Undead poetry
whispers of poems in every generation
long forgotten
bodies may decay and become rotten
But the words hang in the cold fresh autumnal air.
The undead poet from their grave may save
humanity still
it’s a battle of wills
selling poetry at bookshop tills.
softness and grace left in memories of one’s who knew them the most
although it’s his words live on like ghosts
a gnarled wizard staff
summons the poets craft
summoning words and stanzas
and questions rhymes and answers
Pulling them from sleepy faded ink
to relive times and make us think…
Poets against humanity
If poets continue to circulate their work after death what does an undead poet look and sound like?
A manual for being human
Exit womb
enter hospital room
feed of your mums breast
grow big and strong
play and learn
have an active imagination
listen to the voice that guides you
and makes the most sense
write your story present tense
find beauty in what you like to do
it’s that simple
Make your smile into dimples
don’t focus on looks
it’s your soul being tempered
by life’s fires
give it what it wants
you can change the narrative even if it’s the font
remember people love you even if life gets in the way
be a compassionate friend to yourself first
A Devil’s love
You are scared of my love
it’s ferocious
and fierce
but not enough to pierce
through the void
Like the devil
and God
we are pitted against one another
I was your favourite once
now I have a message for you
I won’t give up
Cave in or die
All I ask is why?
It’s all in your head
It’s all in your head
the schizophrenia
the uncertainty
behind the curtains of your mind
to be special,
to be magic is to be tragic
to be alone
than one of your drones
is your superhero ability or curse
left in the storm of denial
we are all crazy here
with broken smiles
token, broken people
who believe in science and logic
So pluck your theories from the air
and prove you care
you make the meaning
even if your dreaming
It’s all in your head
so drive yourself mad
and stand alone
even the devils throne
is not comfortable but it’s home
Collapsible sentences poem
End of an Era (TikTok video)
The erosion of empathy
You play hero I will play villain
though shades of grey exist and the truth not always willing
to rear it’s ugly head
filled with the expectation of being cancelled
and being heard
or Amber Heard
is different from being adept
or Johnny Depp.
we are divided down many lines and labels
and what we are being told merely a fable
when we can’t take it with a pinch of salt
and we halt
and can’t show a sign of empathy
How did life and judgement get so unjust
and all cards we hold are bust
because we no longer care just lust over celebrities
while our empathy is eroded and no treaty
or thought police AI can save us
from not understanding the people we see before us.
Pestilence
I am a prison of puppets
muppets who can’t free themselves
Supermarket shelves bare
I am cursed
empty pursed.
lips dry and empty
swept under the Carpet of artificial grass
I can’t be arsed
freedom is too hard a task
I am can’t save myself
for all grasping
rearrange the letters in my name
it spells denial
I can smile
but happiness won’t change a thing
I can’t stop dreaming
scheming
a way out of dread
but pestilence fills my head…