

  Waiting for the moment I can enter the storm,

  To release the sadness and evaporate the pain.

  Walking along the flooded pathway with a shine on my face,

  The gloomy atmosphere makes it feel like the sun is shining.

  Headlights blinding my eyes as it all falls into place,

  Droplets soaking my hair as my mind starts refining.

  The sound of splashing is music to my ears,

  Knowing that out here, no one can see my tears.

 

  A Gardener’s Animosity

  Unknown answers turn troubled tables,

  The garden gate has closed.

  Silence grows ever orange maples,

  The soil has decomposed.

  Flowers are executed with razor sharp loppers,

  Weeds cover the walkway.

  Locked outside by solid door stoppers,

  Leaves wield the doorway.

  Nails punish the dirt brown fences,

  The concrete mess erodes.

  The tree branch expands defences,

  The concrete mess explodes.

  The fountain causes a flood.

  Gnomes buried in mud.

  Frogs made from wood.

  Pond full of blood.

  She knew she should,

  She knew she should.

 

  I Inside I

  Darkness drips down my face as,

  I stare at the demon before me.

  He stares right back with,

  Eyes so shameless and empty.

  A straight mouth,

  A straight nose,

  A twisted mortality.

  Controlling this man is like playing Jenga,

  When the pieces are buried in sand.

  Making his choices is like operation delta,

  Without a single gun in hand.

  Walking forward is like sailing a ship,

  When the deck is still on land.

  So I'm sorry if I hurt you,

  Just know that,

  It's not I inside I.

 

  Ferris Wheel

  Twenty pound a ride to see the world untied.

  Boarding the carriage to escape your dark passage.

  Gaining height as you get closer to the light.

  Feeling the breeze and the tingle in your knees.

  Watching clouds drift as birds move so swift.

  Seeing the skies with the expansion of your eyes.

  You've reached the highest peak and you're feeling antique.

  Imagining you're the king with the most magnificent ring.

  All that,

  Just to go back down again.

 

  Drunk at Ease

  Unravel your mind

  to a place unconfined

  That is where I lay

  dormant for a day

  Struggle is passive

  freedom grows massive

  Sadness comes untrue

  colours fade from blue

  Happiness is golden

  as worries are now olden

  Stable as a monk

  though I'm only drunk

  Thoughts will come back

  but for now they are black

 

  Outcast

  This giant fire ant travels on a lonely path,

  Through the pond of Pepsi poured in a cola glass.

  Aroused by a blood stained bubble bath,

  Sniffing out rats like a snake in pergola grass.

  A prestigious priest swollen by an evil wrath,

  A wooden block hidden in a wall of glass.

  A play writer studying computer math,

  A natural chef discovering atomic mass.

  An outcast,

  Outclassed.

 

  The Thoughts of Dennis Green

  Have you ever wanted to slice open your own throat?

  I feel like that every night,

  I even keep a cut-throat razor by the side of my bed.

  Sometimes I just drift it across the light stubble on my neck,

  It gives me goose bumps and tingles in my stomach.

  It's a lovely razor, shiny, metallic, with a wooden handle that's painted red.

  I bought it from an antique store in Bergamo.

  Best purchase I've ever made.

  When I look in a mirror I often see the open wound,

  The blood dripping down, covering my chest.

  It's like a fantasy.

  So, are these the thoughts of an insane man?

  Maybe, but I live a normal life.

  Three kids, a dog and a wife.

  Wake up, get a shower, eggs and coffee on the table.

  Go to work at nine, back by five for lunch,

  Shit once a day, pee twice,

  Maybe three times if I've drank more than usual.

  Enjoy a few in the pub every Sunday, making jokes about our spouses.

  Like how Maria expects me to wear a condom AND stay hard,

  I'm fifty three for fuck sake, with the athleticism of Homer Simpson.

  So, why are these thoughts mine?

  Well, these thoughts can be anyone's thoughts.

  Happiness can be deceitful.

 

  Money

  Lips taste like concrete,

  The winds form a scar.

  Cuts feel so complete,

  Sleeping on wet tar.

  Living off one wheat,

  Stomach like a nut jar.

  Begging for red meat,

  Outside the snack bar.

  The man on the street,

  Shadowed by a car.

  Children trick or treat,

  Burnt by a cigar.

  Money.

  The root of all evil,

  But evil takes you far.

 

  The Art House

  Welcome to the old art house on the new hill,

  Inside you find an empty canvas and a brush of tranquil.

  You take a seat and scope the wide window of a magnificent view.

  So why, in a field of flowers, do you paint a dead Autumn leaf?

  You have a vision so vast but focus on the brief.

  In front lay a pallet of bright colours from yellow to blue.

  So why, in a rainbow of colour, do you paint black?

  You have all the tools you need but choose to put them back.

  The housekeepers have spoken, they want you to go.

  They offered you assistance but you replied,

  "No."

&nbs
p;

  Stick Man

  Back in the ward for another weight test.

  Three stone under, just as I guessed.

  Being underweight is just as bad as being over,

  People just assume that I refuse to feed.

  It's no surprise that I walk a lone rover,

  There's no change no matter my greed.

  The playground isn't a healthy place to be,

  With my apparent disfigurement I try to be discrete.

  Though others are always calling me,

  Telling me to eat.

  "You're wasting away."

  "You look like a stick man."

  "Fading by the day."

  "Pick up a source pan."

  "Put on some weight."

  "You need to start adjusting."

  "Grab another plate."

  "You're disgusting."

  No one understands that I try my best.

  I guess this noose will put it all to rest.

 

  Exploration

  Posting on unsocial networks about exploration,

  Saying someday I swear I will sail the seven salty seas on a vacation.

  When in reality we sail in a river of intoxication,

  Simplification faces evaporation, an artist creation of beta radiation.

  Fuck gravitation, but praise dissatisfaction on the board of education,

  No identification leads to hospitalization, the admiration of improvisation.

  Picking up the unemployment compensation,

  Dismissing the idea of a spontaneous generation.

  Living life without clarification of re-installation or reincarnation,

  What an abomination to optimal communication.

  Magnified manifestation of discrimination towards normalization,

  Poor justification without investigation. Straight up interrogation.

  Ignoration about the creation of our location,

  Humiliation to those placing certification on religious orientation.

  There's no documentation declaring obligation against infestation,

  But one hundred on immigration. Suspended animation.

  Visible radiation on the written communication,

  Suffocation on our generic stimulation to control population.

  Decrease in salvation, increase in starvation despite the location,

  Strangulation towards reconsideration, criminal conversation.

  Letters of administration go through an oral examination,

  Leading to dis-confirmation by the leading generation.

  Hibernation dismisses inspiration to generate motivation.

  Hello civilization, have a free operation on the formulation of exhalation.

  Open your mirror and view the reflection, that's perfection.

  Now in celebration, sail across the seas with an orgasmic sensation.

 

  Avalanche of Glass

  Glass falls upon me,

  As I stare before my reflection.

  I begin to clearly see,

  The blood puddles are perfection.

  My movement becomes stim,

  The scars so deep and bare.

  As water dries from my stem,

  I see the clouds don't care.

  Plains of glass pierce my back,

  But pushing forward is a must.

  Though this pain I shall attack,

  Until my bones are burnt to dust.

 

  Insects

  Spiders painted on the bedroom walls,

  Leeches burn up in my stomach acid.

  Along my forehead woodlice crawls,

  The stick insect remains placid.

  The anteater is eaten by ants,

  Birds shiver at the sight of a worm.

  Bee stings begin to stable plants,

  To a hedgehog a beetle is a germ.

  Caterpillars turn giant before sunset,

  Butterflies become a vanquished past.

  Human fluids begin to regret,

  As they are drunk by flies at long last.

 

  Bedside

  She lay aside I in bed,

  I know she breathes no longer,

  The thumping of her pulse stopped weeks ago.

  But I can't tell anyone,

  I can't let her enter heaven’s gate.

  I care for her,

  I warm her frozen body,

  I spray her with air freshener to compress the smell,

  I cradle her corpse at night so it knows it isn't alone,

  She is okay.

  She has always been okay.

  The drugs I gave her that night were just to make her stay,

  We will lay aside each other forever,

  We have always been best friends,

  We always will be.

  And though she doesn't speak,

  I hear a thousand words,

  A thousand I-love-yous.

  I love her too,

  I have always loved her.

  Though, her body has begun to crumble,

  I don't think she wants me,

  Her particles are escaping.

  Why are they escaping,

  Why are the voices fading,

  Why is her love moving on,

  Why is she entering heaven’s gate.

  Now, here I sit,

  On the edge of my bed,

  Legs crossed.

  Covered in my own blood,

  Drinking milk from a broken glass...

  Waiting.

 

  Butterflies

  The winds are too strong.

  Butterflies are scared to fly.

  Left alone to die.

 

  Man or Wasp

  Floating around the gardens of night,

  Drenched in toxic waste, flavorsome but wasted.

  Seeing spirals spinning rapid, flight cycle adjusted.

  Petals regard as blossom that this strange wasp can... fuck.

  Enter the magic maze of rushing fluid.

  Beauty coated in a thick black tar of the unexplained.

  A deathly figure dancing in her fleshly innards,

  Just to leave a watermark.

  The locks on the box are torn apart,

  A chest burst open with the content of love astray.

  For a wasp leering his leech into the tree bark.

  Bruises on the branches from a jack so deadly.

  Swimming in a sea of painted but cracked glass windows.

  Dirt ridden crimson with a sorrowful smile.

  Gloating to his tribe, laughter and satisfied.

  Congratulations on the sting of venality.

  Meanwhile she's vile.

  Vomiting on her ugly fucking broken skin.

  Unhappy.

 

  Stomach Pain

  STOMACH PAIN.

  GROWLING LIKE A WILD BEAST

  DESPERATE FOR A DISGUSTING FEAST

  CLENCHING MY FIST

  WEEPING IN THE CORNER OF MY ROOM

  CURLED UP IN A FAT BALL OF DISTURBING MESS

  MOTHER FORCING ME TO SWALLOW

  JUST THE SMELL TURNS ME ILL

  SHOVING SPEARS DOWN MY THROAT

  PUKE.

  Some of the disease is released,

  for a moment I felt happy,

  but then it hit me,

  I was still not as thin as her.

 

  Pillow Bite

  I bite my pillow at night,

  soaked in sweat and saliva,

  sheets stained with blood and piss,

  still intoxicated,

  malfunctioned fucked up machinery.

  Peel off my ears,

  rake out my eyes,

  burn my skin,

  force bleach down my throat,

  strangle me with rope,

  end this imbalance.

 

  Unstable

  MOTHER.

  Taunting termites tickle the tunnel of the turtle train,
r />   Haunting hurricanes hunt heavily for the horrified brain,

  Even the brittle mind of an inculpable mouse can be slain.

  Violence soaks the tadpole in an oil of alteration,

  Overcoming simple silence and common formation.

  Intoxicated baby widow gripped by temptation,

  Choices ruled by a distinguished doll of sedation.

  Eventual distinction generates evil sensation,

  Shaking blood cells cause bodily vibration.

  Kinetic blades pierce the stomach of his creator,

  Intolerant heaves express the little boy's crater.

  Love couldn't caress the unpleasant translator,

  Luxury gained from the vile substance maker.

  Emptiness now shadows around the equator,

  Demons always take over sooner or later.

  Heavens now hold the mother of a sociopath,

  Even evil doesn't explain this utility of complex math,

  Ravenous fertile has been cursed with a clouded wrath.

  NURSES.

  Idle mind rests the carved canvas in a fruit bowl.

  Anorexic decisions inhale the metallic stench,

  Memories vanquish the angel's comforting clench.

  Now a raw wrist follows the shadow of a silhouette,

  Open wounds highlight the mentality of a potential threat,

  Taunting teachers assemble in a room forcing asset.

  Illusive voices persuade the death of an adept,

  Now multiple devoured carcass await to be stepped,

  Savage on the run through a maze of intercept.

  Anger flows through the gullet of the wept,

  Never since has the blood covered slept,

  Easy-going thoughts have completely been swept.

  KITTEN.

  Deranged psychosis now has truly embraced,

  Oblivious little kittens should have never been chased.

  Nocturnal corruption concludes the adolescent defaced,

  The sickness trembles down the cold hearted waste.

  Latent suspect hides the hidden darkness in a tree,

  Opaque witness now eats from a hive of bee.

  Overt delusions just want to be set free,

  Knowing he killed so many causes a heavy brain fee.

  Abdominal pain contemplates tragic seppuku,

  Turbulence guided by an angelic guru.

  Movement slows with the loss of veins,

  Emptiness grows as the blood lust gains.

  BISHOP.

  How can the heavens open for such a traumatized case,

  Angles weep at the heavily stained shattered vase.

  Immoderate words are spoken out of place,

  Ludicrous prayers will not replace.

  Madness steals the softness of the lamb,

  Again anger disbands of a lovingly clam.

  Revolting blades devour the exam,

  Yet another buried below six gram.

  SALESWOMAN.

  Mushrooms inadequate now the polyester has burned,

  Another slurred vermin spitting out a lesson learned.

  Knight in rusty armor faced with what she earned,

  Even shadows shadow darkness when darkness has returned.

  Inheriting the riddled sound of a hunter's snare,

  Toxicated tunnel rats vaporize bleak fresh air.

  Sudden swollen pathways glow a dangerous red,

  Too many park bench lurkers have companied the dead.

  Obese feast unfed thus targeting further bloodshed,

  Pessimistic adventures continue on the walk awfully ahead.

  PATIENT.

  Waking occupied by mere murderous madness,

  Hope has been hung on a noose full of sadness,

  Yielding the gore stained banner of badness.

  Anchors rise when the clock freezes the second hand,

  Ravaging on the thrills of another grain of sand,

  Erased to thy kingdom come without command.

  Weeping wedding bells bless the silence of a cadaver,

  Even humanity can forgive an unholy slaver.

  Horrified harmonies play as a homicide suspect still stands,

  Eyeless hawks bury their beaks into rusty lands.

  Ryhmeless thoughts now rattle many swollen hands,

  Ethnic thoughts tremble families of the fallen sands.

  SELF.

  Wondrous worries now quell the venom of a snake,

  Eternal depression removes the lion from the steak.

  Matted eyes highlight a graveyard soon to be,

  Unbalanced on a rope bridge hanging oversea.

  Solid bones bury themselves to be set free,

  Terrestrial soaks up the sunshine but remains the key.

  Goodnight we say to one passing of hell,

  Odour remains through a familiar smell.

 

  Patterns of Strange

  . . .

  Surrealistic poetry has become my favourite genre to write. Surreal imagery and art, such as the works of Salvador Dali, is what inspired me to create in-human, unusual, weird environments and scenarios in my writing.

  A lot of work in this category is hard to understand; it often leaves in the reader wondering and forces them to look deeper into the words and images created. Unless asked, I have never been one to explain my poems, and it is poetry I have placed under this section that gets the most questions.

  Overly complex poetry is not well received in the modern day. A lot of people I have discussed literature with find this style of poetry to be obnoxious, pretentious, unprofessional, and amateur. However, as long as it is not overly-cryptic love poetry, I love it.

 

  The Water Dragon

  With decisions made by visions,

  My words form leaves on an occult tree branch.

  Thick black mist causes smoked, stormy collisions,

  Put the cold cattle back in the litter-full ranch.

  Because pink sheep escape with momentary wings,

  They fly through themselves with the blood of a bull.

  Green grass gardens sprout the petals of kings,

  Forming into bright sparks of light, destructing the dull.

  The bed bugs are squished by harmonies of airs,

  Winds spring a clear mind and a sleep so soft.

  Nightmares are in the past so the harp declares,

  Soothing charms brush the spiders from the loft.

  Though sudden storms form in the dusk,

  Monstrous waves of sea sink the sea ships,

  The sails have been torn by the giant tusk,

  Wings of wind wave the wooden strips.

  Alas be worn,

  The water dragon is born.

  LSD

  I once stood in a plain white room,

  With a tab of LSD in hand.

  At first I could see the moon,

  Then I looked down at land.

  The concrete was corrupt,

  As was the quick sand.

  Suddenly a volcano erupt,

  Making my skin tanned,

  Almost burn to a crisp,

  Just as they had planned.

  The people around me turned alien,

  With huge eyes and slim skin,

  Craving a taste of Malian,

  Despite being full to the brim.

  Sheep danced around me,

  The walls turned a dark red,

  They laughed because I could not see,

  That everyone in this room was dead.

  Money then fell from the sky,

  But landed in the gutters.

  Imaginary people began to cry,

  The clouds answer in stutters.

  A horse with three legs and two heads,

  Asked if I could save his life,

  "Cut one off" he dreads,

  "So I can see my wife."

  I drew a sword with a pencil,

  And sliced through his neck.

  I couldn't find my stencil,

/>   But I still claimed a cheque.

  Voices of laughter and cries sound haunting,

  String puppets stare from below.

  I see lines of clowns that are taunting,

  Telling me to grow.

  Then,

  I swallowed the acid to see what would happen.

  Strawberry Mushrooms

  Strawberry mushrooms

  Hidden in a magical field of

  Giant mountains and leaves

  Seeking love

  In the dark fountain of

  Rotten banquets and thieves

  Mystical lioness

  Feeding young minds with

  Sparkling ladybirds and

  Meat coated in pollen

  Tyrant hyena

  Teaching young to slay

  With a venomous sting

  The lioness are fallen

  Strawberry mushrooms

  Floating through the sky

  Love found in the clouds

  Looking down on the passing

  The cheek of angels

  The cheek of angels

  Summoning swords

  Acidic raindrops

  Gym junkie records

  Closed music shops

  Burning woods

  People melting

  Internal floods

  Clerics smelting

  The grass grows

  Humans vanish

  Darkness flows

  Unspoken Spanish

  Hands bitter

  Lungs frozen

  Clear quitter

  One chosen

 

  Black sunlight

  No jungle kings

  White moonlight

  Chilling hot springs

  Growing sparrows

  Eyeless dragons

  Millions of arrows

  Wheels with no wagons

  Plastic Horse

  If I was a horse I would eat a magnet to see if a shoe would fit

  Nothing would happen because I am made from plastic

  The other horses laugh and to be honest I hate to admit

  That the sound effects against my rubber ear drum are drastic

  Running on the track is a breeze for the other horses

  When I try the track morphs into a river of devil forks

  It is almost like the toy God has summoned evil forces

  Today even the water deer could fill the floods with a cork

  When I clog through the big city the buildings stare at me

  The mass of closed windows always seem to be furious

  To inhale some clean air I sit aroused by a guardian tree

  It tells me to leave but I want to stay I'm curious

  How do other fish swim in a sea of salt and toxins

  When us plastic horses see sharks and bulls in the sky

  Most days I want to stay locked in a vault feeding my auxins

  Others wish to climb aboard a concrete seagull and fly

  Laughing flowers say it is just a plain of grass you can do it

  They don't see that that grass is coated in nuclear gasses

  They tell me to bite my tongue and hand over a permit

  But I don't have a tongue I'm plastic

  I married a Zebra

  My wife said our zebra is bad luck,

  always reading voodoo magazines.

  "It's bad luck to have a striped horse,

  you will see Tom, in due course!"

  I love my pet Zebra, his name is Melvin.

  Melvin ate all the grass in my yard,

  who needs to mow the lawn now.

  He can't wash dishes though, yet.

  My wife would not stop shouting,

  So I chopped off her head.

  I told her to stop doubting...

  Oh well, now she is dead.

  I decided to use her body parts to play golf,

  her legs the club and head the ball.

  When I swung her foot came off,

  hit a wall.

  Since my wife was no more I wanted a divorce,

  but for some reason she would not sign the form.

  The judge almost seen that she was not alive,

  but I managed to persuade him that she was just sleeping.

  Melvin and I moved to an island far away,

  we had romantic dinners and rubbed hands in clay,

  like on that movie - ghost.

  I even taught him how to cook some toast.

 

  A few years passed and we thought it was time,

  I got down on one knee and presented him a dime.

  Melvin and I got married.

  It was fantastic as, it really was.

  I love my pet zebra.

 

  Cluster of dust

  my stomach turns into a cluster of dust

  as I struggle with this tyrant of lust

  loving is a must

  hidden in distrust

  please. just. let. my. heart gently rust

  actually. pin me down

  dress me up as a polka-dot clown

  white make-up. dressing gown

  nail my hands to olive brown

  grab my eyelids. hammer them shut

  take your fist and cut. my. gut.

  light me up. set me free

  let us swim into the deep blue sea

  hear the jazz. mellow tide

  feel the beauty of those who cried

  Under a tree of maple

  Lost,

  under this tree of maple,

  hands tied, hugging the rough wood.

  the sand rises up above my waist

  and thickens to strangle my crotch,

  what have I done to her.

  leaves slowly drift down and

  slice open my face with their

  razor coated edges as they pass.

  hours later I am parched,

  the sun suffers me and laughs as

  I attempt to drink the droplets of sweat,

  walking down my cheek.

  as dry as a wooden chair,

  my exhaustion peaks beyond hope,

  the desert dismantles through my eyes.

  suddenly,

  as gentle as a freshly blossomed petal,

  she calls my name from within the murky horizon,

  her footsteps revive my spirit.

  a wondrous meander she is,

  a queen dressed in sparkling water,

  slowly leaning forward she enriches me with

  a gentle kiss.

 

  water fills my body,

  my chest thrusts forward as the rope

  is torn from the tree.

  the sand begins to sink,

  again I can walk,

  again I am alive,

  again I am,

  Found.

 

  Materialistic Rough Hands

  The trapped grit in the cracks of my palm molds several mountains to another path.

  I traverse, seeking for the map to the other way.

  My brain is scattered in the process, body leaking with the green water I drank prior. Where is the left path? Why do we do it?

  A grazed knee, the bird’s beak is bruised. The smell of lost hope gently swipes the tip of my nose.

  Yellow brick road, without the bricks, and the yellow is a bunch of rats swimming in their own piss.

  A colony of nothing, rotting. What is the point of that?

  A golden chest could be crafted, but would it glow? No, it would laugh with its grey teeth and ask why we are burning ourselves with a hammer and chisel.

  It will tell us to run, but our material will call us back. Pointless shit like fancy shampoo or a jumper with a popular logo on it.

  What’s the point of that?

 

  Lions and Cages

  Cubs lost between blades of tall grass,

  Dragons master the air above us.

  Morphing to moles we evade the potential flames,

  Digging through soi
l to feast on a hunger strike.

  Worms taste bad so we travel through the sea,

  Morphing into seals, sea lions and sharks,

  We are emperors of the water.

  Until a fisherman's boat appears,

  We are a marine to a squid.

  Nets storm through the waves and burst bubbles,

  Hearts turn thunder as colonies collapse,

  Goodbye morphing friends.

  The few that remain flee back on land,

  From spiders to flies to crabs on the sand,

  Venturing together we finally find a settle.

  Cubs in the blades of tall grass.

  For dragons are no fear,

  It is the human being that curls blood.

 

  Complex Hell

  Frozen psychedelic oak tree floating in the air,

  Grey witch unsatisfied with a bold, black glare.

  Wooden fish sunk into the red odorous soil,

  Enigma slowly wrapped around the disoriented coil.

  Brain washed by cattle on a snow filled day,

  Heads shaking with decisions stuck in perplexed clay.

  Aspirations glide through a vortex of hate,

  Squids lock the key and eat away the gate.

  Shadows compel with a lush metallic smell,

  Insanity dwells inside a mysterious shell.

  Don't tell,

  But you're in hell.

 

  Roots

  I stop in my path,

  By the roots of a tree.

  I look up at the evil grin,

  And hear laughter in the air.

  I try to run away,

  But cannot move a muscle.

  The laughter increases,

  I'm losing my mind.

  My mind...

  Mind your own business.

  I pull the axe from my backpack,

  And cut through the wood.

  Leaves fall but I can walk