Is anything really new anyway?

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?

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…

Voiceless child

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 heart felt home

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.

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.

I can’t be the man you want

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!