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Friday, April 27, 2012

Tides of Time D.A, Survivor Style


Blast from the past...found it on my MySpace page


Tides of Time D.A Survivor Style
 The nightmare that once began, stripped my soul to a slogged out mush of emptiness, and left 

me drowning in a sea of diarrhoea,
Flailing helplessly, against the tides of life, 

unable to form a thought for all the horrendous sights and smells continuously filled my head, all 

the nonsense of the dulled out crap of the lower echelons,
horrified my soul.
Sinking fast beneath the waves of Missing Personalities Incorporated,
half eaten by the sharks of night time thoughts, 

lungs filled to bursting until my head explodes and all hope so nearly lost.
Clothes hanging like a tramp, skin paled to a deathlike greyed out pallor with the eyes of 

ghosts of eons passed, 
shoulders worn beneath the weight of those so undeserving of the breath within their ungrateful 

bones,

ears unwelcoming the sound of the circling gulls ready to pick the leather from the aged hands 

of the crone upon the driftwood bones of youth.
The flickering spots of light along the far off distant coasts, vanish under the touch of the sight of 

the weary eyes, changing constantly as hope would randomly appear, as a mirage to the 

dehydrated induced dead of the desert sands, and all is lost.

Unconscious now to the reality of the superficiality of all that is as it would appear, holed up in 

the Hollywood colours of the Twenties, within a mind reluct to think for in thoughts untouched 

sits the untouched truth of the One who sits on claim to all created within the ancient world, 

unable to conceptualise the hardness of the modern Sea of Shite.

Until at last war weary from the fight of time upon the waves, beneath the ocean bed, of years 

damn near three, drift into the unchartered shallowed waters of the Sea of Redemption, until 

before me stood one saviour, most unholy, most unlikely was he who took me by the arm and 

slowly led me inward,

leaving all of that which I did never recognise behind. He who thought and taught and thought 

again until now I could realise the release of the Bath Time Water, to sit upon the limescaled 

rock which grew within my heart to slowly form the bricks and blocks with which I built my 

fortress upon the sturdy ground of New Land.
And what a mighty castle I did build, would bring a smile to Simon or Garfunkel as I too fill it with 

my books, my poetry and too, all that which would appear to beautify the ugly structure of all the 

most horrendous bags and bowels and broken bridges of all those who walk around its moat.
I sit and watch the world walk by in ordered fashion offering itself as on a catwalk, 

a sale which it has yet to sell to a cynical and unrepenting heart,

I fear it all as yet again I see the approach of yet another Tsunami, created not by others, 
but by the diarrhoea of all that which I have yet to flush away, sending it across the Sea of 

Forgiveness to the Land of Forgetfulness, which rests within a pantheon unknown as of yet, 

to those without a boat in which to set it to sail.

So now alone without the assist of others, I in all my lonely tears of time,
shall  wear my hands with work unsuited to the soul, tearing down the walls, not using fists or 

teeth, more love for those still as yet undeserving, but only in their own unknowning of the 

marvel that lies within their own eternal soul, ready to appear at the genuine light of a smile 

offered for no other purpose but to please, and so life continues.
And over a thousand times a thousand more slowly in the unmaking than in the construction, it 

shall eventually be a rebuilt mansion of sorts, upon the foundation it shall remain, 
yet high above the ever changing tides, 

I shall yet untie the thousand tiny coloured silk ribbons, 
strangling, binding, cutting through the downy flesh, eternally holding, unseverable even by the 

sharpest force,
until at last unbound, untied, unbuilt, all of that, over which I never had control,

shall finally of its own accord assemble on the sea, a ship in which it now shall sail itself to 

lands unknown, 
to leave the terrified heart behind in peace, ready at last to allow the flow of all that once upon a 

time may yet be seen or felt so deep within.
It's time to smile as the untamed, untrained woman of night, after all the years of fear of self,

Shall finally take to flight once more, to gather to my own all those of love to which I am 

deserved,
to build a bubble full of silly stuff of fluff and rainbows and cherub puffed clouds,
if only for a while – what shite!
But sure, isn't that life! 


Warrior Princess