Has Anyone? You write about mewith a piece –optimistically under the banner of poetry.Your strangled communication skillssuffocated in the wheeze of
Only You hypocrisy never strikes youit remains some distant awaystupidity never taps you on the shoulderand points out the stupidity
Sometimes People Fall in Love With You sometimes people fall in love with yousometimes you just knowsometimes you do not
co Piloti was born on a rudderless boat,raised in an endless traffic jam.i went to school in a barren desert,where no one could ever understand. i dreamed on a distant planet,lacking a warm and pure sun.i was sacked by modern invaders;that‘s the nature of being young. i was loved on a battlefield,caressed by the slain and the weak.i was taken by the sound of cannon fire,romanced by the words they speak. i found happiness in the jokes,from those too easily left behind.i found the DNA of insanity,in the vending machine of my mind. let me, now steer this ship.away from the vain and the bored.with my one and only co pilot,for whom I will always adore.
i do not need a passers by guideto know how I feel insidei do not need bitter anecdoteson why we criedentrenched in corrupt pasturesin a childhood left to diei do not need to be told how it wasi know how I feel insideopinions can be banded aroundauctions for a point of viewbut please spare me from self serving historyespecially when people do not have a clueand have you noticed how the commentatorswith their blank faces and ignorancelook so much like the instigatorsthere really is no differencei do not need other people’s madnessi have a box in which i store my owni know you all far too wellthose eyes flicker and cry alone Monday 12th November 2007
these days –i defend my positionyes, I know I am madi always have.i inherited it one Christmas,from Mum and Dad. but my madness,is the same as yoursthe endless banging,on life’s closed doors.not the look at me,look at how mad I am.which if truth be told,really means, please understand these days –i throw occasional sound bitesfrom the ramparts,of my castle.madness came one Christmasfrom a game of pass the parcel.
packed up the bagsunder my eyesno sorrowand no goodbyeshad to declare,independence,for my mental statei left for my capitalbefore it became too latei held onto,lemonade dreamsand blanket skiesand then I packed upthe bags under my eyesmoving onmoving awaythere’s an alphabethidden in the things I say
some of the things I believed inwhen I was youngergot lost on the way.some of the things I believed inran out of things to say.advancing years,brings different hope,and ever changing careers.some of the things I believed inwhen I was younger,which I held dear to my heartgot lost on the way,or had to depart.some of the opinions I championedno longer seem the cause.rushed around and got in a spin;adulthood brings a notable pausewondering where to beginand lost in life’s many chores.some of the things I believed inwhen I was youngergot lost on the way. Monday 11th June 2007
i am massacred by remarka sentence,can tear me apart. and when looking at my deckchair eyesthe painand the past elegantly collide. i am felled by a comment,strung upby easy jibeand when looking at my bare bonesi fall apart so easily inside. people can be crueland think nothing,of taking you down a peg or two. they look at meand my pastand think, he has the strength to take itso they nail me to the mastbut I cannot fake it,or even barely make it,that resolve – they so easily break it. i am massacred by their insensitivitya sentence,can so easily crush my reality.
false Godsi shall not be passed over,by false Gods. i shall ride my bicycle,on lanes of vineyard philosophyand in the corridors,of nourishing thought. i shall run in the forests,not yet brutalised by mankind. i shall not be passed over,by false Gods.