Train poem #1

Cold air runs through the warm box,

The wheels churned the tracks, so train slogs on.

The music leaves me deaf and the silence outside is eerie,

The portraits that surround me are locked in frame,

No smiles, no movement still souls in transit.

The Ancient trolley wobbles through the gallery,

A one-man band of crashes and snack’s,

Offering alcohol, to bring the spirits back.

Every stop comes then soon passes,

Ignored by the masses,

Noted down on page

By those pretentious asses

Who harbour desire to break up “normality”

With the tap, tap, tap of technology     

To break a cycle with repetitive motions

Then while the train shoots of in a flash

The rest of them remain, models in a still life class

the motion isn’t easy

the outside is a blur

the angels in my ear

serenading

the sound paints the world

as more than fuzzy browns and greens

animating those who stare there at their screens

but I guess that’s also me

inside my mind I’m simply locked in my perspective

I wonder what the lady across would say

About my little word collective

“well ill have you know you little prick

That I don’t look boring

I fink I’m quite fit

Besides you’re the creep searching around

Like an addict looking for a fix

For something to say or write

Some nonsense and the like

Cause your as bored, plain and still as the rest of us

Right?”

I guess she’s got me there

The train is just a syphon for the life inside us

From the boy on the laptop

To the bloke on the kindle

Even the couple who just got on chatting

But now stare at their own phones

Without a kiss or glance between to ever happen

Trained to switch off the moment we sit down

To recoil inside ourselves as deep as we can go

In case we should ever dare to connect with anyone else 

Spirits

I found the spirit that I needed

It lifted me up from my chair.

Paused my breathing.

It was raw yet frigid,

Clawed at my throat.

Though it lacked weight

This drink helped me float.

It flowed in my glass- mirror

Image of myself looking back,

Fuzzy like my vision,

Blurred like my past.

To a witness in the bar they

See a fallen figure double down

Dousing fires in their soul

But the liquor burns them quicker,

Till the fire behind their eyes

 let’s you gaze into their hell.

I prayed I’d never do this:

Never follow a father,

Who preached Vatican titles,

Yet smothered his issues

in booze and substance abuse.

Then went to church the next day

and begged for his forgiveness,

who then came later anyway

continuing misuse.

I’m not a man of faith

But I will not be a liar

Ill pray to any god who’ll love me,

Stop me drinking

Like my father.

Valentines day xoxo

I hope you find a better man

I hope you love him more than you want to admit

I hope he whisks you away, hand in hand.

I bet he’ll give you joy that’s firm and true

I bet he’ll slip inside you, pleasures of a sinner

I bet he’ll put the drive in your dreams like a knight, shining ardour.

I hope he take you out for fancy dinners

I hope he takes you places in his fancy car

I hope you wait for his reply till midnight, then text him franticly till daylight.

I know you’ll think about him non-stop, his face runs through your brain, blinding motion

I know you’ll call him right after work, the thoughts seep everywhere, vast ocean

I know you’ll tell him how your feeling, how your heart with rapidity is beating blood around your chest if you cut a vein, the blood would gush out more emotion than you could ever hope to express.

I hope the phone glares in your face

I hope the ring runs on till you hang up

I hope your inbox becomes an empty place.

I want you to stay because you need him, no want

I want you to have arguments over the code to his phone

I want him to do wrong, then you love him more and love yourself less.

I hope when you see him you’re on edge

I hope when he sees you he looks away

I hope his voice will haunt your dreams, as it echoes “I love you” rhythmically.

I hope he dumps you through the phone

I hope you spend the nights alone

I hope your heart sinks low like the tears on your face.

I want you to bury your head in your pillow

I want you to bury your feelings to no avail

I want him to date a new bitch within a week.

I think about you every second.

Dedicated to jojo

Pink

Pink is the flesh

Pink is the pig

Pink like the meat

Pink innards squished

Pink in the eye

Pink the disease

Pink on the rise

Pink pastel sighs

Pink the depression

Pink bright on the outside

Pink for a woman

Pink now for men

Pink as a stigma

Pink as raw blood

Pink elephant stance

Pink stubborn yet fair

Pink’s attentive air

Pink flushed cheeks

Pink emotions: rushed and bleak

Pink that colour of rosy cheeks

Pink badge of the awkward and shy

Pink stands out, bold, proud

Pink neon rave

Pink making slaves

Pink is white plus red

Pink is the colour

Of a privilege left for dead

Annual decline (a poem on how this year has felt)

Drain the well of words, see the lack of thought thereof and the realisation that twenty sixteen was. The year of dead dreams: now philosophy, ironically, has stagnated for all to see.

Subjective now objective the objective to subject them,

those who don’t agree, who dare not to see. racist liberal greedy illogical free

market closed minded. Bleeding heart, catastrophising.

Open then forced to close, like the case of our time, you stay in your bubble i'll stay in mine.

People of our planet causing constant verbal crime.

Support the change.

Triggered and deranged, hold back the wave racist white slaves,

No grey.

All clean.

Two poles.

All extreme. The fence wrenched down now the world is a battleground, a trillion words floating around, proudly yelling factual blurs, rage and cursing, homophobic slurs, one comment to another warring as lost brothers on every topic that we conceive.

Hear no evil see none too but speak it all and claim its for the good you do, debates no longer exist baiting is the key, cool kids getting edgy to swim in the screams. Two sides now two lines.

Parallels, one direction no change no shift, bullshit take a stride, turn, ride into the night with open eyes see the chinks in their armour and yours and mine. Arguments turn to war no victor, brains littered with bodies intellectual litter causing young minds to decay in fathoms.

have you ever heard the tragedy of humans reverting to animals?

Footnote: This is more of a spoken word piece that will evolve into that medium when i feel confident to do so, in the meantime here's the written poem.

~ Peace

The uplifting tale of a stagnant Drone

I: Drones lone moan

Drone woke up. Slide out of bed like drone does

What a drone won't do is not beyond me or you

Because we all think or do what the lone drone do-

No does because drones like a worker bee

Slowly shifting with a buzz blended with a background

Chitter chatter turns to fuzz-

Wait fuzzy, when words don’t fit to form drone finds it

Funny, like his t-shirt worn un-un-ironically

The design is so absurd it makes him feel solemn

See the drone isn't like the rest

He wears a black shirt to show he’s best-

Bestial is what I meant to say

 See the lone wolf has a dress code of its own

But the one in sheep's clothing this time it's the drone.

II: creative limit braking

Drones gotta leave home makes his

Own path but to do that he thinks that

New roads should be taken

Drone wouldn’t break his back in an industrial

Work pack

Or herd but drone has heard

That you can live life through spoken word

It's open and free for everybody

Even if  your stories shoddy or if

Drone has body of work doesn’t fit

The rest of the boring shit recommended

For not taking risk’s

See drones work is mean, obscene

Just makes people depressed see

You can be creative but you have to make it

Make sense in way that won't offend those on

The fence if life's worth living

Or if a lack of originality should make them livid.

Oh well…

Its okay drone can post online anyway

With random ants and faces commenting every day

Oh cool great stuff keep it up

Oh I love you work cant get enough

Read my stuff…

Oh have you read it yet hate to nag

Oh what do you mean its bad not true

Oh you don’t like well I won't compliment you

It's not clever or funny nor uplifting its droll

Your writing is empty and sad like a hole

It can be sad but don't criticize us

Use a disease if you please

Something we can't control

Or a drone who was bad evil mad

People are good happy and jolly

The notion we ruin is absolute folly

Shame that the writing is unlikely to molly-coddle

Prick like a holly splinters from a lolly stick

That’s how our drone writes painfully quick.

III: socio-tally/ progressive digression

Dot dot dash

Harsh but rash

A statement on the state of which our world lasts

Cycling sight inability to break chain

Aim for the stars in vain then claim

To ascertain that the old has gained

New

Meaning depth style weight gravity

Drags us down to where we came

Throw on ten of the same robes

Like the hole in youths earlobes

The styles roll on they go on

Slow us, move on

Reboot remake redesign

Realign priorities screaming

a drone Begging, on his knees

Ears bleeding

Tears green

With envy of the futures gleam

Possibilities of unforeseen

Drone cries for ten-years  wait

The future is a bait for the tech snake

Wraps our world in a hold so cold

It can hardly breathe over the smog

Cold is a lie, heat is the truth

But drone said change is good

Move forward it said we should

Change is like a grenade

Could say it’s a dud but put it to a blade

Explodes the world  before  the past can fade

so what can we do when the drone who cried fly

see’s the Icarus in those that lie

a foundation of the  cyber steamrolling nation

Change sees after this lab session

Progression of western put to testing finds

Tech is better left, alone

 Is what it leaves us

IV: troughs and trenches

This is the last I’ll be heard of.

I, the drone can't do it anymore.

These issues that riddle me are closing my life to a draw.

I asked a doctor, for help, the aid that I seek.

The response I got? Shallow and meek.

Told me I should pop pills, hollow out my soul to improve my mental state.

If not reduce the toll by explaining what ails me, so they can relate.

The issues that hold me make me wallow and cry.

I'm scared when I see people, or hear a laugh when I pass buy.

The illness is the horse that gets paranoia past the gates of troy

My inner voice doesn’t love me. My outer voice doesn’t work.

I can’t tolerate the seclusion but being surrounded makes it worse.

I didn’t want to take a pill. I'd feel weak and insecure.

I didn’t want to seek therapy. I couldn’t explain myself at all.

If a doctor can't help me  then I can't either.

Shaking is bad, trembling is worse.

It's like my heads a bank and my hearts the purse.

I keep depositing cheques but my balance is worse.

When I notice a loan that I never took out.

That loan is stuck in my brain.

It’ll never come out.

V: Ordinary obituary

Drone came

Drone saw

Drone lost

His thinking pricey, his life

The cost

He never tried to be good

(certainly wasn’t great)

Never tried to spread hate

(Not that anyone could care)

You could almost say

He was always (never) there

Loved by all cherished by many

(But when I was buzzing did anyone help me)

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

Ceremony

He didn’t die, sad lies

He escaped from a life where the bugs couldn’t

Flie’s swirl round decay and feed off the rot

They feed and the fatten

Till there small hearts pop

They know there forsaken

Know that their

Lost

Flies see the future

Pointless

But they never stop.

Drone loved stories

Tales, books, poems

Remember how when you were a kid?

You flicked to the end of a book, Then closed the lid

Drone misses the days when he was a child

So when he saw his own story was sad, frustrating mess

Drone skipped to the end, Missed out the rest.

Cold cant Cover, Frost will fade

I crawl out my bed, the light is gone are my eyes even open? God, I can’t tell. the absence of light keeps me lost in my safety. As I leave the womb of comfort the ice digs into my knees, forcing me to halt my pace the feeling of loss perhaps an ex-lover's embrace. A lonely state that’s soon replaced, by those whose shoal I’ve been assigned, I say shoal why? Not only are we out of our depths, no longer are we in familiar waters, while we start at three, Non-disclosed comradery. Now we three bump into four more, battalions on a field of a glacial war. Where now is that grip I once felt from that icy witch, I know now that her barks worse than her bite, tundral bitch. This harsh reality of a constant solidarity surrounded by thousands of living things but all refuse to be seen. I shuffle slow still growing myself, big steps wide world. Where do we go now? Go back, maybe. Light draws in but the fog won't lift it rolls down the hills as the wind roars “leave” we don’t belong here that much is clear. I see the figures in the trees, the rustle of the leaves. This witch is like my anguish which is lost inside my thoughts, madness. The pain that hurts you most is the one you know is coming. Everything i feel is like a songbirds humming, the emotion it evokes is subjective at most, even hearing one note should draw out of us, hope. Were surrounded by infinities of things and beings you and me and the detail of it all is what draws out some beauty. Two held hands, a true horizon, the sun breaks out like the kindness inside, mutters of offers and other such talk a family linked in an early morning walk. I’m not stumbling now, my pace is brisk the dawn has broken no more shadows in the mist, just like the paranoia the veil is lifted as it rises with our spirits I see all the wonder we’ve been gifted.

Footnote: stuck in a forest for a few days one of pieces im working on for my uni course but i felt like uploading it in a more rough state as it has a bit more honesty too it.

~ Peace