I am not afraid.
I am not afraid.
I’m a frayed end
tattered
ragged
unravelling
threadbare
fretting
Sweating the big and the little stuff and fluff
I am not afraid.
I am a scribble on paper
angrily scrawled
A flipbook
restlessly static
Tangled in squiggles
you can rip me up
scratch the pages, my skin
I am not afraid
I’m a badly drawn boy
dressed in a mans masquerade
Wrestling with these thoughts
Pacing up and down these four walls
Trying to contort myself
Into feelings I don’t have
Hoping to Box myself into the calm
Contorting myself into someone
I could never be
Wishing I could just
Pull myself up by the bootstraps
Twiddle and twirl my moustache
And be the man I keep thinking I ought t be
An epitome of man and calm
But with assertiveness as my next charm
Perhaps if I part my receding hair to one side
And wear a pair of matching socks
Suit and maybe a tie
To strangle the feelings in a noose
I’ll become the man I envisioned
Instead of the patchwork of a man
Barley complete and far from calm.
Who you tryin’ to kid anyway
You’re just a man, on the fray
Falling at the seams
Collecting the shards of all your broken dreams
Sharp enough to cut your wrists
You’ve got desperation in your eyes
It’s in your reflection
Who you despise
You want to be someone else
Who you are, makes you unwell
You’re dying but you figure
Everyone else is dying too
So what does it matter
If you linger
Isn’t that what everyone else is doing anyway?
I wanted to be a pillar
Against all that can break
Steady against the waves
Without taking on the pain
Taking everything in my stride
Letting no harm pass
Into the crevices of my mind
I wanted to be the man
With that fierce mentality
Who knew all about brutality
While being one of the friendliest guys
You wouldn’t wanna get on the wrong side of him
But he’d sooner help you than get in a fight
I wanted to be that man
But I’m nothing
Without you by my side.
New posts every Tuesday.
Comment, like, share & follow.
I am not the man I hoped to be
The boy who looks back doesn’t look up
To me
Sit and listen to
The sound of the pitter patter
That abounds
Like constant white noise
Asserting no significant attention
Just the buzz of human relations
Like the wings of a bee
Humming the language of nations
Industrious working of this socialisation
Working its way through the psyche
Of many generations
While clowns look to the clouds
With wisdom in their jest
And hearts of lions pounding in their chest
Perhaps detained
But noticing every freedom
Has it’s own cage
And seeing that maybe
As caged birds flaps their wings
Can a man surely dare to dream?
An impressive moustache
Is an ode to itself
A man equipped with such
Magnificence
Is sure to be an influence
Good or bad though
The answer is ambiguous
It’s all in how the man
Uses his moustaches significance
I look for peace & harmony no longer
For seeking it is the biggest war
Man has ever waged
No need to tie that bow
You’re not going to a wedding
Just a shitty party down the road
Don’t take that comb
Through your hair
Trying To hide your peaks widow
You’re not the gentleman that, that image represents
But you already know
You’re just a lazy sod
Dressed in a smart man’s clothes.
I’m going to wear slippers
While dressed in a smart suit
As I go along with my endless pursuits
Never could find a place
To put down my roots
Living out of bags
Always an urge just to up and vamoose
Forget brushing my hair
Fuck that bloody hair mousse
Forget looking spick and span
I’m no Bruce Wayne, no flipping batman
No six pack to be had
Unless you add the beer cans
‘Eh do ya think that one day
There will be a St Matthews Holiday
In memory of little old me?
No, no. I’m getting ahead of myself
Like I say, I’m not some bloody superman
I’m just a super, super modest man
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 