All or nothing man

How do you split an all or nothing man,
into hundreds of broken pieces?
All smudged with confusion the colour that grease is.
And you pick each piece up just to try to see your reflection.
Suddenly something hits your eye from broken me direction.

Shocked at what you see,
You throw a piece of me,
to the other end of your play pen of little treasures.
And watch how it shatters again on the wall which holds my picture.

Their design

Don´t tell me what´s right or what´s wrong!
For I think I can distinguish just fine.
Even through the deception well developed and so long.
I´d say these frustrations these illusions are all just mine.
The little piece of you, you play like an instrument, your song.
kidding yourself a plain piece of this man´s simple design.
A piece of his play that you now belong.
 So I´ll watch your dance as the sun sets and your fantasies dine.
Treating them like kings, you seemed so fond.
They were feeders of your sweet wine.
Out of their Kingdom I couldn´t drag you.
You´ve lied to yourself, you´ve shielded me and shielded the truth.

Won´t comment, hence.

I touched your nerve, feel your anger,
It grows from blue to red at the turn of a head.
Pulsating with the charm of your irony!
Deep hate you went their last night in your abhorrence of me.
Me dying slowly in your glorious of dreams.
Yet here I am again front of you the phantom of all crucial phantoms.
Here to wake you up to the torture of the hours.
Sink down into it like I had commanded it.
The inversion is complete and i´m now your master hence.
I´ve got you spinning in the wilderness of your curiosity lost beyond sanity´s quaint fence.

Through concealed emotion.

Must I use force to break the lie that you shield yourself with.
The funny pretences that cover you like fern leaves before the feast, ha.
How will I penetrate this facade that you put up before I reach you.
Steal that piece of your heart that you so appropriately associate with the stars.
I was behind you an invisible knight.
I was the hunter that spared your little game tasting life.
I speared through the concealed emotion.
Aiming to hold you for a second.
Yet you´d wiggle off any lance.

Señor Javier.

The dry plains of this land.
Parched, but not a blemish on your family.
The base of the olive tree wrinkles.
It´s as old as the moor muscle of the towns folk.
Older than any rioja vine or the blood of the bull.
Señor Javier the insignia and the expression of your passion.
This warm land still shares winter with the north.
The temperate mountains still collect a fine layer of ice.
The sadness about your children´s joblessness.
Hold spain, the blizzard of greed will all be invain!

Enin

Enin, not known.
Never met me.
Without gender up or down.
Walking on the outside of town.
Born outcast smiling always.
A rucksack for a kitchen and a rain hat as a roof.
A passing greeting, further more aloof.
Mystery and fear enters the witness to Enin´s presence.
Enin´s freedom to roam and power to see is it´s essence.

The mudskippers crude form.

Have you ever seen a mudskipper,
Content in the darks estuary slime.
He bounces happily upon damp algae rotten sand.
His fraternizing with filth should surely be deemed a crime.
The hypocrites mouth opens wide to condemn the weird fish.
As he steps on a washed up second world war mine.
And becomes jelly,
better yet a new jelled sludge for brave mudskippers to slither in.