Sensitive Say-my-Name fell handless down grubby stairs
cringing every limb in pain
of a hit really not that hard
Bell me the love please
Lease my the love
Bell me love
Ring no please
when Sensitive Say-my-Name cries, she don´t look pretty
not pretty at all
It´s too much of a cry
They cannot take it
Lick tears rid of face, the taste not even salty

Brothers of five
the last one has big eyes and a leaping tongue
He does not have same talent as the olders
He make friends through others names
the names He knows,
Perhaps a little
But He is good,
He is a good cook of lies
the Meal is mixed with unknown distans and stories
Good stories

Now Sensitive you-know-who bades in compliments
She cannot get clean like that
Itchy mind with burned tips of finger
softly memorised linger round same chunk of words
To make happy feeling come and stay
Move rest in chest to peace of mind
Then freeze human kind so Sensitive-Say-my-Name may live without fear of hurt

Little brother sways in the sea of confidence
with no bath ring around his arms or legs,
His mama owns a pub
He loves Christmas
Mama of brothers of five make soup for the homeless
they might get ale too
Then they are lucky homeless
What does he make
Oh, He makes
But never without showing all around
He needs pats of appreciation
To know

Ms.Sensitive shortened her name not to be offensive to the verbally dyslexic people
No trouble please
She knows
She is all trouble
She bades in it
Bubbles of trouble
She can never be clean
No help needed
Never been
Always the never
Sensitive-Say-my-Name should go to bed and wake up with a smile
She knows

Brother of five should talk less
Then his words would come out with finesse
He knows

She knows it again
Plaster of knowledge comes in funny colours
Like neon Jesus
Perfect for burned tips of fingers gathered in pray

They joined the Party of Prays
Each one on their own
One for one
All for All
None for the Lone

Grubby stairs
Big eye ball boy stares
Look at girl fall down

We all gonna go there

it´s only a natural curiosity

I am not exploring death

cc found a spot for me to dwell on this matter

Crossbone Graveyard

for the outcasts to rest in peace

only found recently when building jubilee line round there

the big mountain of bones

smallest baby bones

bones from women whilst alive selling there bodies,
for manly treats
the bones from outcasts
the band
the bastards
the none believers
the top believers
you know, those ones

my silver skeletons & copper sculls.....

Anyway, sweeties for oldies, charged 10% less on tuesdays in Whitstable...something to look forward to......

halloweenytweenyparty

arrived with direction home

softly trash halloween mdma bruises cuts selfinflicted by roofclimbing

new hair new life for a night

left much later with wip resting round waist & tophat from a clown

Taj´s shoe in Whitestable seafront

I salute grey

grey is the best!

it harms the nature the least as a colour

& it´s not vain

sleep&the wakenings

slept with candid eyes of desire

sure slow fever feeble fire

burned dream after dream

like evil child with matchbox at hand

all lite light

very much too bright

i went boooom bAng

off like a gun

just like that

and killed all fun

claw strings harder the tensions insane

hopes and heart sinks like deatchchained men

hang

from rusty anchors of neglect

or simply reject

close those eyelids real thight for the love potion he drops every night

blink away

the blur

molded under his palm i lure

everyone knows of my ship left in shallow water

keep sleep keen

be as nice as you can be

of that i´m sure

i´m not sure..drop the anchor of reject (no regret) & heart set sail for new adventures of that i´m sure

...sure

lullaby bye

bye

the tissuies of wishes

i have lazy hopes that fingers of steel will continue to play and make forms, forever all i wanna do, yeah that´s all, i do not want to pay bills or speak to people about my phonebill or tell people what they should buy to make happiness
might get married to some kinda sponsor an old professor who believes in my head cause it´s so full of secrets and sometimes get so so empty it can take in more of the other worlds for a greater understanding or for the making of rubbish torouettes tickling words on my tongue
like south park episode when cartman discovers the wonders of speaking freely to let your tongue spit out the words the brain hovers over like some kinda hackney gettobird to watch over the mess and make sure it wont slip out....
but the brilliance of the body working and making, slipping fingers making tunes carving shapes is like an inital fingery tourettes, an outlet,but with time to ponder, it springs from outlet to project, which leaves an ohhhh-feeling, re-life re-live re-think
the body tissuie makes incrediable wishes for to do only so..