Tag Archives: art

My last act

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Cut off my sellotaped glasses

staring at asses

of girls I can’t have or marry

carry the child I am into the sham

bury all I am

did I give a damn.

yes yes yes I did…

amid tragic transformation

and a pure imagination

spoilt only by being a man

who cannot understand

the state of this world

So throw my body to the flames

a heart who can’t be tamed

full of tearful shame

and guilt ridden blame

I am the anger inside a coke bottle

shaken with mentos falling inside

afterwards fizzy fallout

I will be spent and full of doubt.

Peter Pan as a Man

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Drifting from day dream dramas

Karma an unhinged beast

feasting on imagination

His righteous indignation

blushing red against his skin

but chained against his respectable aura

he didn’t want to grow up

He’d rather blow up

like a bomb

Songs gather enemies embolden

the golden days are over

fairies watch dying in the distance

His shadow takes over leading him on

Peter Pan as a man

He’s forgotten to dream

to feed the crocodile of time

these are the days that loose their shine

corporate suits kill

never land roots lost

We all grow up he’ll never settle down

lost in psychosis

waiting for cleansing osmosis

telling tales no one believes…

I miss the days

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I miss the bad days

the way you hate me

your words reverberate around my head

we are still in conversation

though in my imagination

sex and beastly claws

the way you wanted more than I could give

I cannot live

without thorns a rose wouldn’t be a rose

I am torn our love wasn’t really love without pain

I am just a blood stained hand holding on

a rose

it’s thorns like all your angry words cutting through skin

love is a tragedy we are all flawed within

yet romantic attachment

when it works

can heal the heart and make it beat like it’s going berserk.

Exceptional

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In the days when the exception they say

doesn’t need correction.

we are all creative

but some have it beaten out of us

at some stage

the war the exceptional person rages

is either to have their words heard

or to keep their creative side alive

and not have it brutalised or strangled

an Angel or messenger of light

has to fight to maintain their angle of light

and their perspective and sight.

Fire burns

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Fire burns

turn the page before it burns away

cinders, words charred

Stars burn

Nuclear fusion

Life is fire or is that an illusion?

Love the unquenchable desire

to form flame

to gather that person’s many names

and love them all

Ashes to ashes dust to dust

The ash forms a tree

Yggdrasil the ash tree of life

Forming us anew

The flames that burn in me and you

If humanity stood for kindness

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If humanity stood for kindness

not for the awful blindness of thinking they were better

if love entered our hearts and we wrote love letters to the earth

in the form of actions and weren’t distracted

and cursed.

then I wouldn’t be a Poet against humanity

I wouldn’t ask questions about our collective sanity

I’d only ask for love and peace

for life is unfair but we are beasts.

If we evolve into beings of light

then we must ask ourselves to fight

for to preserve justice

for that is humanities only hope.

All that remains

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All that remains

is the pain of knowing…

There’s magic in your skin

I want to hold you

my cold, bold heart wants to grasp

your hand

make you understand.

We are possessed by a spirit and it’s yours

for there is no cure for love

except drowning in it.

I ate an apple it reminded me of the sinners tale

but love in a garden cannot fail

if talk and walk again together

I know that the illusion of separation can be severed.

Ugly

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I wish I was so handsome I’d appear in GQ

but if I took off my clothes I’d face ridicule

I wish I my eyes were blue skies

I wish I set women’s hearts on fire

All I have are words

poetry

may trickle from my tongue like a tap

but I am not a male version of a honey trap

I may in some ways be wise

but people may want to keep their eyes closed

but I suppose every truth is like that when exposed.

Magic cannot be taught

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Magic cannot be taught,
It’s there to be done!

Preachers talk
I walk away
Smell their words decay
in the cold light of day.

I wont be psychologist’s puppet
or a teachers pet
those people think they know better
I may live with some degree of regret
but I know life’s first lesson
is that life isn’t fair
it tears apart innocent lives
it makes us grieve
and takes away our belief
In justice
and that injustice causes
all sorts of evils in the world
for every boy or girl.

So follow your own path
and chase the sun
for the we were meant to believe in magic
and real magic cannot be taught its there to be done.