My eyes r 1

My eyes have grown accustomed to the


Invade, occupy, destroy.

My eyes have grown accustomed

To the diseases that haunt our souls.

Lab-coated breakout in the cold room?

Read it.

Dance to the deformity. Dance to the

Conformity that is too hard too sell.

Watch where you stand.

On a point, at a fork in the road,

On a grain of sand

In an hour glass falls.

My eyes have seen the gory calling

In a last desperate act of defiance.

3 found dead.

Power and pride. Prestige comes calling with a

Little tin cup. A desperate calling

For sale.

Feel free here, to prose sporadically,

A rhapsody to the excess,

Nonsensical distress.

Doing what I of are are left.

Doing what you of them are right.

Holy Holy Holy Trinity – time set to rhythm

Dance… dervish a strong set time.

Dance the conformity two steps.

Comically in distress.

The tragic Mulatto…twist and shout.

Do remember the .44 .

The sons of Sam looking back at the future saying “there’s

Something evil about these people, make socialism seem like a good idea.”

This is the end of an era for the pretenders

To the throne.

Power and prestige with their little

Tin cup.

Basement debasement.

My eyes have grown weary.


The virus of language

Holy Holy Holy.

My eyes r 1.

Painting the pale suns hands with golden light.

We replace the old.

Obsolescence, it’s not a question of need.

From Mumbai ( Bombay ) to Thailand

The revolutionary lights are

Bridges of fire

Smoke signals to the blind indifference and

My eyes have grown weary.

Climbing new lows; I paint

Pale hands gold with fire

There are no concessions to manoeuvres

It is no longer a question of need

From Bombay to Thailand

Light shines on bridges of fire

Shine on…

Shine on till you can see inside your soul.

Trees fall … time standing barring, barking at the other side of the doors

Of perception

Of heaven and hell … insert Huxley Haiku here…

This sick old world prediction

Has not grown still.

Calendar screams in the night

On time of course

In an hourglass falls.

Eyes grown weary

Do remember the 5th of November

Do remember the summer of Sam.

Is it wise?

When push comes to shove; to not shove back?

My eyes r 1 with

A world in death-throws

As you hide behind your hedgerows

Wearing your sexual rosary.

You become the daisy chain.

There is a state of disillusion in this new Jerusalem

Crossing the red dead sea desert for a new perspective

A new direction or lost for forty years

Doomed to forget a recent past where

The streets are alleys are filled

With trash.

Paved over reclamation.

Pisshole paradisio.

I found it.

“The Misanthropic lure of Luxury is

A false promise of individuality on

A world that confuses

Political liberty with

Shopping” *

How about you

Viral words

Will set you free.

Viral words will set you free

Viral words set you free.

Stop motion… full stop.

Dark souls wander alleyways. Your

Options have narrowed

Frailties future found.

Found in pretty petulance.

Pretty pretty petty

Standing in the way of consciousness. Between the future stand

Between the you and me. So tell me

Are you the electric messiah?

· * The part was found on a great blog called Nuzz Prowlin Wolf. It was no credit so I will credit my usage of it to the Author of Nuzz Prowlin Wolf.