The sky imitates breath
A mist on the horizon
Dew lingers as baubles
From stem
No bells need chime
To echo time
As we take in this great signal
To a new dawn
As we’re swept to calm shore
awakened from storms
Since passed
Poetry
Identity
Coming of age
This war I wage
To-and-fro
between I’ve come a long way
To, I just don’t know!
Battling this cage
Could I really be the brave?
Freedom is an illusion
I’m sure I’ve trapped myself into
Always greener on the other side
Till you step into the shite
Another day, different hues
Buy myself a pair of brand new shoes
But I still feel the fucking same
Branded into shame
Depending on what’s cool that day
Never did care for the names
Be it Nike or just plain
Just wear what fits
And I’m still just about okay
So ticks or no ticks
I guess I’m just me
What more can I say?
L.O.V.E H.A.T.E
You kissed me on the lips
With your fist
How did we get into this tryst
Writing scripts and drawing battleships
Our love written on knuckles
With the letters H.A.T.E
How long will we rock this ship
Courting resentment
Revulsion will marry us
Till death do us part
This love will carry us
Further into the dark
Trademark
Trademark
Cigarettes, smoking
An extension of my cancerous sadness
My poetry aint mine
Without the ash at the end of the line
Visions of smoke inhaled
Another hammer to my coffin nail
My body unveiled just as I exhaled
A puff of smoke, another trail
Disappearing before I can be tailed
His marriage is on the clock
His marriage is on the clock
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock
Comes home at 5’o clock
To a marriage of hard knocks
He loves her
But she tells him it isn’t enough
What’s he meant to do
Dress in some suit
With a noose
Tighten it till he chokes
Till he has plenty of money to misuse
But no mind left to lose.
Knots
Why do men’s ties go around their necks like nooses?
Tightly fitted suits
Sun beaming
Too hot.
A wife & kids at home
Asks for a whiskey on the rocks
Resembles his marriage
Time is ticking.
Tick Tock.
Arriving home half-cocked
Trapped in that Windsor knot
Mortgages & picket fences
Looks like he’s got the lot
But he’s hitched to his work
Meanwhile the janitor doesn’t get paid much
But he’s still got his head
And that’s worth more than tying knots.
Cremation
Setting fire to paper every hour
So that your lungs can harbour resentment
A symbol of beginnings and endings
Drifting clouds of smoke
Burning this moment into ash
A cemetery of butt ends
To remind you that your lungs are black
Wordle: Power struggle
There is a power struggle
On the fringe of society
Listing mysteries
As if they belong to us
So we can be a star
In the battle storms
That swirl upon the roads
We’ve been discarded from
Trying to lift ourselves
Out from the pit of our sighs
So we can say that in the end
We won.
Charming beards
Any resemblence to ‘hipsters’ is purely coincidental….
Charming beards embrace faces with hugs
Confidence in different colours
Slogans of the year on mugs
Becoming men
inside the woodshed
Wordle 319
Deliver the crime
Taking a shine
To his eyes
He can’t argue
Gasping for air
As the tilt of the world
Doesn’t care for fair
Hate written on fists
Waiting for the next on the hit list
To be fatally kissed
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