Brashmania Creatina Polyvergo : Lozi's Poetry

I, A Tree

I, a tree, with branchy arms
aloof aloof and naked,
Beneath my pulse a rapid sigh
as wind to wind rattles.

grey and murky winter days
silky worms i have yet none, and still you love the wooded heart.
I have no beauty to give
i have no happy breeze between a floral sentence,
and still you long to touch my rings
to sing my age away>

Remarking how remarkable i sway
in chorus lines we,
cemented in concrete lines//
the crotchet birds fly overhead
to minty pines that we pine for
so sweetly do you love me so
how is it that you require nothing from me?

 

Magnum Antman

Magnum Antman with Special Eyes-
his magician face perpetually gleeful.
Sordid thoughts and words
(occasionally)
like to wince around the air
but caring for such a person as Magnum Antman has never been so rewarding.

Glancing in his direction
a fingered tune on ivory keys waves at me,
that Antman in glee...

Pierc-ed brow undertones of expression
does this man know the meaning of Geralds plee?

We ponder every second as his hair varies length....

he looks a lot like Dad, you know...with the cat on his head.
Well i guess this concludes it//
Magnum Antman plays piano-that is all.

(apart from the splendid fact that he is a "jolly nice chap")

 

Cefn Lea Stars

Rumours in various lights glint
glaring at my eyes in return as each wink defies
my eyes a-glow at navy air.
Alone upon the bed of snow
staring up at every agenda.
star upon star upon star
afar on some planet, journeying towards impending
implodation.
Eroded earth beneath my chilly feet
tonight the sky is mine/
in a blanket waved about my head
I cannot see it all at once
before the cloudy smugglers rain above.
The staring eyes of heavens face
erase all air.

Time stands still

and as we,
me and He
both awe together at such beauty.
I fall upon the snowy ground
astounded in a loving touch
by all the earth,
but most of all the stars.

 

Eccentricity

Fluid child upon a stage we're many worlds apart.
Once a Princess stealing the show,
(and now)
a Lady of Rage.

Eternally covered in spots (mental)
trying to talk but the social skills left..
a piece of my left ventricle keeps disappearing
(but that's only due to the serial-dating-year phase)

I cannot help but repeat I, I I I.
And i sigh to cover up the panting because of my junk food diet.

It's simply the doings, behaviour of an Introverted Thinker
(that person being me)
Since september,
these are the colours:
Faded Red
Bleached Blonde/slightly yellow
Green(Dreadtime)
Fazed-out Green
Brown Sludge Green
Pink(though Pillarbox Red)
Black

and interludes of other colours including blue and etc.

Sometimes i try to think my thoughts and other times i write them down,
always ending up with terrible or amazing poems.
I can't imagine that my recent ones will be the latter.
My brain, full of clattered commonroom images.
Sat:I sing, but lost.
Then:I learn and think
Pondering as a woman with erratic emotions,
hormones psycho
chemically-imbalanced Depressive. So i label myself anyway.
That may explain the creative streak,
some see me as a hippy,
I wonder.
I don't do drugs,
yet have an addictive personality.
I live films,
becoming the characters.

I take heart,
and then i lose it.

I'm teaching myself the guitar you know/
worship songs especcially,
plus 'Unintended' by Muse.

Confidence,
then none,
then some//it grows
now I've regressed back to the 2nd stage,
but I don't know why.
I've lost many friends because I finally got morals and control, barely drinking alcohol anymore(dressing as an artist, the things i wear are my artform-often abstract or insane)...
Sad reason for abandonment, don't you think?

 

How Can We Destroy His Love?​

​

Beautiful wonderful beautiful glory,
aged in age and time dispensed.
God's romance:the gospel story,
Died for us he recompensed.



chorus:

How can we destroy His love?
Our Father cries in pain.
Purify our minds and hearts
And let us live again



Love, such love we don't deserve,
Glorified by Holy fire.
Love, from God above reserved,
for us, His children to aspire.



chorus:

How can we destroy His love?
Our Father cries in pain.
Purify our minds and hearts
And let us live again



So Creator, created by,
we are saints alive/
Nothing more that we can try
to give Him, but receive.



chorus:

How can we destroy His love?
Our Father cries in pain.
Purify our minds and hearts
And let us live again
​

 

Sharing One Loveheart

Two parts of a kettle are we
you:the spout that pours out the tea,
and I: the solitary coffee grain/misplaced in the wrong pot.

Two parts of a tractor are we
you: the wheels, turning me/
the soil eroded by British weather ( partially clay )

Two parts of a garnish are we
you: the mayonnaise/i always hated that so much.
me: the counteracting vinegar oil, despising yet mulling over.

Two parts of a schoolyard are we, me and you.
Suspicious teachers and vague dog that clambered through the fence/
lonely kid,
in the middle of working out what the yellow liquid squirting out of the ladybird is...

And so, we face the final spartan, my friend i'll say it clear
and state the place in which we part.
You
and I,
sharing one loveheart.

 

Hooded Eyes: Face Down

Chorus:
People walking
mute, not talking.
Hooded eyes, face down.
Silent slumber,
seems to haunt me.
Hooded eyes, face down.

Verse 1:
Can you see my nails of green? They're like a poison ivy,
and there's nothing to be seen except the colours in my hair.
In my hair, in my hair.
And i hold a battle torch of honorary excuses,
and the empty shell inside is like an arrow in my heart.
In my heart, in my heart.


-chorus-


Verse 2:
When i walk across the room i see a bluebird shining,
and the next unsettled groom is but a number in your head.
In your head, in your head.
So the bluebird ends the day within its hidden highway,
and you put your dress away until you fall in love again.
Love again, love again.


-chorus-


Verse 3:
When i'm lying in my bed i see familiar faces,
and the faces that i see are mouthing nursery rhymes at me.
Rhymes at me, rhymes at me.
So such echoes of lost youth and delegated feelings,
still i walk along the path of sole illusion, slow face down.
Slow face down, slow face down.

-chorus-​

 

Lord Jesus Set me Free​

​

Verse 1:
Unexplained anointing, you are precious
Jesus-truly my desire, my desire.
Standing by the cliff-face, clawing for an answer,
where is your embrace, your embrace?

chorus:
God, how deep do you fly?
God can you repress my tears and pain?
How, can i give my life to you, when all i am made of,
is dust and sin.
God, how deep do you fly?
God, please just repress my tears and pain!
This, is me calling out to you
Lord Jesus, set me free

Verse 2:
Living in my dreams, you are precious
Jesus-truly my desire, my desire.
Aching in the darkness, surrounded by conmfusion,
where is your embrace, your embrace?

-chorus-

Verse 3:
Clarify my mind, my heart, my soul.
Be forever near, and take control.
God, how can i live,
when doubt runs through my mind?
I can't bear this life alone.

-chorus-

Verse 4:
Freely do You love me, love me unconditionally,
crying with me, laughing by me, steady and secure.
How open You adore me, and capture all my heart-
as it breaks in two....You renew.
Thankyou Father,
thankyou, for loving me.

-chorus-

Verse 5:
Splendid Excellence, You reign in glory,
God i love You, with all of my heart.
Though i suffer, Your hand gives me strength
and i'm made anew-not because i love You,
but because You love me.​

 

I'm In Love

i'm in love with a painted girl
she drips her smiles in rainbows and her hair in curls,
but she's so pretty with her lady love
i love to see her burn me out.

i'm in love with a rollercoaster man
he's like "you can't turn me on girl"
i say "catch me if you can"
and there's no stopping the ride..
i'm so sick inside/too much candyloss

i'm in love with a boating guy
he used to sing in gondoliers
it's true.
striping, cascading in a waterfall of lust
his heavy shoes sunk him under

i'm in love with a very hasty man
he's full of mystery and intrigue
and plays catch me if you can
there's no describing he's vague beauty
like his bluesky creepy eyes
and those fine cheekbones of iniquity
play patterns with my heart...

 

Archaeology

v1:
Geophys eyes
in Saxon pig sties
abandon their welfare at noon,
they stop off for chips
while pharmaldehyde lips
spaced in a ditch under the moon.

chorus:
Thunder is striking, striking, striking
we're covered in mud but we're clean,
monday is passing, passing, passing
as we dig up the things that have been.
Thunder is striking, striking, striking
quick, close up the field of anthrax,
monday is passing, passing, passing
hey! we found Tutankhammuns earwax...

v2:
A vacant halfstare
arcaeologists hair
ruffled/windy and arrogant smiles,
they day is not dug
yet you're looking so smug
as you uncover fossilized piles.

-chorus-

v3:
Unbeknown spade
an egyptian king raid
slightly dazed at the unnatural heat,
we sweat so much more
with each functional pore
and repel every person we meet.

-chorus-

 

When the Tide Comes in

ravenous sands amongst a petty life that does not weep,
it's settled face a brief encounter of disease.
how gently you kiss the sunset
farewell each bliss
farewell each kiss
i try to cry
silently dying
however, when the tide comes in,
i'm only 15

Gradually so gradually
the sighs of she as her tears are weeping crows.
Definite sunshine in the eyes of a grave,
it's no surprise the cattle don't repel the sand dunes of desire
goodbye each night
goodbye sunlight
while your vain rays
despond to my reflected heart
however, when the tide comes in
love is left

At the dawn of modular existance
spurting, spurting
the individual sausage rolls that pertrude
against the sordid sapphire sky,
it's world on top of yours and mine.
Darkening it's scent between the condemnating wheat.
farewell the skies
farewell as each fondant dies
however, as the band play on
chris slits a string.

 

Pulp Papered Pavement

Brilliant so brilliant
pulp papered pavement
which is of no coincedence
You can reach the leaves but you can't be bothered to try
as you pass the turqoise grass it breathes past.

Beautiful so beautiful
sin sullied songs
that try to poison all the joy
And when you finally want the trees you cannot jump quite high enough
as you pass the traffic lights the greenman blinks.

Sorrowful so sorrowful
dutiful debonair dude
His hair respects your heart as you pulse with extreme emotion
as you pass the buddha lounge/painted puce.

Burning, oh burning
my insides tormenting
How the pain brings forth a dart of angry thoughts
as my brain begins to crumble, lukewarm pie begins to fade.

Cradled in a cradle
of immense incredibility
Oh my child you weep so peacefully, let me catch you when you fall
as i burn internally at your turmoil, let me bear the burden.

 

Crumbs

I crave a certain something
that special icon smile,
but when i see your tears of pain
i crumple for a while.
The disillusioned poster paint
upon styrofoam walls,
creep up on certain somebodies
as each inspector calls.

The darkening case of rooms despair,
we echo in your grin,
the door's shut both outside our heads
while nothing is within.
So as the curtain falls my dears,
yes reader do hear tell-
of me and me/the crazy kids
and always wish us well.

Caressed in certain harmony
the institute is dead,
i'm not sure what the fuss can be as i'm gone in the head.
Beyond the seeping, gasleaked hall
our penance takes too long.
beguiling saints begin to sing
their tuneful deathday song.

Forgetting all the etiquettes
ta ra the blinding hiss/
I take us both between the cheeks
and in the smoke we kiss.
Adieu.

 

Spring Rolls/and lies

Oh sweet sweet ground that sits upon my shoulders,
each nectar-filled moment dews up our day/
Not long now,
too long too
the scented air picks out the leaves
as i conceive the conveying wind/
blowing directly into our faces.
Yellow smiles at me,
winted daroo those gorgeous islands of illusion.
We sink beneath the grassy knoll/
in our not-quite season,
forgetting reason(and abscence)
just for a little while longer,
until your hayfever becomes unbearable.

 

Words on Rizla

A flock of rough distilling badgers by the ear
as violent contessants mispell
hours and hours of predon 'mellow music'.
There's no time set up today
as we condescend-beautiful/
extreme/and thinkful.

"The mike ain't close enough mate!"
Array of music mumble-
jumble scratching at the tested strings/
all strings in the beginning.

Feedback's swift and drifting
I'm listening, listening
sifting through the questionable tunes.
Haha, it's rare but have they begun?
Feddback's swift and drifting.
23 o clock
.talk amongst yourselves.
Tuning? Moonlit, wait, my mistake-
it's actually just lamps and candles.
Cocky boy-wink wink.
[to be honest, i haven't got a clue if they've started. Lots of beings being around the stands, see?]

oo lyrical, what joy infestates!
Mad!
yes yes!
The show is on as fingers frustrate
lactating almost-ew-so true though.
Pinching the notes between their hm.
Silently stamming.

tic ticl tica choooowahcka!
Sigga neept choooowaaahkaka!!
So shoot me/don't really.
bass as heavy, planting musicians in a ray of sea,
seeming obstructive.
But intuition mate!

They're swift to floor the pedal bow.
And just so you know.....
PING!
DIP!
PING! pingpingpingping mission bond depiction.
I can only draw with word
what you variate with sound.
It's getting good-
vibrations low and car squeal cello!
You know, beautifully picked up
gently vagued.
What sounds like feedback sure ain't.

Ga ga ga ga.
blink.
blonk.
blink.
schwoooooooom
steady bass grinds along in an etherworld.
WOmbing against my head.
And now (instead)
for something completely different..

..a penguin on a string that the walrus forgot to mention,
left hanging there, destitute
in a barren state of shoomb.
And next the amarillo dillo dude with optic eyes-
no lie-
like rain
drops into oral vessels,
seeking the seeped silence.

Storm imagery.
Classic feedback-intentional louie?

hesitant clap. applause.
Next track.
Unnannounced.
Chase jazz
smooth answer smartass.
Russian elephant dives into the polaroid plod of
oochaka ooms
to vague attort spanish suggestions.
Distorted discords,
the hecklers at the front
like ma-crap and etc?
Squeaky delianoids
that leap the ear symphonically
and a strategy of the glands.
Movement something scales assume.
Just mistook a lady for a man!
Ash in eyes-no pun but lol.

Jimmy jests on the scratching orgasm
at the end of the spike.
Unimpressed hecklers frown bu i'm impressed.
Avant-garde indeed.
Shaking wadsworths liquid and so we cease.

screech
crackle
pop.

 

The Nickleback Hippy

Next
the nickleback hippy
attacks with regularity,
Grooming and budding with powerful, voicial joy.

Loving with a diaphragm in his heart
and the wind at his fingertips.
Spanish discords attend,
verily encompasing singing-
vaguelly a prayer and then a cadence.

Dectio country,
but dubious enough!
'too beaver for your beaver'

Wincing at the cliches,
but the beaver had his face burnt,
come on-sympathy for the beaver!
And the hippies voice, so luscious
for my coconut rhythm.

Currnetly contending,
continually nickleback, a virtual cliche
with winding cherry apple.
disundecidingly delicious.

 

Sorry Scarlet

Sat with the sorry scarlet
as it buzzes in the gentle heat.
Clasping my memories/
silent mamories
whimsical Van Gogh illusions,
devoid perhaps of sallow yellow?

In time
space forms.
Supping each summerfilled dream.

 

Extinction of the Romantics

Empty.

Categorical sunrise that lifts its eyes,
so you see
in the dim glare of night,
she sighs a painful sigh with the window open.
No two ways about it.
The pit of despair, utter poetical fright
pales under the bridge of slight illusions.

Granted the confusion of states begin to wallow,
as my thoughts are swallowed up
due to the mortal sorrow.

I,
without love.
And thee,
with nae but a care in the world.
What are we both to do?
Sigh a painful sigh or two?
But no illusion passed the stare,
or you and me.
So there we have the tale
of sordid love,
and despair.

The idle misfits split and compare their wounds.
Their bruises of alloy.
And thus the humans with which we toy become extinct/
Rough irregulars,
animal instincts take over
and the poets are lost.

 

Testimony of the Confused

In the Beginning there was nothing.
Nada.
Lost within my mamas skin
between the foetus goo, amongst the curling cord around me.
Just me
a wriggling baby preconcieved by God already.

So thus i was firstborn,
a firstborn girl with uncurly hair
and megaphone lips with infectious screams.
Sadly though, my memories are blurred by who knows what/
as i only recall going from superconfident Cinderella

to a weak mouse of tactless words.
Tardy and braindead.

La-dee dahing in church amongst the babies and old people/
weirdo hairstyles
bobcuts and perms
organ music
boredom and colouring in.

Sunday school rushed by like some pointless regularity,
i have vague recollections of this.

note: she being me just accepted that there was God. It never really occured to me
that the Word
was anything other than Truth.
Persona of varying confusion and coerced death threats
(not my fault i have to add/i was easily led)

ponder.

Strange hormonal changes
girls high school:
blushing easily at male art teachers
straining to rebel somewhat but not quite

sixth form:hair colours of excitement
dress sense:unique
boyfriends:serial
drinking:too much

....as i previously may have pointed,
blurred memories.
So here i am.
with experiences of christian festivals,
both easter and summer.
I think i know God,
just that bit more than i did before.

You seem
i'm still learning things.
I never really stopped,
yet through struggles and sorts/
i guess my faith is getting stronger


which reminds me i still need to get baptised.

 

Alexandria's Lament

Holy talks together
i prayed for you when i was just 8 years old.
Oh alex,
you came and went so quickly,
i remember your labrador
and the memories of your dead sister.
How i put my foot it in in junior school...
i never meant to hurt you

Your mum had a huge perm/
at your house i saw my very first metronome
and my first chinese takeaway.
Sigh.

But now,
now butting into your life
with only a 'granny wrinkles' to connect us/
just blurred memories of children dreams.
Playground play
The Battle of Alexandria,
and yeah that paranoid time when we nearly fell out compeltely.

chuckles oh and the ladybirds in the bush
that peed yellow.
Trying to escape the boys footballs
hurtling towards our heads.
Pogs and marbles.
Skipping ropes and french skipping,
it was all so innocently lovely.

The swimming pool was too cold though/
so here we are now
in a state of non-knowledge.
Not enemies but not friends any longer
mere aquaintances in separate universities.

i shrug
and then whistle.
Such a shame to let go,
but we cannot hold the wind between our fingertips forever...