Tag Archives: storytelling

This poet

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This poet isn’t meat and bones

He feels like cold stone 

this poet lacks confidence 

Walls collapse and collide 

with his speech

with wounds you can only teach 

hurt

This poet tells ugly truths 

with minimal evidence or proof

he holds it like business card in his heart

life unfolds like a shopping cart

til tart solutions

This poet feels full 

his heart holds his universe

it’s his curse

All poems tell a tale 

dripping ink 

Bleeding from the quill

I can’t even imagine life without those words

but like birds 

they have flown

To a new throne 

cold and alone…

Reality folds

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Reality folds 

like cold magic 

origami of sorts 

we play games with people like they are sports

our retorts 

litter more than plastic 

we get sick 

sicker than we are laid in our casket 

What happened to the child 

in our hearts 

We are nothing more than happy shoppers with shopping carts

This reality is an exchange of ideas of money of time 

but we can’t see beyond the lines 

that take control

take our minds our bodies our souls 

we tell our selves they are words

but we aren’t even as free as the birds 

which fly free in the sky 

we are the prophecies 

with our opportunities 

we our the sickness we accumulate 

we are the best and the worst 

the sanguine curses

Hell which lives with hope 

but hope is a bird that lives in a cage

singing in its hopeful rage… 

Misunderstood

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Sometimes I want to be understood 

but I know people look at me like dead wood

They might think I am stand offish 

that I don’t belong in an office 

That I am unsociable 

or just plain weird 

Someone to be feared

I have walked the corridors in mental institutions 

I am reminded that most truths are illusions 

that there aren’t many solutions

in this life

and trauma are the wounds that often get reopened by people 

who aren’t evil

but are ignorant 

and every where people are playing games to gain attention 

that’s where identity survives 

But I am in the minority because I won’t fit in the racket 

of this life’s corrupt core

I barely survive grasping at straws 

every day a war

to be heard amongst the shouting words of others

I stand with the misfits

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I stand with the misfits 

All the ones from broken homes

the ones who are single and left alone

the ones deemed special

and yet not treated as treasure 

I stand with the poets and artists observers of life

Picking muses that will never be there wives or partners 

I am disheartened 

But I will stand with those that give and never receive 

those who believe 

that giving their hearts and time is important 

and worth their reason and rhyme 

and weight of time

there’s a special kind of heaven awaiting these people who need healing 

I like to believe 

May they find their Elysium fields 

where they will be met 

without any painful regrets 

Lonely people

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Only people 

with hidden sparks of divinity

looking into the mirror 

getting shivers 

and quivers 

Looking for love but love doesn’t deliver

another endeavour 

feat of the gods 

the odds 

and ends of messages 

we send 

The revolving door

of lives 

when will hope truly arrive 

karma 

another charmer 

but a bell chimes

and it alarms us

we are living fast food lives

Our souls the only thing 

that isn’t disposable 

water hoses us down 

but we can’t get to the deep

conversations

we permanently seek to leave words 

of comfort even if they are lies 

and we surrounded by people 

with mole like eyes.

Forever lonely only children 

Capitalism will eat us all

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First it came in the name of being free
and having dignity
no more slavery
Then it gave us recession
We turned on ourselves
Austerity’s court was in session
boom and bust
lusting after other peoples wealth
Tax havens for the rich governed by stealth
then came war epidemics and famine
we turned on ourselves
shops shelves bare
we only care
about our own
immigrants were the first to be enslaved or deported
then the disabled who couldn’t work
were eaten up but the system
Under the guise of fairness,Eugenics
and pandemics
then the working class were enslaved again
under the pen
and keyboards of corporations
The middle class became the working class again
While billionaires became trillionaires
Meanwhile planet earth festered and burned
and the rich found that you can’t eat digital currency and cash
as we dreamt of a bubble that burst like a infected gash.
Love was always the answer
hatred is a cancer
I wonder when we realise the path we are on
was the wrong one