I close my eyes to see the devil.
It is the fear that poisons us.

Could I survive the night,

this time.

It ain't fair that you're still on my mind

It ain't fair, though you don't try

Damn! Damn! Damn!...here you are again

I am what I am, and I ain't what I ain't…

And though I've put you down in music and I've put you down in paint

You know I've never really put you down at all

And though the words and music seem to be a little quaint,

It's rock 'n' roll, it's rock 'n' roll…

© Cyrus Dali Vesuvala

You can watch a performance of this song recorded at home recenttly at this link

He thought he had recovered

When The Girl came in his life

A comfortable numbness of the mind

She broke through walls and barricades

He’d hid himself behind

Opening old wounds that he’d hoped

Noone would ever find…

And as she reached out to him

He restrained his own hand

And countered with: You’re barely out of school:

I’ve felt the things that you now feel,

I have stood where you now stand,

Believe me, I’m not trying to be cruel,

When I ask you to be cool,

TRIGGER

Hunting for the trigger

Ever since the well ran dry

Locked in years of silence now

But even so he tries

Yet the trigger still eludes him

And his words they just won’t flow

And though he’s loved her all these years

He sometimes worries that she doesn’t know

That it’s only words that fail him

And though no words come along

He hopes she knows that she has been

His muse in every song

Now around him nature’s turning

And the leaves are turning brown

As the pendulum swings, the alarm bells ring
Time is ticking away
His days may be numbered, with this house he is lumbered
But he’s grateful for one more day

The grandfather clock, like a stoic old man
Stands there for all to see
His face almost clear, bar a couple of smears
Pretends all is well but you’ll see

To his left is a space, that was filled, now is void
Of a clock that was just as unique
The grandmother clock, ceased to tick-tock
In for repair went the wooden antique

You inhabited every fibre of my being
Physically emotionally spiritually
From when we met
We were conjoined one body soul and mind
We got under each others skin
We peeled away the layers
until raw humanity melded with raw humanity,
no pretences left
The sum of us was so much more than me and you
We were a new a vibrant entity
Ready to live out our dreams
Conquer any fears
Take on the world
A force to be reckoned with
In all that's good
A self contained unit.

Some marks we make now
will linger then fade
some kindnesses kept
wont live out the day

Some truths seem hollow
when held to the light
Some heroes we worshipped
were robbed of their might

The promises I make
They may just be air
They may read as false
And weaken when shared

Fantasies may falter
Expectations may wane
Rancor may root
And turn holy profane

Air it may be
But air do we breathe
Air is my strength
When your eyes I can't see

We’re born poor, till we consciously think
Cos knowledge is power and wealth, here's the link:
When we learn how to think, we make up our minds
The moments of truth, each thing we decide.
Most will walk past, those asleep on the street
When all they may need, is something to eat.
This is why, some people don't care:
The reason they don't, is cos their vision's impaired
They refuse to envision, themselves in despair
A selfish mind, that only the good find unfair.
speaking of fairness, you may have observed

If you are on your second or
Third DUI.
If you have been to rehab more
Then one time.

Are you fucked up on drugs
Of all kinds?
The chemicals raging in your
Mind.

There are greater forces
At play.
There is a softer, better
Way.

The hustle keeps you on
The street.
You have a hard time making
Ends meet.

Your money goes to drugs,
Can't pay your bills.
You can get out,
Your fate Is not sealed.

Sure, here's a poem summarizing my experience critiquing the two poems:

Words and lines, a canvas white,
Two poems wait, for critique's light.
With pen in hand, I start to write,
Evaluating form, and insight.

One speaks of clowns, of joy and pain,
A structured verse, with whimsy's reign.
Its language playful, and surreal,
Absurdity, its humor's seal.