Growing older is Natural

Growing older is natural,

like composing is phenomenal.

The younger me was subliminal,

and my feelings were optional.

Now I’m waiting for the natural.

For logic to make nonsense 

of a younger conscience with a lining that’s unnatural.

That’s only natural.

LIFE is unnatural.

It’s stiff and unusual.

We’re born labored and grow abnormal

into anomalies being theatrical

quoting and aging

underneath the supernatural

but that’s all natural.

Like growing older is natural.


My own private torture…

Still not sure how I stare back at this lack
while held by chains of my own private torture.
Walls so wicked they’re leering back
at my helpless wails and tasty tears.

I made the choice to be this way
In blinding light that makes me sick
but why leave that Which helps me stick
the ways that keep me safe and let you stay

I once brought down Jericho with you!
Hammered down the walls holding me back
leaving debris of your indirect conquest
As a testament to your masses and dark religion.

I was impressed by what you did
So I sponged from you before my journey home

Watching your maturity date age in simple magnificence with awe

I begun wanting to make my ways in your image.

Forgetting my old haven needs its own beams and foundation

I built stairways measured in your grand heights going higher

and never considered they’d topple over.

Now my little dreams are there with My Lady called Future.

They’re in danger because My Mind Palace seemed sturdy and I was so eager.

Either I didn’t master or you’re just youthful banter

it doesn’t matter now, they’re gone and I’m a loser.

All I have for me is faith and a journey on the path to atonement

the place I’ll visit while bound by my fallen

their chains will make me stronger

and I’ll drag them while I punish my self to show you the effects of your way

from the sound of my pain
From my own private torture.

Hitlebb|Lebrecht © 2016

It’s Embarrassing.

As I walk through the path of what WE CALL the world’s way

I see sewage that makes me cringe

in shame of how we exist.

 It’s Embarrassing. 

We live with smut in our minds,

dust in our eyes

and junk in our bellies.

We accept no sort of prize for the mind

just a price to keep it limp and steady.

Shopping to keep it chummy

but no books to keep it happy.

It’s Embarrassing.

How it’s ok to live on empty

and feel lost if you’re a worrier.

Living for the dream of “heart killing” wages

is the way, the truth, our lineage.

So we stain our vision

forget imagination

memorize all facts

and leave no room for much thinking.


We haven’t connected…

We haven’t connected the dots in life

those dots that show our past in light.

We havent connected the lights in life

all shiny to brighten the days in sight.

We havent connected the days in life

to shape brave memories into the good knight.

We haven’t connected this puzzle called life

we haven’t connected it right.

We haven’t connected it all in might

till then

we connect

to our present night.

Lovely, playful ruse.

I find

your love playful.

It’s sad

I’m just tool.

As long

as I’m joyful.

I know

to stay a fool.


Give me

your lie so full.

I’ll wait

at home your fool.

I know

we’re still playful.

This love

is for a tool.



I feel

so damn stressful.

To be

your third best fool

I know

we’re just playful.

This love

is just a tool.



You left

me so playful.

I stayed

your long left fool.

To death

I lay mournful.

That I

stopped being your tool.




Childhood; the sweet days of life

To gaze up at and appeal to. To look up to grown-ups everyday. That is the wonder of childhood. To adore and immortalise the old no matter how frail, with memories and perplexities of the simpler days without the superficial sways and the adult haste we live… in haste. Naive love and hate, filled with awe for days when the world is yours without true opposition or debate. That was childhood, our wonder days, when free is free or we pout and dictate. World leader cannot hate, the older ones envying our bliss. No strings to favours or demands that hurt. Protection is the mandate and we’ll love for it, in the sweet days of childhood when we’re all truly free.