Take the powder out of your mouth.
Let the crimson tide flow deeply down your veins.
Rest still deep within the comfort of your cherished chair & drift.
Fall away like autumn leaves upon the cold winds of time.
Believe the dreams my friend & gather in the dust of thought.
Ask yourself the darkest question.
Is death a friend? Will it hurt?
Will nature chase your haunted mind until it screams?
& spot the girl.
The angel of your destiny.
The fraudulent one.
Watch her beckon you in with whispers of beckoning pleasure.
But realise all angels lie & disdain the truth.
Are you still numb with the ecstasy of the burning numbness held within?
Now gaze upon the mirror my friend.
Glare back at the tears you stream towards the level of hell.
Is that where you wish to end or sink?
Is life that bad that all you see are the roses which grow over you?
Are you weak or just subsumed in the tiredness of eternal exhaustion?
So many questions asked I feel you spin.
So come sit with me & let the rhythms flow.
Taste the wine or magic seed escape your self.
Breathe out, exhale & let your soul drift & seek the source of your belief.
Feel the passion of her innocence, the stories of your next day forth.
Cry & shudder & start again.
Kiss the world & then forget.
Tomorrow starts here in your powdered mind.
~ thoughtful dreams as i sit before you, the world
(c) ed simkins 2015
Mute cacophony of ideas
Dreams which end, perplex & roll around to play games in the sand.
A water leaked.
Late night issues & forgotten themes.
Who cares but nobody for the dreams which died.
Incest gave way to passion & planets spun.
Heavy hand broken on repeat.
Can u understand the criteria of the late night sleep?
Her clothes were torn.
Knees showing in pads of white,
Distance drowning in some foreign air,
She rued the injustice of other people’s wars.
& all the time I coloured text upon the wall.
Final hours stay alert in orange flames of death.
Crimson cigarettes pass from lips.
Youth was a name I knew before.
Braided hair lost its appeal.
I cried when the dog in space died this afternoon.
& Jane was a stranger sold as slave.
Was sex always supposed to be free?
Money buries the dead in sheets of grey
& pauses wait patiently for each man to fill.
What would you say if you were here?
Would you talk to god about the football scores?
Or ask him if you could seduce the neighbour’s daughter?
I live on an island of solitude
Where no respect is given for deeds.
I suppose you should sleep now huh?
Bed yourself in clouds of work.
Could you think of me as I alert the police & ramble fine mosaic words across the sky,
Silent dreams of sex & angels.
Time to plug in the blanket of love & hope & peace.
I wonder if you will say how clever I am?
Is it not good that I can count the stars upon the back of my head?
Girls or drugs or both I ask
& then step forward to illustrate the aim of all escape.
Goodnight or morn & salutations.
Robot greased & sleep ensues.
A late night fest.
I take my rest
& bid all thee farewell my friends.