Whispering Voices…

~

Walking through the city…
Reinventing who I am…

The perfect opportunity…
To become a different man…

Wandering through shadows…
Where no one even cares…

Just who or what I am…
They are totally unaware…

Of all the sins I carry…
The heavy cross I bear…

As nobody ever notices…
Nor hears the whispered prayer…

It’s a place of total freedom…
For the weird, the wise and wrong…

Not a place of judgement…
But a place where I belong…

A sense of shamed community…
For all sinners and their ghosts…

Who walk through life’s falling rain…
But never follow the signposts…

Always choosing the wrong path…
And straying off into the dark…

But the city will never criticise…
Or make any cold sly remark…

It embraces all your darkness…
And covers up all your sin…

It’s a supernatural place…
Where life’s losers sometimes win…

Where rules are meant for breaking…
Not worrying about tomorrow…

Even lending you an invisible spell…
For anyone who wants to borrow…

So I’m walking through the city…
And reinventing who I am…

Looking out for opportunities…
To become a different man…

~

©Eyewillnotcry1973

Inspired by the song “West End Girls” By The Pet Shop Boys

“If a child, a child cries would you not forgive them”…

~

Tuesday’s child…
Was mild and meek…

Had a sweet voice…
But dare not speak…

In fear of being…
Pushed away…

Or being punished…
Fading to grey…

Trying to avoid…
That cruel back hand…

Which demanded obedience…
And burned like a brand…

To be seen not heard…
Were words to live by…

Survival of the fittest…
“Eye Will Not Cry”…

Dodging verbal bullets…
Living with the abuse…

Never getting it right…
Covering each bruise…

Counting down the hours…
Waiting for the day…

That escape to freedom…
Would finally pave the way…

To a new existence…
One without any fear…

One without the pain…
One without the sneers…

That kept on coming…
No matter right or wrong…

As each furious beating…
Dispelled the need to belong…

Until the day it happened…
The abuse became too much…

A desire for self-preservation…
Led to a retaliatory punch…

The abuser losing footing…
Falling down the stairs…

And the key to freedom…
Was contained in a lifeless stare…

~

“Too many shadows, whispering voices”…

~

Walking through the city…

Reinventing who I am…

A perfect opportunity…

To be a different man…

Wandering through shadows…

No one even cares…

Who or what I am…

They are totally unaware…

Of the sins I carry…

And the cross I bear…

Nobody ever notices…

No fucker really cares…

It’s a place of total freedom…

For the weird and wise and wrong…

Not a place of judgement…

But a place where I belong…

A sense of shamed community…

For the sinners and the ghosts…

Walking through life’s falling rain…

Never following the signposts…

Always choosing the wrong path…

And straying off into the dark…

But the city will never criticise…

Or make any sly remark…

It embraces all your darkness…

And covers up your sin…

It’s a supernatural place…

Where life’s losers sometimes win…

Where rules are meant for breaking…

Not worrying about tomorrow…

Even lending you an invisible spell…

For anyone who wants to borrow…

So I’m walking through the city…

Reinventing who I am…

Looking out for opportunities…

To become a different man…

~

“Share the same space for a minute or two”…

~

He’s got a mental disorder…
Affecting his brain…

It’s why he keeps on running…
Back to her again…

At every opportunity…
And any chance he gets…

He finds his way to her…
And tries hard to forget…

The pressures and strains…
That surround his tired eyes…

His stressful environment…
Which forces him to cry…

And pine for her excitement…
The adventure she brings…

Because wandering around her…
Makes his heart sing…

Giving him chance to reflect…
To make sense of it all…

And where all his mistakes…
Vanish in her seductive call…

Those open, sore wounds…
The deep and painful scars…

Overfilled with fear and hate…
Like some flooded reservoir…

Leaving him quietly praying…
For something to hold…

To keep him afloat…
Whilst out of all control…

As when he’s feeling so lost…
In his distorted reality…

She gives him distraction…
And moments of pure clarity…

Much needed perspective…
Arrives when she is so close…

And next to her beauty…
He’s like an imperfect rose…

Out of his natural habitat…
And growing out of place…

But when he sees her light up…
A smile crosses his face…

Because this mental disorder…
May affect his brain…

But nothing can ever hurt him…
When he’s in her arms again…

~

“There’s a man going around taking names”…

~

The underground killer…

With death in his eyes…

An invisible evil…

A perfect disguise…

No one ever sees him…

Or gives a second glance…

His victims are random…

And don’t stand a chance…

As he selects the weak…

Then stalks his prey…

Timing his attacks…

And in minutes they lay…

Dead on the ground…

In a pool of warm blood…

And as he walks away…

The feeling of power floods…

Pulsates through his veins…

Leaving him so elated…

This addictive emotion…

That he alone has created…

And needs to be fed…

When night time falls…

As his thirst rises…

And he hears the call…

Of the cold hearted killer…

That lives deep inside…

Intent on stealing souls…

And enjoying the ride…

On a fairground attraction…

But never paying the price…

Just intent on the killing…

He doesn’t think twice…

As the underground killer…

Has perfected the art…

Of killing them softly…

Then removing their hearts…

Before moving on silently…

Towards his next kill…

Empowered by the glory…

Entranced by the thrill…

~

“When it gets too much, I need to feel your touch”…

~

She reveals herself…

Like a blossoming flower…

A tiny bit more…

Every time he sees her…

She’s whispering secrets…

And constantly teasing…

A glimpse of something…

Distracting and deceiving…

Each different adventure…

Slowly painting a picture…

Of what it could be like…

If he was with her…

From the refined splendour…

To her seedy dark side…

The Black, White and Grey…

And all the colours, amplified…

That simply radiate…

From each and every pour…

As he gazes upon her…

Always wanting more…

Willing to give himself…

Commit fully to her…

Becoming just one…

Completing the transfer…

And losing himself…

In her constant maze…

Her dazzling bright lights…

And her seductive ways…

That simply enthral…

And bind him in raptures…

Keep him running back…

Always trying to capture…

The Butterflies he feels…

When he begins to explore…

Her forbidden side…

Behind every locked door…

Because she holds his heart…

And as the grip grows stronger…

He’s not sure if he’ll be able…

To resist her much longer…

~

“Everybody here seems to be sleepwalking”…

~

Sat in the half light,
surveying the city…

Invisible to all,
yet searching for pity…

For someone to notice,
or give me a sign…

That I exist and
that I am “FINE”…

As I look around,
watching damaged souls…

All bitter and twisted,
all growing old…

Eyes looking down,
shoulders hunched…

As the fists of life,
have repeatedly punched…

Each individual,
square on the chin…

Extracting the fun,
removing the grin…

That once appeared,
upon their faces…

Before the Devil,
tied up their laces…

Playing his tricks,
weakening each mind…

Opened up to suggestion,
distractions to find…

And tarnishing them,
beyond all repair…

Leaving hearts and souls,
in deep dark despair…

Sleepwalking an Earth,
that’s constantly revolving…

Never looking up and
never ever evolving…

As each day passes,
edging closer to death…

Our final moments and
our final breath…

~

Amazing photo by http://suemcgilveray.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/london-millenium-bridge-monochrome.html

“Going underground”…

~

Searching for love,
deep underground…

Where nobody speaks,
or makes a sound…

Just looking for signs,
across the way…

Or body language,
with something to say…

Showing some interest,
perhaps just a smile…

And capture a glimpse,
that lasts for a while…

Creating a memory and
filling the hole…

That exists within,
each poor tortured soul…

Who dare not speak,
or express their desire…

Meaning most flirtations,
will always misfire…

And end in moments,
of pitiful regret…

The day their challenge,
refused to be met…

And the courage needed,
just to say hello…

Was found wanting,
by the reluctant hero…

Walking away with,
the spirit of the stairs…

Wondering what could have been,
had it been more than stares…

Before the next journey and
a new smiling face…

Could this be the moment,
they win Cupid’s race…

As they search for love,
deep underground…

Where nobody speaks,
or makes a sound…

~

“London calling to the faraway towns”…

…

All seeing, ever present…

Dominates the sky line…

This wheel forever turning…

Gracefully silent and sublime…

…

Photo copyright of jamieb1973 via instagram

“The silent sound of loneliness”…

~

Twinkle twinkle little star…
Can you begin to cover her scars…
 
The open wounds that just won’t heal…
And tell the Devil, it was an unfair deal…
 
Because she’s carried them so very long…
And tried so hard to be so strong…
 
But the time has come to simply accept…
And count the tears she’s never wept…
 
Whilst this cruel world has revolved and spun…
And all the years have long since gone…
 
That she’s not the woman she wanted to be…
And it’s becoming clear for all to see…
 
Full of tragic and selfish notions…
Covering up all hint of her emotions…
 
Walking through this life all alone…
Ran away from her childhood home…
 
And into the middle of the big bad city…
Where no one gave her an ounce of pity…
 
Had to get by all alone and scared…
Could have been different if only she dared…
 
To follow her heart and play with fire…
To let go within and feel inspired…
 
But now her life’s in such a mess…
With no one around to ease her stress…
 
And help her eyes to clearly see…
Just how wonderful her life could be…
 
If she just embraced everything…
And began to teach her soul to sing…

But she cannot see the wood for the trees…
And her minds chained up, she’s on her knees…

Sending a silent prayer to the eye in the stars…
Begging them hear and to heal her scars…

~