From head to hand uniquencybyJilly
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YOUR SHOUT
When you shouted at me I would shout back at you
When you lifted your voice I got louder
When you showed me a face full of anger and rage
Then you looked like you couldn't be prouder
To make me feel stupid or helpless or small
So I'd make a face too, start a real free-for-all
Where we'd try to outdo, usurp and prevail
The pattern repeated, got pointless and stale
When you wielded your fist and moved in really close
I'd resort to defenses and lunge
But when twist turned to squeeze and grab turned to punch
I played dead and succumbed like a sponge
To soak up abuse, take whatever you'd give
Accept you don't care if I die or I live
I'd hide all the evidence, say I'm to blame
For stirring you up, for igniting your flame
Now, when you shout at me I keep out of your way
And I try not to put a foot wrong
Give you space and respect, then lay low and reflect
How I must free myself before long
I'll be quiet and good, know my place, know my fear
I will serve and I'll wait holding back every tear
Till I'm safely alone, even though that is rare
I'm a hostage, a victim with no way to share
And I wonder how something so wonderful came
To a point where we lost all the trust
Now it's hard to remember the love that we had
Oh please, when did beauty get thrust
Into hatred, resentment, abuse and conceit?
I know I should shop him or leave that deadbeat
But I can't find the strength to see reason, get out
So I'll just bite my tongue... hold my breath when you shout.
Psychedelic Thoughts
Don’t want to work or socialise with superficial, petty guys
Don’t want to do the daily chores, it’s too much effort fighting wars
Don’t need to wash or eat and drink, I’d sooner sit around and think
So when I’m cornered by conformity
I know in my head I will always be free
Why waste the voyage wondering how your mortal ship will sink
Don’t focus on the moment when there’s better things to think
’cause I can always open up my mind
to visions of a psychedelic kind
I can look beyond the things I see
to new horizons deep inside of me
Brighter, louder, more intense
delving into seventh sense
Nothing is inanimate, a timeless time, a dateless date
Amorphous shapes with heightened hue
They breathe, they speak, I listen to
a choir of pitch beyond my ears
regressing and transcending years
of stunted growth where I’d conform
to human paradigms of norm
that caged me in with bars of fear
where nothing’s real and nothing’s clear
The glass is big, the glass is small, the spirit dances through the wall
I’m 10 ft high then 1 inch tall, I’m nothing yet I’m all
The square is round, the circle square, I smell the sound and drink the air
The serpent dances with the bear, I’m nowhere yet I’m there
Why waste the voyage wondering how your mortal ship will sink
Don’t focus on the moment when there’s better things to think
Chemical Reactions
There’s a bubble in my mind full of noxious air
and it’s squeezing my thoughts ’til there’s nothing there
‘cept the shifting gas swimming round my head
’til my brain explodes, and my face is red
with the splattered blood of a million hopes
now a dried up mass of heliotropes
that flowered once in a fertile brain
will they ever grow and flower again?
There are rocks in my lungs and they’re rooted hard
so I cannot breathe, all the air is marred
by the dust of life and the dirt of sin
so there is no way to let goodness in
And I’m laden down with the weight of stones
as the calcite spreads to my weary bones
’til they harden stiff like fragile rods
held in the fingers of judgemental Gods
There’s a sponge in my heart that is soaked with tears
and they drip like ink on a page that smears
all the love I had to an ugly stain
that I cannot shift, so it will remain
a reminder of the mistakes I made
as the dreams rode off in a cavalcade
while I waved goodbye, and my sodden heart
has no room to beat and no will to start.
Bowling Balls
You rolled your eyes with such accuracy they demolished me in a single strike.
The motion was smooth, the arc and swing perfection and the delivery straight from the hip.
That glance you threw had more power than a physical slap. Do you have a foul detector that lights up your pupils when I overstep your narrow margins?
And from your tongue, a “Tut” that rebounded off my bumpers to finally slice away any remnant of pride left standing.
Every lane reverberated from the pressure you pushed into those pointed consonants, and in my ears the echo of that click of annoyance still haunts me like endless tinnitus.
Do you have so much hate inside it must escape from your eyes and mouth before you explode?
Why am I always in your line of fire even when I constantly stand behind you?
Your bench work is supreme, practice has paid off. You play like a sharply focused alley cat.
I am a guttersnipe, rolling pointlessly towards failure in your eyes.
I choke in fright,
my wood is light
with thumb and fingers locked in tight,
yet still I’m subject to your spite
You’re a ‘top rank’ cranker who blew my rack
and I’ll never have the chance to get that winning ball back
Fetish Anyone?
Do you have a fetish, you wouldn’t be alone!
Are you too shy to tell for fear of lowering the tone?
When you see that trigger do you go into the zone?
I bet you have a fetish… like a doggy has a bone
Is your fetish deviant or common as a cold?
Do you know a private place where sexual props are sold?
I’d like to hear about your thing if I may be so bold
Whatever turns you on I think it’s time the truth were told
Is your fetish hair, an obsession that ain’t rare
Do blondes or bangs or redheads make you fizz
Or maybe prickly stubble will get you into trouble
a shiny dome or a short and curly frizz
Is your fetish rings and things attached to a body part
or do you think that tattoo ink is a provocating art?
Starting at the bottom, could feet be your fixation
a little pinky toe can lead to much anticipation
Stick it in a pointy shoe with straps and 6 inch heels
or maybe boots up to the thighs, do you like how that feels?
Talking of those leather goods, they’re sadomasochistic
something black or a whip to crack is very animalistic
Blindfolds, chokers, blow up dolls, restraints and things that beep
Is it danger or regression that makes you scream or weep
Are you into latex, fur, plastic, silk or rubber
Does a large industrial glove make you say “Hubba hubba”?
Maybe licking postage stamps or eating bugs off strips?
Blood, sweat, glue or uniforms or juicy pumped up lips?
Tickling or spanking, nibbling an ear….
Oh tell me, what’s your fetish… I’d really love to hear.
IF ONLY I ?
If only I had the slightest bait of appealing motivation offered to me
I would bite it of the hook until my gums bled.
If only I found the weakest ember of an idea worth fanning
I'd blow until my cheeks exploded.
If only I got the slightest whiff of enticement
I'd inhale until my lungs burst.
If only I had access to any original flavour
I would let it sit on my tongue, seep into my bloodstream and travel to my brain until the nerve endings buzzed like sparklers on the 4th of July.
What The Dickens
On my shelf there stands a book, I read it once back when
I flirted with the classics, I had more patience then
The other day I spotted it, with worn and faded cover
the title is an ear-worm for a serious Dickens lover
Martin Chuzzlewit - I never tire of saying it
The name alone will conjure up a story for the open mind
a character with character in matters of a literary kind
Of selfishness and villainy, satirically meant to be
the best that Dickens ever wrote
less popular by public vote
The plot was changed and re-arranged yet still it fails to float their boat
Martin Chuzzlewit - I never tire of saying it
Nobody today could wear a handle so uniquely rare
chuzzle, nuzzle, solve the puzzle - noun or verb or do we care?
Does one chisel with a chuzzle, elbow grease or lick and spit
It could be a stupid name, save that it's followed by a wit
And what of Martin, not a match unless the psyche's split
Martin Chuzzlewit - I never tire of saying it
Perhaps the tease is in the Zees a fuzzy, wuzzy letter
I doubt that any other name could ever sound much better
Thomas Pinch, Tigg Montague, Mr Chuffey, Sarah Gamp
The Pecksmiths and the Spottletoes of candlewax and musty damp
The silliest name that quill can spill by shadow of a spirit lamp
Martin Chuzzlewit - I never tire of saying it
Scoop
Whatever you trod in years ago still clings relentlessly
Repeated gouging stimulates a latent pungency
Once fresh and pliable now a moulded pile more liable
to cramp your fragrant style
Wash away the odious dust until both soles are free
that stubborn, offensive crust beneath your feet . . .
is me
Summer is a state of mind
Summer is a state of mind, it doesn’t actually have to be
Imagine sun in cloudless sky, pretend you’re lying by the sea
There you are, exposed and glowing, feel your feet in soft, warm sand
It will be enough just knowing life’s on hold with nothing planned
~~~
Summer is a state of mind, think it’s August, think it’s hot
Close your eyes and you’re transported to a place where truth’s forgot
Let your body float on water, crystal pools or salty brine
Stretch your long bare arms to Heaven, dip your lips in cool French wine
~~~
Summer is a state of mind, as you see it, so it is
You are young and fresh and happy, life has meaning, life has fizz
Walk through meadows rich with flowers, sit by streams that gurgle past
Let your heart ascend that hill where Summer’s yours to love and last
~~~~
Feel the Summer, shake the cloud from your mind
Let it happen deep inside, there’s a seasonable change you’re about to find
Song spoilers
Some songs will grab attention like a streaker at a game.
But pretty soon the wobbly bits will start to hang in shame.
Some songs indulge in foreplay, they tempt you and they tease
But they don’t get down to business, it’s just themselves they please.
Some songs will come on heavy, they really do your head in
Full of fat and juicy gravy but no room to dip your bread in
Some songs are filled with angels, it’s rude to turn away
But for a touch of devilment it’s Hell you’ll have to pay
Some songs touch perfection, they just stand out a mile
With a musical erection that oozes quality and style.
Some songs will pull your heart strings and take you back in time
But you’ve been there too often, like the Christmas pantomime
Some songs are plucking genius, you listen mouth agape
But after 14 minutes you’re begging for escape.
Anchored by Light
Dearest tree, you stand forlorn
Rooted still were you were born
Are you up or are you down
Barely clothed in watery gown ?
Branch or virtual root alike
Barb for barb and spike for spike
Echoing trail of jagged capes
As I behold a maze of shapes
A diamond, then a star appear
Yet not a single curve or sphere
Your angular, venous anatomy
refected in oceans of flattery
Are you a ship without a sail
Anchored by your liquid tail ?
On your head or on your feet
Where to end and where to meet
Inside out or outside in
Where to end and where begin
Half immersed yet breathing still
Is your cry for help too shrill ?
I see you twice but cannot hear
Nor can I save you Tree, my Dear
Willow, don't weep
Be happy, hang loose, no need to creep
Willow, don't whine
No resentment can be thine, only the evergreen shall pine
Willow, don't sob
Pull your drapes 'gainst prying eyes or some unruly mob their injurous stones to lob
Precipitation be your wine, rich soil your daily bread
Dry your tendrils, blow your leaves and smile for us instead
Azalea Trail
There was a wild azalea, she lived beneath a tree
Her life seemed like a failure, not a soul could find or see
The beauty in her blossom or her sweet exotic scent
A neglected rhododendron with her shameful head all bent
Every year she flowered, pink, magenta, crimson, cream
Her buds were tight as babies fists, she gushed like sunlit stream
But no-one ever picked her or stopped to touch and sniff
For sadly she had toxic roots, a fact that was no myth
She'd stun and slowly poison every thing that crossed her path
She gained a reputation as a floral sociopath
But she was just protective of her right to grow and thrive
And surely there's no other way that she could stay alive
The called her ostentatious, they harshly cut her back
This rampant little plant lived on the wrong side of the track
Bountiful and brilliant, delicate yet strong
I'll bailya out azalea by writing you a song
Oh Azalea... you're not a failure... I'm gonna hailya like a queen
Oh Azalea... in your regalia... the most attractive I have seen
Oh Azalea... I will unveilya... gorgeous and unique appeal
Oh Azalea... I swear I'll trailya... from the hills of Himalaya to the festivals of Texas and the cotton candy dancing maids parading in Mobile
Hortensia
Are you a paper pom pom, you surely can't be real
Your pretty nodding mop head makes me smile
The nature of your beauty is lavishly surreal
Oh let me stand and watch you for a while
You float atop the evergreen, tissue soft and pillowy
Breathing in the scented air, your starry hair so billowy
Thirsty little madam, you sip the April rain
Until you taste full bodied August wine
In truth I would compare thee to a sparkling champagne
Big bubbles of sweet tastefulness combine
Your dainty petaled plumage grows in every shade plus white
My perfect origami rose, your harmony is tight
Within your lace a naive grace belies a vanity
Were you a geisha girl in old Japan
Serving dainty mallows with delightful piquancy
You bow and flutter like a feather fan
Hortensia, Hydrangea or any other name
You understand what makes my love-heart beat
I'm grateful for your being, never hang your head in shame
'tis I who should be falling at your feet
Camillea
Camellia, you're really a most chic and joyful flower
A Venus born in God's sweetbrier
Became a token of desire
I'd have no reason to deny a love for such a fragrant power
You paint the hills with rainbows of incandescent light
Gentle curves that catch the Sun
Blemish free as virgin nun
Diaphanous like daydreams spun on magic looms at night
Your loving cups of petals are symmetrical perfection
Blushing comely maidens cheeks
Huddled in your girlish cliques
A prettiness that almost speaks, posed proud for close inspection
Flamboyant silken goblets hold firm your precious seeds
Like lovers arms embracing
To set the pulses racing
An everlasting place in Natures annals guaranteed
The Kurt Cobain Question
In 1994 Kurt Cobain he was no more
The details of his death were very hushed
Conspiracies abound since the day that he was found
Did he leave by his own hand or was he pushed
With a shotgun cross his body and a note that lay beside
They assumed his mental state had led poor Kurt to suicide
There has been much speculation, it continues to this day
With a lot of vested interest many folks have had their say
But it seems his darling wife may have shortened Cobain's life
There was history of battles, drugs and hate
She had hired a PI to track down the tortured guy
There were question marks about his sorry state
Lack of fingerprints and blood, the pen, those locks that should
Have raised doubts upon the verdict right away
But for every accusation, seems there was an explanation
And undoubtedly some liars in the fray
We all know that Rock star's lives, their fans, their friends, their wives
Can be passionate, extreme and slightly crazy
Life expectancy is short, scandal is a media sport
But the details in this case are rather hazy
Was he filing for divorce in the days before his death?
Did he plan to leave his wife and take his dough?
Did she try to hire a killer like some drama laden thriller?
We can speculate but we might never know
Does it even matter now if they jail the crazy cow
for he's gone and we can never get him back
but his music carries on just as if he'd never gone
Violent murder? Suicide?... or too much smack?
Freestyle or Futile
In the mainstream of life there are Islands of Hope
Where they cling to the Rocks of Grim Death
They call themselves Indies, they swim without rope
As the Tide of Mundane steals their breath
And nobody sees how their struggle ain't working
Cold fingers will soon lose their grip
In The Sea of Confusion the iceberg is lurking
To sink all their dreams as they slip
But they're not independent, just beach bums transcendent
Who wait for a lifeboat of joy
With no reason to be they will flounder at sea
Pedaling water for ever - Ahoy!
They call themselves Indies, these Bruce's and Cindys
Whose soggy wet flares will misfire
Give up your sad quest, you are just like the rest
And you'll soon meet your St Elmo's Fire
Out of sight, out of mind
Like Schrodinger's cat it's a mystery
As long as it's hidden away
Don't open the box labelled HISTORY
If you are a rare popinjay
For all the detritus inside you
Takes space you can no longer fill
The junk in your head will provide you
With reasons to hate or to kill
So rub in the oil of ablution
Throw sand on the sparks of regret
If there is no other solution
Believe that it ain't happened yet
As long as a thought is frustrating
As long as a silence is LOUD!
A thought tomb is always awaiting
So wear an aluminum shroud
A Virtual Pandemic
Twisted minds and fat behinds - faceless nerdy friends
Joining gangs where victory hangs in landscapes without ends
Playing games with warlike names and weaponry to harm
Setting scenes in virtual dreams, disturbing inner calm
Cyber Space, the only place that holds the master key
Locked into a website zoo with bars they cannot see
There is no break from sleep to wake as day morphs into night
Their avatar is who they are, in constant fight or flight
They curse and bitch, this nagging itch to play uninterrupted
Too late for rules, these helpless fools are totally corrupted
The Bigot Tree
Three little bigots in a big bigot tree
each waiting for the other ones to fall
A small minded bigot, a high minded bigot
And a bigot with no mind at all
The small minded bigot was petty and weak
He wavered when new breezes blew
The high minded bigot climbed up to the top
Looking down on the other two
But the no minded bigot went out on a limb
There was something decidedly scary 'bout him
He threw himself off, without fear, on a whim
His reasoning powers were twisted and slim
Was he a martyr or was he just dim
He knew that the outcome would be pretty grim
... but that's what they told him to do!
killing Time
I told him how to kill himself, to take away the pain
to drive his car into a wall and never feel again
I said it would be easy, quick, he had so much to gain
I didn't understand his mind, the demons in his brain
I thought my words would snap him out of his depressive mood
Some slick reverse psychology, a blase attitude
I didn't see the danger, my method was too crude
and how my joke suggestions would be literally construed
I thought he was a stronger man, made of sterner stuff
and my remarks were casual, entirely off the cuff
But I was too provocative, he thought I'd called his bluff
He took my shallow words to heart, he'd simply had enough
I thought that I was killing Time with harmless repartee
But Time wins out in every race, it lies in wait for me
Staring into emptiness, resigned to destiny
I'm honour bound to killing Time 'cause Time's my enemy
We cannot play with people's lives, we are not qualified
Old Nick finds work for idle tongues, that's how my best friend died
Oh I have lost so very much and I have lost the will
to carry on alone in life with nothing to fulfill
The future crawls on hands and knees, I cannot catch it still
but I am life's assassin and Time is mine to kill.
Nitpickers
Hey you, picky little stickler, you're so punctilious about trifles. You're like a monkey picking out lice during monkey business.
My house may look amazing but they focus on the dust
I buy myself a vintage car, they can't see past the rust
My hair can look fantastic, but there's lipstick on my teeth
They must lift up my works of art to see what lies beneath
Nitpickers with their knickers in a twist
They'll keep on picking nits because they really can't resist
They point out every pointless slip, each trivial mistake
Stop scrutinizing me you petty freak, for Heaven's sake
They wrongly think I'd want to know, they're "doing me a favor"
If I need that kind of help I'll surely ask
They're dedicated to the cause and they will never waiver
Guess someone has to do this thankless task
Finding fault in detail seems to be your raison d'etre
You're such a big gnat strainer, a pedantic martinet
Why do you kill the moment, why can't you let it slide
Are you a Grammar Nazi, can't you see the picture wide
I write a heartfelt letter to tell them how I feel
but the spelling and the typos turn out to be the deal
Their eyes ain't on the main event, just sideline happenings
If I were and angel they'd find spinach in my wings