Vincent Topp

Never wished I had, what other people have, until now
Never took life for granted, always respected its mystery, until now
Never was a doer, I was more a thinker
But I can stay here forever trapped by my thoughts
...

Every little red riding hood
Walks into the forest unprepared
Who would expect the wolf
When your heart is the unstained innocence.
...

My entire life has been a lie
Me, the real me
Has been the skater on the fractured ice
Escaped prisoner of my own Alcatraz
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This world is my playground, mine
I lockdown the borders, I push the island away from the mainland
Detached myself through choice from this fiction called life
The only realities I acknowledge now are at the end of my own fantasies
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The mountains scratch the sky
Birds of prey shield the sun from unprotected eyes
Nature is secure
Nature is the ruler.
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Sneezing out solutions
Coughing up emotions
Stirring black coffee soberness
Reality pinching me.
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The flames are laughing, arguing, seductive
The words are whispered, shouted and mimed
Adventure without the risks attached
‘How was your day? ’
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So I wait for the calm to rise
As I sink into my author's throne
My eyes welded shut
My breathing clicking to attention at silences glare.
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Riding his purple Harley Davidson
At a thoughtful controlled speed
Along the dusty winding mountain top road
Not long now, till he’s at his sanctuary.
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I’m the writer of my own life story,
But making up the plot as I go along.
I’m the only actor in my own life story,
No scripted lines, I’ll improvise.
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Grown up in the business,
Like their father and his father before.
One was a natural, but the other bled sweat.
They longed to shake off the halo,
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When I wake up I ask myself one question,
Who do I want to be today?
Who do I need to be today?
Do I wear my extrovert face,
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Other things scramble our thoughts,
Things that don’t matter;
Pop the cork, sip the wine,
The chemistry stays no matter.
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I have to leave this instant,
The vibes are building into a tsunami of evil.
My thoughts are cross circuiting my morality,
I’ve started a mental list of targets,
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The crime is in your own personal betrayal
It will never come gift wrapped by loving precise fingers
Exhale your fear, inhale some courage
It’s in the unseen
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Deep sigh
Slap my face awake, hard
Will today surprise me, probably not.
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So I play the waiting game
No fresh surges struggling to free themselves
The karma isn’t calling me anymore
Mother nature’s in a strop.
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We are not good enough to be the heroes or the villains
We are the jokes, not the jokers
We are the stupidity to their genius.
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My sleeping partner cruelly nudges me out of calm
Eyes open the hunger and thirst rises like a roar
Going through the motions like a lobotimised lab rat
Waiting for the cheese to drop
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There’s a wind that’s blowing in my face,
As everybody else walk’s with ease,
It’s trying to knock me sideways,
It’s trying to bring me down to my knees;
...