The horizon calls it the end
Of an era
What will the clouds say?
Cause inside my head they’re still grey
Can’t believe it’s come to this day
I tried to be the boy that couldn’t be moved
Now you’ve cut the strings
And I’ve been let loose
Oh god, now it’s all mine to choose
But I’m all alone
Wishing I could talk to you
They say go forth and don’t look back
But inside I’m still the boy
Who wouldn’t be moved
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 August
Trying to stand at ease after a storm
looking to the sky
as if the answers will be written in the horizon
nothing is crystal clear
And if any man should doubt me, Rudyard Kipling
Says I should still preserve
But what if the man who doubts me
Is the one staring back in the mirror?
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 August
Don’t preach your sentiments
I don’t understand
To say the least I find your words nebulous
never quite defined, always ambiguous
trying to explain everything
When you clarify nothing
I’m guilty of the same
In late night rambles
But you preach it all day
At the front of a church
In the name of some god
I don’t take too kindly to your assumptions
Based only on your superficial judgements
You don’t know me
Don’t pretend god told you everything
You don’t know a fucking thing
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 August
I can picture you having fun
Dancing under the moon
Till the morning sun
A drink in your grasp
Your body moving to the rhythm
Feeling nothing but the moment
No future, no past
I can almost smell
The perfume radiating from you
Being circulated round the room
As your body spins
just oozing fun and sex
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 July
Embrace the corduroy phase
Wear them in black then
Slowly fade to beige
It’s not a sign of age
It’s a temperament change
Some arrive from black to red
Standing out from the crowd
But they’re usually certified insane
Enjoy the tracksuit/sweatpants stage
Those lazy days
Where what you’re wearing feels like a hug
Around your legs
All warm and snug
As a bug in a rug
Love white sports socks
I don’t care what they say
Along with grey Y fronts
Yea that’s right, Y fronts
It’s not about age
It’s about comfort in simplicity
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 July
They saddle up on their high horses
And frown on us
Cause they think they know
The Man
And they don’t see the blood
On their hands
‘Cause they think
The Man will understand
And they preach that when
the man comes around
We’ll be the gallows rumour
Suspended over the gallows humour
Burning feet first
For all the blessings cursed
And every prayer is just rehearsal
For when the flames immerse us
Upon their high horses
They will frown upon us…
Cause they think they know
The man
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 July
You dazzled me
In your casual dress
your perfume drifting
in the breeze to my nostrils
You were certified to impress
And what bliss it is
Just to sit here next to you
© Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 July
Setting myself apart
No heart on these sleeves
No tears for you to see
Squared myself off
No longer feeling part of this
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 June
Shadows
Under red glow
outside thunder
No one knows
the sordid details
of us in the throes
Bodies colliding
No heroes
under red glow
Shadows moving
But they don’t know
This feeling
Blow by blow
©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 June
No picture for this one, you be the judge on what this one is about.
In fact no more pictures for my poetry, the words shall speak for themselves from here. If that means less people pay attention, so fucking be it.
Hate often arises from taking love too seriously
So don’t worship the ground I walk on
See me for my flaws an all
Be irritated if need be
But we’ll always come back
When the curtains are drawn
© Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 June
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