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.
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
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.
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
GP = Gorilla philosophises
You turn to like minded men & women and then you point over in our direction and say, “Look at them following the herd.” And I turn to my herd and I say, “Look at them, they don’t know they’re in a herd.”
They can’t see that the clouds they follow are sheep.
And they think that what lays ahead of their shepherd is a field of freedom to which he is leading them, but up ahead there is always another shepherd.
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
There is a gust of wind
Trifling through these rivers of blood
And for a moment I hesitate
I sense I might be too late
Can’t protect you
From the hammer about to fall
So I guess we’ll
Have one epic night
Before the curtains call
And shall I act the gentleman when intoxicated by anger?
Simply twirl my moustache and walk away?
For what fairness is this, If I am the victim
Of an abusive charade?
What if another, an outsider lets say
Walks in and witnesses my anger on a particularly bad day
Would they not side with him, my nemesis?
For they would not have the eye that beholds
The images of all our yesterdays
And his bitterness and abusive ways
How does one act with stoicism
When anger curdles the blood within one’s veins
When there is injustice being etched
Upon the lines of my face
Perhaps one day becoming my age
And for moments in glimmers of time
I see to it that he remains only human in my mind
But then a sadness my own and his, I should well imagine
Leaks from my eyes
And empathy kicks in
Only to find it makes me angrier
The next time he crosses the line
For I burdened myself with sadness for him
When I have my own dark abyss
Fearing I haven’t experienced the scars
That are his
And thus undeserving of this sadness
For surely I haven’t been through enough
For such madness
And that makes me a terrible man
To think I’ve suffered enough to be sad!
Yet here it is, it beckons in my heart
An emptiness that is full
That could tear even oceans apart
A depression so deep
I never really know where to start.
Together we are a symphony
That repels order and time
We’re nothing special
Merely mortal homo sapiens
Delirious through having conscience
And all the reasons we cannot sleep
I’ve got a paper dog
inside my head
leading me astray
a graveyard of cigarette butts
Buried in ashes of grey
the doctors said…
Well, I don’t listen to what they say
and I’ve fallen in and out of love
in less than a day
and this paper dog
Is spewing it’s guts
In my brain
Humping paper dolls
Trying to bust a nut
I should get him done
But…
He’s a friend.
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 