If poets continue to circulate their work after death what does an undead poet look and sound like?
Tag Archives: art
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
My last act
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
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
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
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
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
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.