These feelings are caged in civilised speak
but I’ve got a book of matches that strike against my bones
and every breath I take
Is oxygen to this rage
Inside my skull the passenger in my brain
recites all the shit you’ve done
the things I’ve said and the unsaid dead
grinding down my teeth
as my tongue twists and writhes helter skelter
Seeking primal scream
poems
Dragons Glimpse
Golden shimmers upon dragons glimpse
Secrets spread in wild fringe
The air holds the names of battles, grim
Where illusions stir us from our skins
Cradled in the world that churns us in
The skeletal remains of our chagrin
Trapped in cage of ribs
The butterflies flitter away our whims
Sunday wordle: education, education, education in British school
The monotonous yellow hum of the lights held us sideways
Our bags all a rustle on our backs
Contorting us into hunchbacked old children
Our grandfather’s legacy in our faces
Ever mercurial, our expressions of piety
To the altar of education, education, education
As we tried to find the shadows of what we learnt
Within that yawning void of hums
Trains of thought sacrificed along with the gleams in our eyes
As we breathed ourselves closed
Speeding headlong till it burnt behind our eyes
Mercy was a talisman we tried to wear with pride
Like armbands
As we gazed upon the rumours of our futures, swimming the tide
And the scars of the place held us in contempt
Before any crime
The long black train
Trying to learn to be captivated by the moment
but
All these thoughts get away from me
and I give chase
never catching the momentum of now
but all the tomorrows
like how one day
someone I love will slip away
And I want to fight against the indifference of the universe
but it wouldn’t fear me anyway
I could bend and break all the rules
But time will still etch itself onto my mother’s face
I could photograph all these candid moments
light capturing my father’s face
but in the end, even the lights paintings will fade away
and I wear a mask of calm
But these butterflies are held
each flutter pulls a different trigger
and time keeps rushing
The long black train that can’t be stopped.
Poetry off the cuff: It was a blast
It was a blast
chasing the highs
careening around corners
watching the damselfly’s ride our slipstreams
Little beetles, hitchhikers on our shoulders
each riding on the energy of each other
Poetry off the cuff: A Snippet of time
The birds perched on the powerlines
little musical notes
People sped by in their exoskeletal suits
hands-on wheels and eyes on their pursuits
Weeds grew toward the sun
only opening when the rays would meet them
A man sped by with a mower
and the flowers bled pollen
The birds sang songs of blood and sex
a territorial language penetrating the sky
Traffic lights glowed red
as did the embers of time
Another sunset
before the next sunrise
Poetry off the cuff: Three things are certain in this life; Death, taxes and anxieties.
Death will blow my breath away
one day
Sooner than most
so they say
But
Perhaps a fascist takeover
will kill me
‘fore my heart wins out
and pulls me to the ground
Day 20: Hung on
I hooked my umbrella to the words
and hung on
a heron waiting to unfurl
clinging to this song
waiting for the moment
to be okay with the world
rain and wind
blasting storms
life is a river, never static
to every word
I hung on
Lyrics: Our alienation
They should have left me to die
before I
became an abstraction
I am alien. (to be repeated twice)
Alienation
walls
made out of talk
our alienation
we’re abstraction
driven to distraction
our alienation
We are alien
I am alien
or are we
Origami people
folded
and put onto earth
as if we never were
a part of her.
Alienation
walls
made out of talk
we’re abstractions
driven to distraction
our alienation
I am alien
We are alien.
(back to 1st verse)
We are alien
Our alienation.
Urban Lumberjack
I’m an urban lumberjack
Wielding an expresso
And an axe
Got a roll of smokes
Always share ‘em with my mate Jack
And he spoons ‘em off to our friend Mack
Jacks wife and I
Got that sexual tension
We do the dance
When we get the chance
Jack don’t mind
After all, I’m the one with the axe!
(C) 2016 March
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