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Matt Colebrooke

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Nottingham, England, UK

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typing

by

Matt Colebrooke

how can you give astraight answer when you know you have to lie
if you tell the truth you know she'll say good bye
why is the world socruel and leaves you in a rut
some people go all for it and give their wrist a cut
next time you see them they'll be in a sea of red
"and what a shame to lose someone so full of life" someone would have said
other people go crazy and listen to voices inside their mind
you know the people i'm talking about the skitsophrenic kind
the one's that are seriously depressed and let phychitrist run all those test
diagnose them and fill them with pills
the ones if they take just two kills
some take to murder like a fish to water and sy they didn't mean to hurt her
it was an accident they swung for me first, then with a fit of rage they suddenly burst.

unfinished, any suggestions would be nice


waiting for slumber

by

Matt Colebrooke

Iím here, and Iím waiting,
Waiting to drop off the edge.
I look around me,
I donít want to see this
This before me I donít need, what Iím seeing, itís a mess, a confusion,
A confusion of many things
Everywhere I look, in front, behind, left, right itís confusion
A confusion in my mind, its sickening what I have to see.
It should have been dealt with, dealt with by me,
But I myself didnít want to deal with it.
I want to drop off, go places Iíve never been,
See people Iíve never seen,
Do things Iíve never done,
Learn things Iíve never known
But Iím stuck, stuck with confusion,
The colours mingling together, all into one,
While Iím waiting for it to pass
I donít want to be here
I donít want to see this
I donít want to hear this
I donít want to think this
I just want to drop off,
Drop off and go tumbling down, down to the unknown, depths know ones reached
Keep falling, falling down and down,
No stopping just down.


typing

by

Matt Colebrooke

yes it is a great feeling,
your head buzzing when you look up at the ceiling,
turn your head left, right
seems like its in slow motion,
god that lights bright.
getting up, and falling over,
you can't stand straight you just tumble over
you can't walk straight your hysterical with laughter,
but you havern't yet seen the morning after,

which by the way isn't great
if your not used to the intoxication
your head hurts like it's being used for a railway station
you feel sick and its halfway there
now you know why your not supposed to touch that beer.

its done you in, all you can do is just lie down
your face not looking to good with a very wide frown
your hand goes to your stomach to sooth
god you wished you never touched that booze
but you have and all you can do is wait
not feeling hungrey, havindg a headache
just sit and relax and wait for it to pass.


thoughts of an unfaithful man

by

Matt Colebrooke

i don't know whats wrong,
i honestly don't
admitting it, thats something i won't
not right here, not right now
this wasn't how

i was supposed to let you know,
how this happened just two weeks ago,
how i wish i'd said no.
if you want to know, it wasn't good
and now you can write my name in mud
and bear upon me your fists
and let me hear that thud
i deserve it, i know i do

but what was it that gave you that clue
i didn't make any mistakes
i didn't leave a trail
where was it i failed

and who exactly gave that whail
to let you know
and land you that 'sickening blow'
it's all their fault
why your so mad, and so unhappy
actually you know what
they must be whappy
cause it's all a lie, please let this one go
i don't know what's wrong
i honestly don't know.


no response

by

Matt Colebrooke

i walked through the door
just me
no stare
as i walked through the door
just me
no wave
as i walked through the door
just me
no smile
as i walked through the door
just me
no hi
as i walked through the door
just me
no cheer
as i walked through the door
just me
not a word
as i walked through the door
just me
no one special
walked through the door.


for ideas, turn overleaf

by

Matt Colebrooke

no idea where i'm going
going up, or going down
is it square or is it round?
to this life i am bound
from this paper my life is read
all my ideas, which i've come out and said
to where i was born and where i'm found dead

this is where my life began
at the start, at the begining
from the moment my eyes ran

it's hard to think
and all of that is lost in ablink
i should float, but why do i sink?

4th of November 9 double 2
writing this and feeling blue
it's hard to belieive what is true
what people say and what they do
i'll try and stand up, but i may fall down
i'll try and get rid of this frown

i have my picture, of what i want,
of where i'm going and where i'll stay
on my matt is where i'll pray
in my mind you'll hear what i'll say

i'm out of ideas as i've said before
have no idea whats behind the next door
or indeed whats under the floor
all i know is i don't want more

change my image and how people see me
make the spotlight turn on me
show them what i can be
get up on stage and collect my award
twist my tongue and make them bored
m ssi g out lettersand those vital chords
but at least i can say i've lived my life
acheived something special and made my goal
and not made a pact with the devil and sold my soul.


Untitled

by

Matt Colebrooke

The knife is deeper than it looks,
The wound is longer than the cut,
A funny feeling in my gut
Nervous, is what I am
These thoughts I lack, still waiting for a plan
Why canít something hatch?
A cunning plan, two follows one and three comes after
Pretty simple in laymenís terms
Forget the dirt, and eat the worms
Or they eat you; Iím not too sure
Give me back my tricycle, I need it more
Give me back my party hat and my rocking horse
Take me back to the beginning, the source,
That is where I need to start, of course
Whatís the first thing that came into my head?
Whatís the first thing that it said?
What actions did my lips make?
Or was it a mime, just a fake
I donít know, I donít remember
Let me know and I will find
Why this month is December,
And why it follows November
Because itís not as simple as A, B, C
Or one, two, three
Or whatís in front and what I can see.


Untitled to perfection

by

Matt Colebrooke

You can't see something
That isnít there,
So if you can't
Why should you care?
When they die
And you don't cry
For the people in heaven high.
That second after
When you forget it all
And all you need is some more,
So look up and realise
What is in our midst,
And not at what you just missed.