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And this I fear, is it
invisible at first glance
darkening around us
closing in

terrifying
painfully watching
it sets in
death

The eye sees all

"The eye sees all:
He's watching YOU."
Reads the poster on the wall.

Can even see what you think,
In the solitude of minds.
Gazing, without a blink.

I am free, but a Slave;
Shackled in my chains,
I'll take them to the grave.

I am Ignorant, yet Strong;
My hear beats within me
Right where we belong.

I am Angry, though at Peace;
Through the effects of my crimes,
Inevitably come the Police.

Up on the wall, there sits the eye.
Ever gazing, the vigilante.
Watching, watching, till we die.
__________
Tribute to George Orwell, and 1984.

And heres the 'First Line', which I forgot to put in:

'So this is how it ends'

So this is how it ends.
Not with the whimper as decreed by Eliot,
Nor with the bang that men claimed.
But, with a blink.
A sudden irrevocable twisting.
And then...
Silence.

Platypus

Platypus
tail of beaver
and bill of duck
an ugly creature indeed
but special, still. it is
with its beautiful
uniqueness
nothing else compares
Platypus

sleeping in the back alley

Sleeping in the back alley,
It was pretty damp,
Living like a tramp,

No place to call home,
The streets, where I would roam.

Sleeping in the back alley,
Nothing to own,
Leaving me to moan.

Death, is what I fear

Death, is what I fear
Reaper whispering in my ear.

Scythe swinging by my face
drifting into deaths embrace.

Trying in vain for another day,
no hope left, I fall away.

Action, adventure, romance

Action, adventure, romance,
Feelings coming from every glance,

Desire for love,
For it to flourish like a dove,

Action, seem's like a movie,
Adventure, sound's a bit groovy,
All these thoughts flooding my mind,
Who knows what I could find?

Man, that one sucks..

Transport, a human need.

Transport, a human need.
Ability to travel far and wide
From the equator to the stars

A need to see
To find, to discover
To know all that there is


A delusional mind

A delusional mind
Is quite dangerous indeed.
Always tricking your head
As how to fufill its need.
Terrifying illusions
Believeable confusions
They always seem so real,
But deep inside,
You know you can't win in a devils deal.
____

Ehhh.

Under a five thousand pound pressure

Under a five thousand pound pressure
Lies a deeply buried treasure
Somewhere close in somewhere in Cheshire,
And that is where I'll spend my leisure.
They say it's drawings, it could be Escher!
To find such art would be a pleasure!
Or perhaps it's something fresher,
But I hope it's not a tape measure!

When the Books are Closed

Haha, nice one gantic, that made me laugh.

When the books are closed,
What lies further no-one knows,
We must read it again,
To see what will happen then,
A character may die,
Or the whole universe, the book destroy.
We must read to get to the end,
Just because, that's what I tend.

Man, I really can't think much lately.. -.-

Swing of a scythe, what a fright!

Swing of a scythe, what a fright!
I tremble to my roots.
For the moon says its a Harvest Time,
And I'm to be the bread!
__________
Hoo-ray for 3 minute poems! If you didn't get the joke, well...

Death steals in from across the moor

Death steals in from across the moor,
Masked in chilly crystal vapour,
Proceeds to call his hounds to light,
Releasing beasts into the night.

Past weathered tors the keen dogs bound,
Paws sturdy over granite ground,
With hooks of steel set in the pads,
Could tear a man to myriads.

Eyes of fire, coat of charcoal,
From slender snouts does hellfire roll.
Set deeply in their ghostly jaws,
Canines of canines of the moors.

Reflected in river Bovey,
Stood a string of Dartmoor ponies,
Windswept manes encase their ears,
The nightly fog reveals their fears.

The ponies don't seem too unnerved,
Which gives us cause for much concern,
As closer to the water creeps,
The shadows of the hounds to leap.

Creatures, ultimately condemned,
Before the hounds were upon them,
Tried desperately to race away,
Their hind legs at the dogs they fleyed.

They were no match for spirit dogs,
And heavily they fell to fog.
The hounds devoured every one,
Death called them back from where they'd come.

The morning came, with it the sun,
Surprised to find the ponies gone.
The farmers came, they knew the lore,
The fiendish Hellhounds of Dartmoor.

According to local legend..

According to local legend
A full moon calls the beast
A beast of terror and rage
Who steals our crops and poisons the well
Who forces us to board up out windows
We can not leave at night due to the beast
We try to defend ourselves but no one ever returns
How unfortunate for us our legend is local
The mighty bounding scallion