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truth of poetry

Month

December 2014

5 spoken word tracks

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Life….or so we call it

Sobriety is so much more insane

Lets find it again!!!

Find the unbeaten path

Oblivious, Hypnotises

We Walk Alone…We Walk Alone

Sobriety, Insanity

We Walk Alone…We Walk Alone

Monotonousness, Mornings first kiss

We Walk Alone…We Walk Alone

Black stars, Blue skies

We Walk Alone…We Walk Alone

It’s all been sown and shown

To most of the bone, White and broken

Veins Brains and Strains

Fractures of skeletons

Fragments of life

new spoken word track

Oh How

Oh How

The night is young after the meds have stung

Taking hold of something from the equilibrium

spinal fluid

Seem so lucid and obscene to the touch

but so real to the feel

Skin’s peel, The Souls Mask

Oh How

The night shows the light

under skin coloured lines

Oh How

The night is good times

dancing with the devil

under pale moon light

The eyes of the wolf, deer caught in head lights

FRIGHT

at a sight of yellow eyes

BY and By

we all slowly die

SoCan Burns

Lights blare for you, Clare

the clear under tone of something clear

so much fear, so much beer

cancelled programs

SoCan burned  to the ground after you left

fire burned the streets to the pavement

“I blame you Flint Jackson”

15 chords played at once

the wolf loves to be on the hunts

for the arsonist

SoCan burns SoCan burns

A spokes person stands at the crowd

takes the crown with no frown,

Just a clown

for the poster boy to be the scape boat

floating down the moat in a pedal boat with a hole in the bottom of the moat

the water drains from the land to the brain

SoCan, SoCan’t burn 

SoCan’t burn flooded with water and road paint

hold close your saint

SoCan burns SoCan burns

Blast off

The Blast from the past

a slight hue of green, flashed across the forest tips, tree roots dug to the sky

fast

I have all my pockets full of cash

to pay the cast

All the actors and actress that made the past so real

to the eyes and soul feel

Bend down to touch the life of so much more

then die in a sensation moor

castles and battering rams

ivory and rusty cans scattered on the tiles, slabs of sandstone and crushed bone

I cant call home, no phone

cant call thought, no time

sprinkle some thyme and all will taste delicious

and seems so priceless in space

Blast off

Industry

Pale faced with thoughts against nature

death to future                   of all music and art

we’re all buying into our coffins

unmarked and buried above ground

with no ceremony or prays to the lost prophets

and still we buy into the “INDUSTRY” we all want to call home

they’ll take skin from bone

they’ll cast the first stone

after one word spoken in derision or so called blasphemy

to the poison suits we put our hands in, to hold and to become home

empty suits

empty message

forgetting about the masses

remember you sold your soul for a dott’d line

now the razor cuts fine

for only a dime of your time and you will be owned

never to be of your true mind

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