Beat box
Sounds the same
dubstep bass sound gains
the themes of songs will they run out
recycled like words of revolution
films and their titles
characters and dance recitals
books and villains
psychosis and chilling vendettas
is anything really new?
colours and musical spectrums
songs on the radio, a selection
the human condition and reality
dragging out themes
daydreams scream
they generate our generations dreams
can we be different
can we be new
can ideas be lost
can they grow inside of you?
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 was wild and free once upon a time
a child with time and rhymes
but my parents can’t listen
just thought of me being bad
curbing my behaviour
they couldn’t be my saviours
I went quiet wanting to start a riot
It could have gone two different ways
but life strays on to one path
the aftermath of which
made me a background poet
my poetry is the ink I bleed
from wounds I don’t need
My parents need me to be their counsellor
but I can’t
I just can’t…
cycles can be broken
when loves awoken
but sometimes I want to fight back
to see the crack
of light through the walls.
The warmth of a fire
in a welcoming home.
The way the words settled I was not alone,
time spent with friends
the tying of loose ends
and memories made in all seasons
reasons why we made this place is home
the love and friendship I was shown
whether playing board games with others
or just laying and chilling out under bed covers
we made this our home
and we feel safe and respected
with freedom to roam.
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.
When billionaires are sitting on more money than a lords hoard
and their money is in a tax haven abroad
can a billionaire work harder than overstretched nurse?
and the nurse has to go to a food bank because of their empty purse
It’s exploitation of peoples hard work.
DNA well folded origami in our bodies
Oddly containing characters characteristics and souls
We grasp at a identity
a sequence
sequential given
Maybe DNA is musical notes
and a rhythm
To our heart beat.
No matter how you change the font
words stay the same
I know I am not your type, am I to blame?
I could be made of muscles with six pack and broad shoulder and arms of Steel
but I am not
I could be a scientist with a silver tongue eloquent or just very well hung
I am me there is only one version of myself
I can’t change
or rearrange
I realise my limitations
I won’t be able to perform and act as an imitation
I am who I am
Love me or let me go
for its you I love I know you know!
I love you’s drawn across the sky
we are the passages of time that never die
I met you many times
we held hands and I spoke my rhymes
they nestled in your ears
and spoke to your heart
and even if we are far apart
I live inside your mind
these are the times
when the goddess answers my call
Our love will never be small
I am awake
You are asleep, dreaming
I am screaming
as you break my heart
you are thinking
I am dumbfounded
surrounded by angels who hate me
You are the night and stars
I am the sun
you are my earth my sky
the fire in which we both die
I waited my whole life to burn with you.