Raindrops streaming down windows
fingers tracing a line
doing nothing
Slinking into the shadows
away from the fray
being idle, watching the rain
nothing to do, or say
no need to try
everything just is something
you’re not dazzled
like a moth
with all those blinding lights
glaring back from the sheen on the streets
like foxes eyes
the night a predator
sharp and free
but you won’t be the prey
in which it seeks
Poetry
Wordle: I cry my land it’s tears
I cry my land it’s tears
touching the winter
in frost
the wheels of time having churned
our vigil to summer
burning in candlelight
Learning what living looks like
in winter time
when skeletal remains of leaves
dissolve into carpets of dirt
I didn’t manage to use all the words in the list.
Sunday wordle on a Monday: No prince
I picture her shimmering in the wind
sin, etched on her face
in the shape of a grin
disorderly conduct
a glimmer in her eyes
the girl without a name
always dropping by
and when she comes close
stories rise
about the miles and miles she’s been
looking for frogs to kiss
and now she knows there is no prince
Shared words: Poem 2 – Castles in my eyes
The reflection of castles in my eyes
take me away from this mundane life
the turrets marking the sunrise
my head a balloon floating on the clouds
down there on earth the sirens permeate our lives
a journey through emergencies
pulling the strings of our hearts
always being sold ‘discoveries’
with promise that it will be a new start
all that excitement of new eras
before they pull us apart
Sunday wordle: Children of the storm
We are the children of the storm
hung out to dry on the washing line
it’s all the fashion all the rage
to be outraged
a surge of hate
to counter our ‘revolution’
because we’re freaks
not ready for the role of human
Candyman
In the highway of your unconscious mind
Do you remember
I was a jester, a clown
trying to turn your frown pink
with those fluffy candy clouds
and we rode that ride with the face
streaming lights in our eyes
illuminating our carnival of rust
but I am not the kind of man
that can have friends with complications
so I took you on a trip
to chloroform dreams
and most preposterous of all
is I don’t know why I do such things.
Words used from comment by Poetpas
This poem has no bearing on reality, I have no friends…..
Also ‘carnival of rust’ inspired by one of my faverouite songs with that title.
Sunday Wordle: Break apart
Do you still decry my heart
after all these years
since you watched me fall?
And in your tunnel vision
do you sense
I’m still married to the squall?
do you scry the skies
and see
A little boy who didn’t want to mend
fallen into manhood
trying to break apart
peacefully piece by piece?
In the hopes that in my nothingness
peace could be contained
in all the scattered shards of me
Sunday wordle: Tennis ball
The world is a tennis ball
we’re unravelling her skin
we’re only animals
trying to eat
but we took too much
from the feast
We are a shadow on the earth
turning ourselves into stone
with language that separates us
from the fire in the flame
we burned
Lyrics: Can’t breathe
Sometimes when I can’t quite figure out how to write an idea I get my guitar and play it (badly) and often the strumming brings words out and I will sing (extremely badly) any thoughts that come out of my head.
No I can’t really write music, I just strum a long and see what flows. My guitar playing is…. bad. So I don’t have music to this, and no, I really, really, can’t sing! So it will have to remain written only.
This anxiety has filled my lungs with the sea
I can’t breathe
And I’m supposed to make a recovery
but when I leap up to the surface
I can’t breathe
A fish out of water
in society
And all the people
talk about the likes of me
‘what and who should they be?
I love freedom
look at me
but lock him up
he’s a freak.’
And this anxiety
has filled my lungs with the sea
I can’t breathe
I leap to the surface
a fish out of water in society
and I can’t breathe.
‘We should open up the circus
he can be an orca in a tank
bang your hands and feet against the glass
provoke him and you’ll see
he will seethe
and that will confirm our beliefs
And this anxiety has filled my lungs with the sea
And I can’t breathe
And I’ve got to make a recovery
in this fucked up society
and I can’t breathe
Badly drawn boy
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
