The destruction of silence


Watch the heavy clouds that can turn you into the blue madonna

What would you give to be important now that your fame has finished?

You could be as menacing as statues

If you face was as green as a valley

Shame your own bed with sad music

The conduct of all living things will flood the night with your fears

Look to your trophies which cover the fields

Now all rotten to the core

In this new destruction of silence





Your beauty left me


I am reconnecting with myself

I feel like an absolute honour

I’ve never broken up

Through the white heat days


You are way more intense

Than you are given credit for

Even if we had never met

You would still warp my reality


Fancy sharing a careful plan?

I was on my way home

When your beauty left me

I would love to catch it again.



Self Help Guide


Take a close look at this situation

Are you closer than you think?

Focusing on the past, can it reveal the future?

Go through your personal experience

Try standing outside yourself.

Relevant clues are never easy to find

Analyze what makes you happen

Have you got the confidence of descending resignation?

Yes we are all frustrated,

but you know that is an oversimplification of your life.

Answer a real question:

If you were someone else

Would you really be happy?






We are the men who strive to become gods


This is an age of new

awake from your dreams

break your eternal silence, as vile as it seems.

We are the men who strive to become gods.


Where does the fault lie?

We see all on the news

Infinite passion and pain

That takes us towards a lost eternity.


That nothing be to strange for tragedy

For muses sing of the death of our gods

Darkening thoughts in the hearts of men

Bring forth the days of man-made doom.


You can look out at a sea of faces

All in despair, and now broken to the world,

That they once called home

What progress has been advanced by all this suffering?




The smile not the laugh


It’s the smile not the laugh

As every Mona Lisa knows

Smiling from frame to frame in a photocopy world

Disappearing into middle distance

Fading into the past

Memories are the thumbprints on the canvas

The truthful lies we tell ourselves,

when no one is listening

So at last we despise what we have become.

The rain reflects the sadness of the day

Collected with sorrow in the puddles of missed opportunity.



Cold Sweat


Who is your new squeeze?

Change them whenever you like, because

Terror romance students seduce lonely people.


I love your new look

Shadow drinking in front of your mirror

No crime has been committed today.


Baby Jesus contains up to 8 spoonfuls of sugar, so I was told

I’ve been dark room dancing

In the Twilight Zone.


It’s suicide face-time

ultimate victory will be a haunting epic

manic people find sharing hate mail so empowering.


Face thieves check in as cash monkeys

Girl trip is banned by an Ebola scrum

Two countries were angry at something hurting.


Treatment places are washed away with desperate tears

This selfie obsession paranoia

ends the year in a cold sweat.





Plan B


Level up and start yourself esoteric and textural

No money? No problem

Two’s company in the frozen cortex of dreams

I’ve watched rooms full of selective musings

Attempt to make noise from a certified trainer

Hot hands rejoice as they push things further into the past

Shaking hands are vital for future deals

Make sure you have a Plan B

Exclusive hands-on sessions are passionate

as someone you know well

You write the problem

and become proud of it

I have experimented with rapture

I found it really helpful

People like to be asked

If their experience was all in vain.



Growling Monster


Growling monster

Shopping is such a pain.

Growling monster,

work your allies to death.


Blanket demonstrations

cover the scene

Forget the horror, unfolding

in hidden religions,

nothing wrong with dying

if the cause is good.


Lunch is served,

await your trial.

Growling monster

shopping is such a pain

All the food is rotten

and everything useful,

has been peacefully strangled.


Feels like another Monday.


Work; the Growling monster


I travel home for peace.


My tragic life starts again.


I always believed life,

it was more than money.


Growling monster,

I’m so sorry,

to be wrong.




Working for the man


As I travel to a job I detest

in the cold early hours

I wonder when did I turn mad?


We are all ‘working for the man’

and the ‘man’ is ‘money’

but like everyone I need things –


Freedom does not seem to be one of them.


How to escape?

The man will only finally let us go

when we pay him in full


With our lives.