The Promise

The illusion of the clouds,
Cannot fool my tender eyes,
The false guarantee of unconditional love
That was given to me as I took my first steps
Was a Picasso painting,
Even art can trick your mind.
I laugh at God,
For this exception did not feel her love,
Did not have the symmetry of a perfect society,
For this is the only achievement that has been made by my own hands
Defying all that was hoped from the righteous one.
So let me stare at the sky,
For now I know what the constellations hide,
Une diei ante,
And my final destination
Will be fulfilled.

Anonymous

I don’t need to stare
At these stars
To dream,
Because the sweetest dream
is reflected in my humble pupil.

Where love turns into fear,
Such emotions are too violent
For my heart to endure.
I keep on falling,
But with you
It is falling into a sea of rose petals.
But no human is perfect,
Yet why is it I see flawless perfection on your scarred
face?
If only you could sense,
The races of my heart,
When you smile
You would realise that nobody can love you
More than I can.

Poison

Such is the fateful inevitability,
Of a young heart,
to become infatuated
with the sensation of consuming
the sweetest poison.
A rare juxtaposition,
A black body, a liberated heart
Such a sacrifice,
That if given the seldom choice
She would accept a thousand more deaths
To feel life in her dormant body,
an addiction
satisfied,
a thirst that even water couldn't kill.
And in this last breath, she breathes a lifetime.
To live as you die
such is the hypocrisy
of true love.

A Poem about Andreas Larsson

All I know is that you’re the most crude
person that I have ever known.
There is such charm in your atrocious behaviours
As a look at you I see
A reflection of myself
Not even geographical distances,
Could separate the affinity that we share!
It is in my fortune that I met you,
and in my destiny that I become friends with you,
where life takes us from here,
is a thought which fills me with excitement,
but for now we shall continue our episodes of
animated amusement,
and general butchness,
until the day comes when we must part.

A poem about Marthe

Marthe,
A girl who symbolises the
Rarest humanity in
Today’s brutal world
Her eyes look out for the good in
Every tarnished person, a
Being so unique, that her presence makes you feel
loved in your conflicted life.
I don’t possess the
Knowledge to fully understand her, but I
Relish every moment we laugh together
And hope that I will know her for as long as I live.

A Poem About Carmen

A girl,
So complicated yet so pure
Pure is her heart which she detaches from the world.
A heart that possess such simplicity
And depths which cannot be seen from the surface.
When will she break free?
And embrace all that life has to offer.
I will wait for that day to come,
when she can show me all the treasures that she has hidden
in her beautiful mind

Balloons

No more waiting.
For someone who couldn't realise
the worth of gold.
Such is your shallow mind,
that you cannot see the beauty
in these brown eyes.

Shellshock!
Time teaches every lesson,
but yours will be too late,
and by then I will be so far
that when you try to touch me with your fingertips
you will feel nothing but the emptiness of the air.

Your eyes will see nothing but a million red balloons flying away,
to a place where they feel at home.

Frustration

Standing on a wall made from feathers.

How do I stop myself from free-falling
in a barren vacuum?
Where no two people speak the same language.
Where life has treated them like the prince of thieves,
who has stolen from the disgraced man,
a man who accepted his wife's betrayal
and tarnished children's veins.
If only I could believe in belief
but belief stems from confidence
which no slave can possess!

No muse

I am no muse,
My portrait hath not possess
The beauty of a thousand words
Beauty is in the eye of the blind
Beholder
Such is the reality that I possess

If it is not fate,
That lets my body brush the dormant sword
then righteousness has lost.
Lost in the endeavour to not let the past
Affect the morro’

As the rain becomes heavier on the Monday glass,
And the drops become stones,
Let my heart sink deep,
So I am protected from human nature
Let my heart harden,
So it will never feel again.

Confession

I see, you watching me
I am your enemy.
Point the smoking gun
Shoot the pebbles upon which my
Blistered feet stand.

His heart pierced by an army of loyal daggers
For the forgiveness of the grandest sin.
As do I place the precious lamb,
To be sold to a proud man,
For he is the blessed man
And this is to mark the honour of your
worthless existence.

To wish is a daydream of mine.
For you my eyelids will be shed,
Of all their wishes.

Her radiant hand,
Blesses the young souls of our lost generation.
His scriptures give the blind,
Eyes to stare into the heavens.
Your weapon is a house of bloody feathers,
That begs to defeat the power of belief,
But look into his eyes,
And realise that who he is
You will never be.

Les Miserables

Pop the glock,
Khushi ko de rastaa
The deceiving moonlight
On the pebbled path,
Spill the ruby
Cleanse Potsdamer Platz
The night, the fright
A shiver like
Lightning charging a million axons

Nostalgia, the key unlocks the heart shaped locket
Thought the power that tricks the invincible mind,
Where gold appears worthless,
Oceans cease to habitate the depths of life,
Love is just an inbalance of hormones.

In an artificial world,
The lost awakening of the sun
On the 24th of June 3001,
When innocence was dealt with blood.

Distorted eyes,
The clouds of laws that dictate how we live,
The curse that demands sacrifice of all humanity,
Sign our name on the dotted line,
and walk towards the dark hole.

But every dark cloud has its silver lining,
The neighbouring settlement,
An invitation to wine and dine,
Consume the ruby,
Splattered on the vacant walls,
Smell the scent of a thousand bullets,
Solve yourself,
Find yourself,
in a room of soul-catchers,
For your in Stanford now,
And it will all be over in 14 days.

Homo Sapiens

Golden brown stones,
stare at the,
battlefields of torn hearts,
no blinks.

The white flag burnt,
slaughter the dreaded option,
to conquer the sacrificed dream.
nature's game where once pure dove's flew,
posioned by the survival of our wicked morale.

Slither and attack
to win that loss,
to gain what is in his fake eyes.
False congratulation will be with you forever,
so be glad,
for you are now what you always wanted to be.

Hors de Prix

From the corner of my eye,
Glistens like a cluster of newborn stars in newborn hands,
The attire of a god-like creature
enchantment of the highest order,
If diamonds could see the perfection that has been blessed on these eyes of mine,
they would scream of envy
for they will appear a shadow,
scratched, scorn, stripped,
of all beauty.

He smiles at me on the corner of the street.
Hypnotised I sleep walk to him
as he slowly gains authority within my lifeless existence,
I feel alive.
Closer, Closer like a treasure chest awaiting to find its keeper,
Desperation to unlock the holy code.
The sound of bustling coins,
a sign of wealth.
I realise.

Like a Russian doll, he hides his unbespoked identity
under the rapture of dirty wealth.
Should I be afraid?
Why have I never felt such a calm?
Dark Clouds blot the portrait of a girl,
surrounded by the sky which has forgotten tranquility,
machinery which has tormented the simplicity of life,
pale like a ghost.
My heart trembles.

The Holy Blanket

Don’t separate the spectrum
For a peacock blue,
Eyes cannot see the sun,
That you have erased
And seized in your shadowed heart
You cannot steal the move
From the 36th cube,
Soulful lies never lose their identity
Even if encapsulated in a velvet bow oyster
For the 9 months of life,
In an 19 year old story,
I thank you.
Now your life begins.