All these things an accumulation
of things consumed
like fat in the arteries
or the cultural zeitgeist in the head
blended and pulverised
manufacturing pulp fiction
til the gun is loaded against our own skull
an audible gulp
before the flash and bang
empties our full
NaPoWriMo 2: Ironed socks
I do not wear the elegance
to be part of your magnificence
I’m all feathers ruffled
and you’re all, ‘Let’s not cause a kerfuffle’ smart
I wear odd socks
because I don’t really care
you iron yours
which I think is very rare
NaPoWriMo poetry 1: Hoping no one will notice.
Inspired by this ‘“To be a Flower, is profound / Responsibility –’
I tried to be a wallflower
but I couldn’t take the responsibility
an ecological niche
I couldn’t bloom to fit it
instead, I clung to the nail
creeping ever downward
a weed straggling lifeward
hoping no one will notice
The dying field mouse
A dying field mouse was the catalyst
For the tears turning to diamonds
Under the pressure of unrelease
An apologetic surrendering
To my failure to be a hero
My humanity drifting me apart
A wedge between me and my kind
A bridge I can’t cross
To look you in the eyes
And become a part of the rat race
I despise
That mouses black beady eyes
The abyss I looked into
Forever looking back
I am sorry little mouse
I couldn’t bring you peace
in your darkest hours
as you bid your long arduous goodbye.
All I see is death
Is there anywhere I can be someone else
I’m tired of being wrapped up
in myself
but I’ve seen out there
and seen the earth laid bare
it’s too much for me
all I see is death
looking back at me
mirroring my decisions and indecisions
falling into the abyss
of those eye sockets
A deleterious soul
You are a deleterious soul
pushing the buttons of all who dare tread
within pushing distance
of your daily insistence
that you must erase their existence
or else suffer the consequence
of your wrath
dare they breathe upon the same air
dare they leave or come back
on the whims of their own time
Sunday wordle on a Monday: Scuffling with a ghost
I’ve been scuffling with a ghost
that fluttered by
after falling from the mouth of the sky
weaving through the dust
like tumbleweed
boom and bust
a story of angst
written only for us
Smiling irony
I saw myself in the abyss of someone else
and I can’t turn away.
Strip my skeleton bare of this flesh
in which this toxicity is enmeshed
The smiling irony
of the skeleton underneath
Survival instinct is my enemy
Survival instinct is my enemy
he’s always there when I try to be free
there was a moment when I thought
the end would come
but he kicked out
and I survived another fight
My survival instinct is my enemy
why won’t he listen to these thoughts in my head
I want to be returned to the earth again
Sunday wordle on a Monday: The Blackbirds Goodnight
The blackbird sang goodnight
in a string of trills
the sunset lighting up the trails
with one last spill
before the day reached its limit
hushed and stilled
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 