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Date Posted: 09:29:12 02/11/00 Fri
Author: Paul A.S.Rushton
Author Host/IP: hamster.dur.ac.uk /
Subject: Gab

All comments extremely welcome........ cheers..


Why can't I shape words the way I want, and make them talk?
Speech is just a sealing, less important than the feeling,
I can't write the way I might if I believed I was believing,
Or if feelings weren't just fixtures standing hapless and taught.

What's a world but shelter for the shifts of flavoured spaces,
And time is just a figment of the fear that is my hindrance
Just another pigment to the colours of my ignorance,
Blood that swaps and cycles shades from thankless feet and faces.


I know it makes no sense,
Except to keep things comfortable
To keep things sleepy, stop them spilling
To nonsense only, I'll be willing
To add a little clarity
Clear where it's suiting me

Here's where my tales are
Here's where words can be anything
They distil, keep me stirring
Keep the world and walls from blurring
Pennies bend the water through
So they don't sting for ringing true

For every million funny things
To wrap them in a word and make them sleep
For every handful I can drink
Still much more slips through and sinks
Best to thrash and billow dust
Than let it settle over us

Or lay my head on metal
Since cushions aren't so cold
I'll look on ugliness in the dark
And who are you to feel things when they hurt me?
Why should you feel loss when they desert me?
This life; a defect life; a pseudo soul, a Jesus army
Why should words be solvent tools to show me and disarm me,
Harsh light will never speak to me as dreams
I'll never stare at candle flame and wonder what it means
I don't need words to cry and they don't map my route to take
Suffice, and nice, to say that I am here and I'm awake


Night time sweat has wet the walls,
A room in gloom and the bones of angels,
The morning sky hasn't learnt to talk yet,
And I can't converse with coffee or a cigarette,
It's apparent that everyone hurts apparently,
Abhorrent that tears can lose their transparency,
Strange that remembrances sting in my sight,
That she shelved her hellos and her halos tonight,
Strange that I'm low where no fortune intends,
Short of concerns and no damage to mend,
But I'm ever diluting my cordial sighs,
Watering faith in the hope it'll rise,
I'll sit in the clefts where my morning is creased,
Await the next life or tomorrow at least

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