The snowflake falls indifferent to it’s own impermanence
just as the greyed feather glides from its pyre
heedless to the swan that carried it
the world doesn’t mourn or care for all that we carry
and the wind screeches only what the listener tells it
Poetry
We are asteroids
Springs symphony stirs
but nothing compared to that which spurred
the machines to toil away
Clank, clank
never the hammer of a woodpecker
but the clang and bang of the extractors
the green has all but gone
no weeds to straggle the edges
no brambles for Jenny Wren to nest in
the fox lost its hunting ground
and the owl’s hoot grows ever-distant
perhaps they liken us to a storm that passes through
when they glance us in their beady eyes
but soon, they’ll learn the truth
we were asteroids
plummeting the earth to ruin
Look at us
Look at us, our crimes loiter in the air
dangerous with intent
but we’ll carry on
skuttling along in our exoskeletons
It’s true, we haven’t really got much choice
so we speed along
looking out of our windows
we undo all that was said
every day
A great forgetting
making plastic hearts to preserve
the life force once organic
and in the stale breath of a museum
the heart of a whale
consumes us
as we pass
A reflection on what makes us human
fading fast
how can we know ourselves
when everything we are connected to is imprisoned?
Sisyphus shrugged
We struggle with the world’s indifference
the percussion of rain only background noise to existence
no God breathing chance into the dice
everything just is
apart from you and I
carrying the world on our shoulders
breathless and tired
Is this what it is to be human?
‘Looks what way,’ shrugged Sisyphus
Plastic death
There was a rustle
before it dipped, plopped and clinked
and the sound made me think
of our lungs laden with this tarred air
as the bottle rattled, one last breath
and I thought about the remains of us
littered among this plastic death
Tomorrow’s tomorrow’s
Do you ever stop to think
maybe there is no more room to grow?
we’re made small by this incessant need
always on the go
nothing is valued unless it can be sold
when we’re renting air
I won’t tell you what I told
We should be scared
but tomorrow’s tomorrow’s are too far to care
meditation teaches us to live in the moment
but the future is for sale
in a ruin of our own creation.
So I’ll take this breath now – glad it’s not tomorrow.
The dance of Predator VS prey
There is one of you
a flock of me
you run
We flee
thus the dance is on
who will it be?
Who will be Jesus amongst us
caught in your grasp
so that we can live?
Heaven forbid it might be me.
We only love in seasons
We love only in seasons
and there is nothing more earthly
than these tidal waves of lust & crime
Eve was never a woman
but a scar woven on the psyche
from all the prayers
in which we killed time
Skin-deep
My love of life is only skin-deep
because inside, I’m empty
lens pointing to the wild
alienation penetrates the bottomless pit of my lungs
and I look up to that fucking sun
and think ‘I will shoot you, you fucking cunt.’
Drunk as moose
Did your mother lick you into shape
before you got drunk as a moose?
fairy legless
Ceasar threw you into the Colosseum
you kicked every which way that you might
frothing at the mouth for a fight
because everyone is a lion
a liar
on the prowl
my little cub bear
it’s the pride that eats ya
spilling your guts is no way to hide
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 