We are not the voice of the world
For we’re part of a choir of other animals that can be heard
To plant a seed and watch it sprout
Is not unique to us my friends
For with nature
We are not without.
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Time’s indifference
…
All the while
Your own world, still
With the rush of time
By the windowsill
Trying to reconcile anguish
With the stretch of indifferent hours
The clap of a birds wings
Bringing you into the present
Nothing harmonized
Feelings still the same
Despite the heartless
Whims of the clock
Telling you it’s
A new day
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New posts on Tuesdays.
Left me blue
Throwback Thursday
New posts every Tuesday
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I don’t want to let you go
I want to float away with you
I want to go into oblivion too
My identity insists on you
I can still hear your footsteps echoing
I’m trying to reconstruct these memories
Sharp as razor edges, broken in pieces
I’m trying to find our reflection
But all I see is a stranger fading from me
Your face began to wane
And now you look like anyone
And I’m afraid
Because though you’re slipping away
I’ve left a part of me too
And it’ll always be with you
But all you left me
Were different shades of blue
2014-2015 (c)
Mist
She was missing
And the world didn’t exist
But only in the periphery
Inside an ocean storm
Lightning flickering
A twist of the waves
Set adrift
This lonely of places
And time dismissed
Your feeble heart
Rolling on careless
Into new eras
In which you couldn’t
Be taken apart
Nor fixed
For you no longer
Remain
Lost idly
In the mist.
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Throwback Thursday: Twisted love
Written in 2015
The original:
Your kiss like a blade upon my skin
Naked before you, you delve deeper into my wounds
I don’t know if this is love or hate
But I can’t seem to walk away
I know I should run
But your eyes cut me down to size
I’m not big enough to take the road
I’m just a scared boy inside
Waging a war behind elusive eyes
And your ice cold kiss lays me down for the night
In my ice cold tomb where a soldier lost his fight
And your finger tips like knives
Cut across my skin
Full of sex and full of life
And your ice blue eyes are the only thing keeping me cold at night
This frost is a lesson learnt
And upon a body of curves I trace your skin
Like it’s a map of life
We hold on tight, waiting, hoping, wanting
For a fire to ignite.
Written 2018
Edited version:
Your kiss like a blade upon my skin
Naked before you, I stand betrayed
Cigarettes burning us to ash
I know I should run
But I’m just a scared boy inside
Waging war behind these eyes
Your ice cold kiss lays me down for the night
In my ice cold tomb where a soldier lost his fight
And your finger tips like knives
Cut my skin
And upon a body of curves I trace your skin
Like it’s a map of life
Holding on tight, waiting, hoping, wanting
For a fire to ignite.
Which one is better? Original or Edited?
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Bridges
I’ve thought about the bridges you’ve crossed
While crossing my own rickety scaffold
And told myself not to judge another’s walk
The miles they’ve tread
But then you trespass the boundaries
And always think you’re in the right
While I pick up the pieces from
The pathways you’ve destroyed
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Warriors
Throwback Thursday
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Burdened with this
The bull will run
Going head first
The blood will come
Running with this
The world will rain
Hurting, we bleed
The storm will reign
Upon us
This mercy
The needle to our veins
And when we wake up
The warriors in us
Will have been slain
© 2015
My philosophy corner
If you like my posts where I’m more philosophical then follow my new blog
Expect humour as well and probably profanity.
Platitudes
Surrendering to this moment
In the haze of these platitudes
The sun brings out your optimism
But I’m not aboard your ship
I sink in all weathers
Storm or sun
Tidal wave or none
Chiseling away at my skin
While I curl as a boulder
And remain within till it’s over
Treading through my own disturbance
Your truism’s matter none
New posts every Tuesday.
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My truths
Throwback Thursdays.
Written in 2016.
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New posts every Tuesday.
I’m a master baiter
Got you hook line and sinker
Even though you think yourself a free thinker
But one smile and virtue signalled
And you’re all over the advertisement
Approving of my blemished truths
Trusting me not to be uncouth
Thinking I should sell myself and my cure
On business cards stuck in telephone booths
Talking my lines down the wires
To ears undisturbed by my truths
