Is That Just My Ego Talking? Or Is That My Friends?

My ego is in charge,
But never in control,
Of those two other forces,
That call my head home.
Ones quite introverted
The other is simple just not.
And the me in-between
Remains, not forgot.
But Ignored by these two counter parts
Who pay the third no heed.
One interpretation of this will listen
And the other two won't.
because I'm just not a weed...

Dove Love

One day a dove flew down to sit with blue birds upon a tree.
It sat in the middle of them all shining brilliantly.
The dove then followed the blue birds every were they might go,
the blue birds did not mind the extra company.
the blue birds began to circle where they flew,
same trees, same wires never anything new.
Same gates and houses.
And the dove followed along,
it knew no better, never sang its own song.
Until one day it saw another dove
atop a roof it had never seen
And so took wing to where the other dove sat, sat and was his queen
Sitting contently for some time the doves sat in silence,
apart from the rest.
Finally the other dove burst into motion a flew away suddenly.
Abandoned by the one who had been such inspiration
the dove blankly sat
for some time until the realisation occurred....
that much like herself the other dove had also discovered something new.

Thump Thump

Thump thump,
Tingling arms and thriving wrists.
At night, the ringing begins.
Thump thump,
A squeaking noise is heard
And the knot ties a little tighter tonight.
Thump thump,
Suddenly curled up In a ball.
Another sleepless dream.
Thump thump,
The seconds are now hours.
Nothing changes the fact there is no break in down stairs.
Thump thump
The darkness rises
veins cry out in agony.
Until it slips, an dark turns into light.
Thump thump,
Thump, thump
Thump. Thump.

Charlie

Charlie and the Irish man came to my house
arriving and asking for music,
So we sat and played for some time.
Until Charlie left

Phenylalanine

Walk on past the old street,
Beyond the stone courtyard,
The road eroding quietly
Becomes my daily path.

Couches, floors an sleeping mats
Make my bed tonight,
A different place a different light,
For my eyes to close to,
Complete me with the serenade,
Voices from the box,
Lights flash from front,
and then from back,
Until my head is off

Phones begin to speak to me,
from within the machine.
Who's at what end of what line,
which line do you defend.
With time I'll try and send again,
but noises stop the feed.
The message stops when winds on top.
Which line do you defend.

Confushan

Know thyself
Go placidly and with grace.
Follow footsteps of those
Chosen to be admired with great self assurance and determination.
Do not fall to the pressure of those few who would mis lead you.
Take upon your self only the task of self respect and the rest will surly come with ease.
Develop ones self a personal level of maturity and thoroughly linger there until fully assured of your own readiness to step into the circle beyond.
The maker only knows how many circles must be crossed.
Upon the final crossing ,the monsters beneath sleep will be relieved, purged from the physical.
Prana lies an open pool, black where blackness once was.
Know thyself, for thyself
And not readily buy advice from those who would talk a tell tale temptation

Honest to God

I could say any number of extra ordinary things,
Like my heart yearns for her.
But in truth I am in pain for the memory,
the weight of "what if" forcing down behind each hammer blow.
I don't expect you to relate,
But I want you to understand
That these feelings are not a reflection on my compassion or adoration.
They are twinned double with regret And immeasurable cowardice.
No my heart does not yearn,
It weeps