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People who know, know. The others, it really doesn't matter.

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It Really Doesn't Matter

You say your ugly, i say it doesn't matter.
You say you have a dark past,
i say it doesn't matter.
You say theirs overwhelming responsibility,
i say it doesn't matter.
I don't believe in walking away when things get hard.
In fact they are my spark to continue my march.
Through thick and thin where to begin.
You say you don't have a way.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say that you cant give back what you would like.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say, you say oh it really doesn't matter,
I live one day at a time.
Choices will be made that will save the day
but hurt me financially.
It doesn't matter Choice will be made
that will set me back in my expectations.
It doesn't matter,
It really doesn't matter.
Its well worth it.
To see the beauty that
you have placed before me.
Oh how its worth it.
To settle down and not be looking to be found.

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Emily Dickinson

I lived on dread; to those who know

I lived on dread; to those who know
The stimulus there is
In danger, other impetus
Is numb and vital-less.

As't were a spur upon the soul,
A fear will urge it where
To go without the spectre's aid
Were challenging despair.

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Erica Jong

People Who Live

People who live by the sea
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.

They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.

Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.

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We Who Grieve... (Lights The Way)

we who grieve are the children of journey,
we bear the scars of human failure.
our hearts are bruised, our backs are bent,
our feet determined and weary.

we who search the darkness to know the light,
who are the beat and hunger of human existence.
who cannot separate the suffering of those in need,
who know that walls are bridges not crossed.

we who stink of loss and sweat pure sin,
who enter the temples of the dispossessed.
who would love the unwanted whatever the cost,
whose god lives in the mirror of human eyes.

we who find wealth in lives discarded,
who know that truth has a thousand faces.
who follow the wind without destination,
who know the joy that wipes the last tears.

for we are yesterday, today, and tomorrow!
we are the dawn that comes in spite.
we are the fire in the barren cave,
we are the faith that brings the child....

the star of flesh that lights the way!

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The World Trade Centre Doesn't Exist Anymore

Two-thousand and one. Eleventh of September.
A day we will always remember
When the world watched a city go ablaze;
Two tall towers were what caught the people's gaze.

Planes had flown and crashed like a missile,
With tragic consequences proving absolutely vile.
Every person left stunned, many with tearful eyes,
Not very common under pleasant blue skies.

The Pentagon next, and then followed by a field;
Shame the innocent passengers had no shield
To save themselves from their fiery end.

Man had witnessed evil like never before,
And one to take responsibility was Osama Bin Laden,
Laying back and not participating - the coward,
Possibly laughing at those who wallow and sadden.

It was a terrorist attack, one never seen before;
Who knows what else Al-Qaeda have in store?
A brutally callous attack claiming the lives
Of nearly three-thousand and two,
Including Brian Dale, Mike Cahill,
Dong Lee, and Todd Beamer, too.

We will not forget those who were victimised
For such history is always memorised.
New York City is not the same as it was before
Because, as all broken-hearted people know,
The World Trade Centre doesn't exist anymore.

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People who know the least always argue the most.

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The tribulation period is seven years, and when the signing of the covenant occurs, people who know the Bible and take it literally will know that, seven years later, Christ is going to come in His power and glory.

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Louis Aragon

I demand that my books be judged with utmost severity, by knowledgeable people who know the rules of grammar and of logic, and who will seek beneath the footsteps of my commas the lice of my thought in the head of my style.

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Death without purpose

death for me I must embrace,
death for me, is a OK place,
For death waits for me with open arms,
For I have dealt death,
Death is now being dealt to me,
For I thought I had a Angel,
A savior,
The person who pick me up and gave me purpose,
A love I had thought I never imagined,
Now this is gone if you could only imagine,
You had my soul, now my soul is gone,
Who am I with out you? With out my soul?
With out you making me hole,
Now death is awaiting me with a smile,
No purpose, no love, no soul,
Life and death, death and life,
they stand side by side in the end,
For now death hands me its hand,
I don’t know who I am,
So death once again offers its hand,
Such a easy offer right at hand,
For its a easy answer,
For all I feel, death does seem the sure deal,
Sorrow, pain, heart ache, purposeless, loveless,
Hate for ones self, for all the things I have done,
This sure seems the answer,
Death looks at me with a glean in his eye,
He knows I am tempted to take the easy way out,
Is that such a terrible thing to have offered?
Do be tempted to take?
What else is there now left for me to take?
What else do I have to be taken now?
If this is the choice I make,
Don’t mourn for me for its to late,
Don t show me sympathy I have to shake,
Just let me go,
I choose this, not you, not your blame
Take my soul,
It is your, once always, and forever,
When the going gets rough,
Remember what I stood for,
For I can not stand for myself,
I can not take the this feeling I have inside,
I'm lost with out you by my side.
Will I be judged for the things I have done?
The sins I have committed?
Well in the end it really doesn't matter, now does it?
Now death is waiting patiently by my side,
Now as I lye here awake with a gentle shake,
I know what it is to have death on my side,
So now I say goodbye,
Death is taking me for a ride,

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Julia Roberts

I believe that two people are connected at the heart, and it doesn't matter what you do, or who you are or where you live; there are no boundaries or barriers if two people are destined to be together.

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The Morning of the Hurricanes

The Horsemen, holding broken reins
The Morning of the Hurricanes,
Sigh 'it's no use, it's all in vain,
The King will soon surrender'

The Bishops weep, the Rook's long gone,
And Pieces, pacing, pale and wan,
Watch Queen be ravaged Pawn by Pawn,
Her Knight dares not defend her

They wonder why they ever came,
They have No One that they can blame,
They have no face, they have no name,
They're black and white, transgender


The feeble minded Cleric clowns,
Mouths hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds,
While Fantom of the Opera frowns,
And follows dazed dissenters

The empty handed Vagabond
Smokes stale cigars, strokes faded Blondes
While wailing at the walls beyond,
And kneels before he enters

He's gaping through stained window panes,
While waiting for the Hurricanes,
He's spinning round and round in chains,
Attached to life's tormentors


The Savants serve the underfed
While Jackals jape at saws once said,
And Crows, collecting scattered bread,
Adorn, with crumbs, the platter

The Pirate whets his wooden leg,
With pupils dull and visage vague,
And if instead he's served the plague,
It really doesn't matter

His Princess, pale, no longer reigns,
She's hiding from, the Dwarf explains,
The coming of the Hurricanes
The Stones stare, pointing at her


The rustic clocks with spindled spokes
Remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
The time of day and other jokes,
But No One looks to listen

The Jokers wild and One Eyed Janes,
Weep, winding up the rundown trains
Mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
And Priests no longer christen

They're running round in marathons,
With cuckoo birds and dying swans.
While pitching pennies into ponds
Their eyes opaquely glisten


The Beggars, neath the balustrades,
With bitter Children, Chambermaids,
Are darning socks with broken spades
As screams in dreams redouble

They're spinning wool with endless threads,
Crocheting hats to hide their heads
They have no coats, they have no beds,
Their faces, full of rubble

But many things will not remain
The Morning of the Hurricanes,
When goblets filled with cool champagnes
Implode on purple bubbles


The White-Robed Maiden empties trash,
And fumbles with an untied sash,
- Her virgin urn's awash with ash -
She's pacing in the Palace

Her hopes converge in coffee spoons,
Her memories adrift in dunes,
Yet still she smiles with teeth like prunes,
And lips of painted callous

And long before the midnight drains
- The Saviour wakes, the Loser gains -
The waters of the Hurricanes
Will fill her empty chalice


The storm behind the clarinets,
The silver flutes, the castanets,
The foghorns belching in quartets,
The bagpipes, puffed and swollen,

Is keeping time to tambourines
While Tom Thumb and his Four-Inch Queens,
They curse themselves and philistines,
For time they've lost or stolen

They stumble through the old domains,
They cannot stop the Hurricanes -
The fountain weeps, the mountain wanes,
And sands just keep on rollin'


The Hunchbacks juggle twisted canes
And blanch before the Hurricanes
In melted sleet, in frozen rains,
In bruised and battered sandals

They'll groan within the land of gulls,
The land of stones, the land of nulls,
They'll crawl between the blackened lulls,
For Night Time brooks no candles

They'll pray to Dogs, while Nuns and Dukes,
Reflect on long forgotten Spooks -
It's really more than random flukes
That doors are lacking handles


The Crowds are throbbing in the jails,
Stooped, peering through a fence of nails -
The light within their eyeballs pales
With plastic flame that sputters

They're sleeping there because they must,
Their eyelids hang like peeling rust,
Their tears, palled pellets in the dust,
Behind the bolted shutters

They'll reawake without their pains
The Morning of the Hurricanes,
Without their sores, without their stains,
Their agonies will fill the drains
And overflow the gutters

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You Know The Liar Is You ‘

Lying is a human trait,
Some use them to hide the truth,
Small or large some cannot wait,
Despite it being so uncouth.

They'll lie to cover up mistakes,
They don't want others to know,
Lost info or a vase that breaks,
Problem is that lie will grow.

Some lie to enhance who they are,
Sometimes just to impress,
The next lie becomes even more bizarre,
The truth they must then compress.

If you forget that first white lie,
That's when mistakes will fester,
Soon you'll wish that you could die,
You'll be feeling like a jester.

Your memory must be really strong,
To keep all your lies intact,
If you forget you'll get it wrong,
That is a proven fact.

That one lie soon will change,
For the truth you'll have to smother,
Untruths you'll have to rearrange,
For one lie compounds another.

The money that you didn't steal,
That window you never broke,
Just think of how your victims feel,
When their ire you evoke.

That broken vase you lied about,
Your version soon gets lost,
Your honesty everyone will doubt,
You've deceived but at what cost,

A lie is like a smouldering ember,
You must keep it in your sights,
For come the time you can't remember,
That's when it ignites.

Those lies then become a fountain,
They're cascading everywhere,
That molehill's turned into a mountain,
That's a truth you'll find hard to bear.

Lies to you are all that matters,
Though they leave you feeling fraught,
Your reputation will be in tatters,
When not if you finally get caught.

When you look at your own reflection,
You will feel a sense of fear,
Your affair is nearing detection,
The time for truth is drawing near.

Before you know it things are out of control,
All your lies you've now forgotten,
You'll have dug yourself into a hole,
My God you'll now feel rotten.

You can fool people some of the time,
But you'll never fool them all,
Your reputation is what you begrime,
On your lies you will finally fall.

The problem with your lying deeds,
Is I can say without any doubt,
It's your false ego that it feeds,
That's until you are found out.

Remember those facts you try to disguise,
You're aware they're all untrue,
Ultimately they'll lead to your demise,

'' You Know The Liar Is You ''

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Who Would Know The Difference

Let's make it up as we go along.

'Make up 'what' as we go along 'where'? '

Whatever is going on!

'And...
That would be different than,
What? '

Pretending we know what we are doing,
With the attempts to convince others...
We have a clue.
We can still keep it to ourselves.
But at least we will feel better about it...
If we, you and I, stopped deluding ourselves.

'You know...
I didn't think of it that way.
Yeah!
What a concept.
Let's do it.
Let's make it up as we go along.
Who would know the difference at this point anyway? '

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You Know the Ones

Aren't you tired of the folks who pass judgement?
You know the ones...
Quick to tell you how you should live
Always taking handouts from those they take for granted,
Criticizing the people who take their time to give.

Aren't you sick of those who waste your time to gossip?
You know the ones,
Glued to phones like weapons,
To add fresh lies to what they've heard!
They are nowhere to be found,
To assist 'you' when you need 'them',
But first to arrive to offer a discouraging word.

Aren't you fed up with their lack of time to listen?
Don't you wish they would grow and want to learn?
Even though they blame others for their troubling lives,
They will never feel ashamed,
To express their own limits of concern!
A repeated lesson you have learned?

You know the ones...
With their heads turned!

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You Know, The Reflection You Don't Recognize

You know
its kind of weird
when you look
in the mirror
and cant decide
exactly who
you are really
looking at

You know
its kinda stupid
when you fall
to your knees
and pray
to a god
that you don't
even believe in

You know
its kinda rude
when someone says
that you've changed
into something
that isn't what
they want to
see anymore

and this is why
i'm standing here
in front of this
tainted mirror
thinking that
maybe there is
some truth
in their words

You know
what i mean
to say when
i try to explain
that i have
lost my image
in this reflection
that i see

You know
how it feels
to collapse to
a world that
engulfs you
into thinking that
you are not
what they wanted

You know
what its like
to feel defeated
day to day
by the little words
people say
that distort the
image in the mirror

and then i ask
do you know
how it feels
to stand and
see the reflection
of someone
that you don't
recognize in
a mirror of nothing
but yourself

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Where are the people , Who lived for others

Where are the people

Who lived for others

Cried for them

Laughed with them

Thought

More for others

Less for self

Suffered in pain

Never complained

Encouraged others

Lived for them

Died unknown

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Only Those Who Know Can Relate

Confinement plus isolation,
Equals awareness!
With an insight,
Unlike anything an open door...
And freedom to explore will allow!
Sometimes this experience comes enforced.
And then there are times,
When one finds life to be such a blessing!
Especially when one believes it is near the end.
Only those who know...
Can relate.
The others are still contemplating,
How to live it.
And by which prescribed medication...
Produces the best benefit!

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To know the past

You must know all about the people around,
Of the days gone by- who have traversed,
Of the paths you tread- who have erected,
The temples and the public places you use,
Whose hands were the cause for the fruits you eat,
And what bygone scenes of love, jealousy,
Revenge, treachery have been enacted
In the huts, the forts, the streets and the fields.
You must know the past and the people
As you expect to be known by days to come.

Inspired by Thomas Hardy- The Woodlanders
11.03.2008

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Some People Never Know

No one else will ever see
How much faith you have in me,
Only fools would disagree that its so,
Some people never know.
Like a fool Im faraway,
Evry night I hope and pray
Ill be coming home to stay and its so,
Some people never know.
Some people can sleep at nightime,
Believing that love is a lie.
Im only a preson like you, love,
And who in the world can be right
All the right time.
I know I was wrong, make me right, right.
Only love can stand the test,
Only you outshine the rest,
Only fools take the rest,
Only fools take second best, but its so,
Some people never know.

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Do You Know The Muffin Man?

Do You Know the Muffin Man
who visits every morn
who nothing does as nothing can
while ripening the corn?

wafting smells of syrup dreams
he teases on the breeze
but all is not just how it seems
beneath, we feel diss-ease.

The Muffin Man will steal the souls
of children by the score.
If they don't drain their cereal bowls,
he'll squeeze them to the core.

Don't let him fool you with his smile
his carefree happy dance,
if e'er you see him, run a mile
he only needs one chance

He preys upon the people who
would waste their breakfast fare,
so lick the bowl when you are through
or of the Muffin Man...beware.

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