The cantrabank sits by a stream.
She crumples the bit of paper she willingly writes everything down on,
destroys the ultimate façade
of humanity
in her effortless attempts
to understand the difference
the difference being noted by her superior
La la, la, the lark in question.
Will someone bring the arrow
and shoot that thing in the eye
For the sake of tranquillity.
The cantrabank is back.
Her inhuman desire to omit the change.
The change in her vocal chords is imminent.
Old red eyes is here.
Or are they blue?
I can never recall.
The cantrabank has left the building.
Escaped the human throng.
Lucky thing the cantrabank.
Remember back in the day.
Love, love, serenaded love and peace.
Remained true, and carefree.
Unlike ………………………
the war
`why it’s in full force?`
The
cantrabank
Cannnot
Sing
the
right
note.
Grasp the world.
The deflated world.
Full of pain
inside
Not the cantrabank.
Leaves on the track, do you remember that one? What a hoo ha that was, stop the train the leaves will make it slide and slip, chuff chuff, chuff, chuff, chuff, chuff…………......................... woo hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Seeking humanity is a pointless exercise.
It does not exist.
Or if it did, could it survive at this temperature.
This period of molten lava,
stirs inside my gut,
the soy sauce gut.
Cramp… deep inside, covers up the scars.
Expectations abound to succeed.
Reason removes the blindfold.
Still the world cannot see,
what it needs to see.
Simple acts destroy the brain.
I mean have you ever seen a mushy brain? Not a pretty sight really, not a pretty sight at all.
A dog is an interesting feature to have on your person.
Perhaps if Dylan noticed this, his Owl wouldn’t be so, so...lost for words.
Now mix that with the pussycat and we have a story.
Think on you muse and destroy the stream of thought.
Bla bla bla blaadiddy bla.
That awkward muse.
There’s no harp here, just thought, which can never be written down.
Down…down …down
Give me back my peace, my peace of mind.
In the playground bravery pills were administered.
Trying to forget the idea, an understanding of the world, easier said than done.
So say it then, say it loud and say it clear.
Some can imagine the pain which lingers.
Fatigue creates its own symptoms, dry mouth, being the worst.
What comes before is often the key to the future.
What if we know nothing about the past, does it mean
the future has…well, no future, for the individual I expect.
Must be a sad lonely feeling, to see nothing before you.
Blackness... oops sorry am I allowed to use that term?
The PC police will be here any second, won’t they?
Step back from the edge let them see you aren’t ready just yet.
Let them see that you have that extra piece, which will be released really, really soon.
It’s not quite time yet... I hope so anyway.
Famine, now there’s a strange concept.
Hunger must be a real bad experience don’t you think?
Feed the world, why don’t they then?
Is there enough to go round, surely there must be?
Damn that was a long gap, the gothic chap knew how that felt.
Becoming insane due to long periods of sanity, God, he must have felt rough.
Time’s a bugger don’t you think?
If I could have one minute alone with him, I would ask him what he meant.
There would be no backing out then, right on the spot he would be, yes right on the spot.
Staring from the bus window you spot a tree.
Do you ever feel sad in the knowledge that you may never see that tree again?
Years later the book you buy, `hi remember me I was that tree. `
`Really good to see you, I never thought I would get a chance to thank-you but you really made my day on that cold bus trip back in January`. What year was it again?
If the top soul leaves then it’s over, don’t attempt that vampire shit with me.
The meaninglessness of bare feet over glass.
You put him on a symbol, a moment of madness, a brief second of insanity
Nail pierced visceral bone, spear pierced, which allowed the blood to collect, deep fungicidal blood.
Venerated blood, enjoyed by millions.
But not him, never by him, it was his and you took it didn’t you, you did.
The last time I saw a rainbow I was ten or was it twelve I can never be quite certain.
It was a colourless sight all that red and orange and purple and green.
Monochrome to say the least, now where did I leave the sunglasses?
They send them back in boxes
Crates, packages, return to sender address UK.
As if we don’t have enough problems with the mail
Christ yes that’s the chap
Secular society then why do we reach for him, is he ever in?
When pain strikes he is the first port of call
I mean you can go for months, years even without as much as giving him a second thought
then one Wednesday morning around 10am you decide it’s time for a little chat.
Bit ironic really wouldn’t you say?
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