Vision Ghost

Rookie - 5 Points (24/01/1979 / Epsom, East Surrey)

Unloving Caress - Poem by Vision Ghost

I can hear; I don’t need reminding of who you are
Its has now fallen apart, after we came to just so far
The drumming machine has sounded, for me to go
Moral fibres are the strings, to a bran new arpeggio

Playing the human mechanics, of such a behaviour
This seems to be ingrained in us, from somewhere
So let the motions throw caution, to the coldest wind
Freezing it in time, for rhetoric histories unpinned

Sending it round in circles, for ambiguous confusion
Piecing together the many shapes, for an absolution
For what good it will do, when enough is finally said
As it never seems enough, to scream it aloud to fade

Into something ethereal, like mists of a sullen memory
Which I cannot wait for, so as I can move eventually
I ache to the bones in the fatigue, of dealing with it
So can’t we at least be civil, or remain forever dispirit

If I loose my dry voice, can’t you hear my frustrations?
Why bruise this morality, with such hopeless solutions
We climb mountains but the front door, is impassable
Yet to think this dream, is alive is less then untenable

There’s this darkness inside, and now it’s coming alive
I need to runaway or I cannot guarantee, you’ll survive
This has broken down, so you can hide it inside an atom
A most meagre chance that ever existed, for us to fathom

My mind inside, you’ll see my nails raked down the wall
The wallpaper shreds mimics this, of our own winter fall
Before we descend into something cold, similar to lonely
Strip it down; see what remains, beneath the impartiality

Or am I too far gone, with the haze of stress and tension
Blinding me to the path, and a way out of this confusion
Can you just wear a mask, and hide the face that broke me?
So I walk on forever, in a blinded ignorance to be so free

Seems I’ve broken hands, thumping my fists to the floor
My body is in spasm, from every cruel word said to score
Some selfless confidence, in winning me over yet again
As we both know how this will end, with our hearts slain

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Rudyard Kipling


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 12, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 16, 2010

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