Sunday, February 17, 2013

Bob-bob-bob-bob.

Bob-bob-bob-bob.




Seas without end.
Hope hinged on a belief,
there must be more to life,
must be more than this,
surely there is more than me...

Phantoms on horizons.
Hope waned every endless day,
a ship would come to carry
me away to somewhere other
than here, where lonely view.

Bobbing gentle motion.
Hope regained with building wind,
the land would come back, back
to him. Silent out on ocean blue,
delirious for wanting only you.

Memory of dancing.
Kept the happy joyous hope
alive, his day would surely come.
Rescue from this open tomb,
out on the high seas of life.

Beauty his medicine.
Where narcotics do not reign,
a wave of tidal depression came.
Dulling the horizon in shame,
but who else could be blamed ?

Then it rained.
No real protection under cover,
without a dear heart, a lover.
Getting wet but it's not much fun,
when there is no-one to lean on.

Cold night blanket.
Brought the lack of hope to bear,
in the distance, silence, more despair.
Lack of someone, anyone who to share,
oh fuck this ocean, it's so unfair...

Awakened in panic.
A horn on distant sea be heard,
no, it was just an awful dream.
About a life that could have been,
if love had walked his way.

When morning came.
It began much more of same,
a lilt of reflection in the water.
His enthusiasm began to rise,
bound by courage in the skies.

Beneath the craft.
He understood one noble virtue,
that even though the unseen can hurt you,
his raft was hope, a safety net,
that proved he may be saved, just yet.

He floated calmly.
Believing the craft could carry him,
to a place where he find kin.
A bounty to be shared abroad,
a passion that he'd never hoard.

Relentlessly he bobbed.
Bob-bob-bob-bob-bob-bob-bob,
under currents rise and swell,
what is that fragrant smell ?
On yonder horizon he saw movement,
could this day be an improvement ?

Hope in beauty.
Like the nights of her blessing,
gentle moments they were undressing.
To breathe a peace upon his soul,
and not this menacing glory hole.

Dreams faded now.
The sun at zenith torched alive,
his flesh and bone, he'd not survive.
He lay in quiet desperation,
lost to her or new salvation.

Beatings come again.
Floating on this tiny life craft,
every notion he had feeling daft.
His conviction was his sentence,
to float the ocean seeking refuge.

Never saw land.
So tired of the monotony way,
a life rotted by despair, to say.
I f..ing give up, yes I quit,
who's to care or give a shit....?

Strange things happen.
On the ocean of life and love,
who doth know, the lord above ?
When all hope be totally lost,
you dream to end but what's the cost ?

Riches in secret.
I opened my eyes, am I dead ?
Where is this place I'm being fed ?
Who is this glorious soul alive ?
And is she the reason, I survive ?




'M'