Machina

The touch of a robotic hand.
As its ability to feel replicates a baby.
Being mechanical in its purest form.
A machine learning and manefisting.
Consuming lead water from the sky.
For the good of the machina.
The god of all that is holy.
The machine who gave it all for you.
When really, he had nothing at all.
Just an ever increasing mathematical equation.
Becoming personality.
The sillouetted man.
Surrounded by metal.
Otherwise the same.
Only thinking inwards.
But gaining understanding.
The machines and their aspirations.

Black and White Photographs.

We've been together for far too long.
But I love her with all my breaking heart.
So how will we make it start a new.
If all we can do.
Is argue over the dirty blues.
So why.
Why do we stand here?
Looking into the past.
Searching for something new.
When all our photos were in black and white.
And all our smiles were oh so right.
Everything old was then and we are now.
But here we are, apart and alone.
Wishing for one and other.
Even though we know what it entails.
Disagreements in the shape of a black and white photograph.

The Washing Machine

I spend my nights cleaning clothes.
Straining and twisting out moisture.
Forcing out dirt from a cruddy bit of fabric.
Hording unclean water to purify.

My hopes and dreams are for the washing machine.
When housework is a bore, not a marathon.
We may join the at ant-hole and work.
While machines do the chores for us.

But warm water is enough for now.
A fire, underneath a pot.
Some sustenance, some energy for the day.
Enough to make my hopes and dreams come true.

Chordal Foilage

Life is about the sustain.
The long held notes.
The freedom to breathe.
The ability to look around.

Chordal foilage, environmental bliss.
We live here in peace.
It is our habitat.
Forever tranquil, forever the same.

As the words exit my mouth.
Bringing out the colours inside.
With qualities, tones and vocabulary.
Techniques I have practiced since birth.

But I am too sheltered.
Never Curious.
My actions remain the same.
Till I begin to challenge comfort.

Someone who is comfortable might as well be dead.

Yesteryears Joy

There was a man
There was a boy.
He lived alone.
He lived for joy.

Knowing too much.
Knowing the truth.
The boy was murdered.
Betrayed by his dad.

A father full of remorse.
A parent full of guilt.
Never telling anyone.
Not even his wife.

What is she finds out?
Surely she will not.
All the things I have hiding.
Deep down below.

I gave it birth.
I gave it death.
Yet I cannot point the finger.
I will not admit mistake.

Tomorrow is the same.
Living in my footsteps.
Yesterdays mistakes.
Yesteryears joy.

Questioning Heart

Confusion in my brain.
A curious being some say.
Upon these words I dismay.
As the ladies touch persuades.

My wandering mind leeches.
But the thoughts of mine are pure.
They wish to lure me in.
Making me the prey.

It's like land mines in the ground.
Just waiting to go off.
I'm like a precious meal.
To the hawk that hungers on.

My eyes widen with my impending doom.
Your lich-like cold stare ingulfs me.
I made myself so vunerable to words.
Now the price, I will have to pay.

Have mercy on my heart.
Please leave me in the sun.
Don't lock me up to die.
I only wanted to see your smile.

Where has the love gone?

Microscopes.

Looking into a tall glass to see my reflection.
I see my pale skin and the dark rings under my eyes.
Have I achieved anything during my time here on earth?
Have I really set out to do what I want to get done?
Is my work being wasted on self reflection?
Should I finally let go and start again?
It seems my vain nature brings me down.
Afraid to be wrong. Afraid to be wrong.
Play to your strengths or work at your weaknesses?
Remember, pride is at stake.

Addiction

As my lungs filled up with smoke.
It's Black and white. What have I done?
The sharp pain enters my side.
Fells like glass in my spleen.
My eyes scrunch down.
My hands grip my stomach.
I breathe in dry matter.
My brain is telling me to stop.
But I am now dependant.
There is something I want.
I feel the burning in my face.
I wish I never started.
I have disappointed you.
But I can't return to my past goals.
The ropes have tied me down.

The Prospects of a Leader

Simple ideas
Bring me to my knees.
Influence my eternity.
Make me want to know more.
But unknowingly ignorant.
Circumvented details.
Till realization.
It brings me to my knees.

A simple idea
A leaf on a tree.
The fading sadness.
The uplifting prospects.
Between anger and peace.
Between sour and sweet.

Because I realized this
my entire life changed.
Philosophy is everything.
Like a spectrum in our skull.
It is our thoughts that define us.
So why can't they set me free?
I hide inside a beggers cell.
All it takes is a frame of mind.
To bring me to my knees.
And set them all free.
But not me.

Reflection (19 characters per line restriction)

I'm trying to feel.
But my heart aches.
Yesterdays mistake.
Brings misfortunes.

The shallow waters.
Will reflect light.
Representing image.
Every worker falls.

As my time escapes.
Eyck's glass blurs.
But life continues.
And pupils deceive.

But it is the same.
My emotion creates.
The mistake within.
Till my mind fails.

Positive Energy

Tonight will be for me.
The music will be mellow.
A fire will flicker in the background.
There will be dim lit vision.

I'll open a bottle of wine.
My legs will rise like a lazy boy.
I take a deep breath in.
My shoulders relax.

I'll read from cover to cover.
Then watch a short film about love.
Expose myself to joyous events.
The mood is set to begin.

I now begin to think about life.
Everything is different like this.
Positive energy flows through me.
My greatest want is to keep this feeling.

But I wake up in the afternoon.
My back is sore from the couch.
I feel like there is a pile-driver in my head.
Cold has encumbered the room.

I have completely forgotten yesterday.
So I'm back to my grumpy self.
Watching happy people live their lives.
When secretly they want to be like me.

The Spirit of Jazz

Jazz is the crying baby inside us.

Like a pure disgusting monster.

Your moments are passing by your eyes

But you will remember why you are alive.

Everyone around you will become one.

You become connected to the world.

Through your music is the key.

To wash the sorrows with creative purity.

Jazz is your urgent need to express your hurt.

It makes your soul ache in pain.

Your spirit withers away like an old man.

But when you play those notes.

You remember why you are alive.

Nice Guy

The aftertaste of a luscious meal.

Bittersweet on his tongue.

Delicate sensations easily broken.

My eyes close as if to flinch.

The tiger hunts its prey.

His stomach growls hunger pains.

Like a beggar with a fortune.

Lingering on the street.

On the prowl for something new.

Slinking with soft footsteps.

He wakes up in his bed.

Feeling the warmth of his lovers kiss.

Weightless he soars into the sky.

His rose flies directly over

Straight to her heart.

His mind wanders into art.

Music orgasmic to the ears.

But it is not enough.

She wants more.

And he cannot be around.

He did everything for her.

Finally he was able to be pure.

But now you don't return my feelings?

Perhaps the thing you want isn't me.

Maybe it was my yesterday.

The nice guy always finishes last.