Tag Archives: Man

Mortal Man

malcolm-1

Can mortal man get everything his way?

As long as there is power to be had and money made

With that religion he’s a God or so he plays

So, acts of God aren’t covered by insurance

Who’s his author? Scriptwriter for this performance

Who’s really under force majeure?

Can mortal man get everything his own way?

Doors open and shut, string has to be cut

How long we can we hold a note?

When is it too short?

Can it ever be the right length?

Can mortal man get everything his own way?

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Just Living, Random Poetics

The Adam Question

Some days I wonder whether Eve in Eden was a case of mistaken identity.

Whether Lizzy or Rachael or Ella were meant to be.

With no childhood memories,

Was their first date a snoozefest laced with pleasantries?

Neither could eat from a template of how they’re meant to be.

With no career or previous history, was their first kiss like conservative virgin sex, full of an awkward intensity?

What was the attraction? Looks or personality or just that she had been made from him for him?

Was she as immaculate as a queen?

Did he need to teach her how to manage the home, cook or clean?

It’ll never reveal whether Eve even had sex appeal

Was love meant to breathe with Eve?

Yes, we see that she was given as his one and only.

Was Adam so lonely or just insanely desperate?

Was he rough and ready to her delicate?

Was she tough and he extremely sensitive?

Had he wanted a slice of heaven for the hell of it?

After the novelty had worn off, did he start regretting it?

Want to curse God for blessing it.

Was he sleeping on her subtleties like a sedative?

Or was the union so heavenly that he wanted to make the best of it.

Knowing she was made for him, did he ever wrestle with this so-called blessing?

After they’d been put together, did angels tell him he’d never looked better?

Did he get that constant reassurance they looked good together?

With no ceremony was this the first true marriage or a cohabitation?

Their mere creation a blessing witnessed by his creator and angels

If Adam had a choice would he have remained faithful?

If we were Adam, would we even be grateful?

Accepting that, though love learns the hard way,

Some lives… you’re made for.

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Filed under Relationships

The Invitation (52/4)

The nest is being broken
Come along, come along!
The nest is being broken
Come along

The sun has awoken,
(For) Manhood chose to clothe him
Come along, come along!

What heart he had now stolen
To plant his seed he’s grown him
Come along

Scraped the barrel.
Found gunpowder
Blew his mind
When he found her
Come along, Come along!

See this late blooming chapter,
Tears of Joy and laughter
Pack the place to the rafters
Come along, Come along

Now if you guard the runway
They’ll be flying on the Sunday
Come along!

Share in vows unspoken
Hope they never will be broken
Come along!

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge

The Skin I’m in (52/ 3)

These roads…
Silverstone by way of Kingston
Smoother than Eden’s Serpentine moments
Once traversed by fleeting caress of the pert, the pompous and puerile
When tourists created a north south divide, I enjoyed the ride

Until the economy of reflection collapsed with consumption
There was no mass protest
Now the maths has caused a mass protest

Though a man united lives in this kings dome
I am a woolly mammoth with the heart of a spartan
Yet closer to obesity than the beast in me
These roads are now shrouded in patches of iniquity
Speed bumps are food mountains and are starved of activity
Pilates the outer judge of the inner me
It’s time to let go of what love handles
This mess I am worshipped by woe

With more recessions than a conservative government
Planting my seed is the only way my heir will go…forward
I’ve got to dig these roads to dig these roads
This skin I call home

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge

28

I’ve been patient as a punchline
Waiting in a lunch line
Life ain’t so plain flying,
Spitfire, run time,
My philosophy’s a gun crime
Got agent’s in the matrices
Grading my depth, plumb line
One accord, Major C’s
Too salty for a dead line
Category be mind engaged
You need but don’t want your personal me
Say you’re sick of aids
Writing’s cool, I do it well
Life’s a movie, where coffins swell
I love naked truth, let’s show and tell
I’d call it porn, but belle this aint chess
Unleashed the beast, my beauty’s stressed
The 411’s the 666,
Systems corrupt and I’m sick sick sick
Of,
Carrying caveman capabilities,
Parrying papal pillagers
Managing mother’s mirages,
Welding women’s worrying
To the responsibilities of being a modern man

Fighting foraging Fungus, best friends, comrades
Con raids on my elements like colonial excavation its
Barrier creation yet they say I’m isolationist
My soul labours like I’m the sole Asian
They give the monkey a platform but not the elevation
I guess I’ll see you next lifetime cos I’m in a situation
See Poetic7’s just trying to be Adrian

So used to being played you’d think I knew craps
All in my head like I love caps, their not my type
DMC knows it’s like that – I tasted fruits, not ripe
Wrote some pot, not smoked, not pipe,
Bombs dropped, never clicked like,
Put me on blast, great height
When irritation is my innovation, detonation is my destination
High light
Played second fiddle to Ebonic Economics
Jungle fever sounds, two-tailed not sonic,
Bossip is e-tonic, it’s not right
I put my soul in a box cause it’s not white
Life used to be so gay

Now it camps in manic moments
Potential means nothing so I’m X’s great exponent
You say you want to know why?
Ring my bell curve, play a tune on my back bone
Interface easy, what’s my name, I Phone?
Jerk Me, I’d moan, blaze the sky at the ruse
Now I come with a contract, and the Ade Bar Blues
Electric dick’s not a fuse
Said I won’t be blown,
I’m not Divine Brown’s Hugh’s
Colossian’s on the microphone
Ready for Pau;l’s letter,
Guess I’ll read it in phases
Signing off Poetic7
Just trying to be Adrian

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Filed under Just Living

Sticking Cells

You say, you have, been treated,
Like an, after, thought in his world
You say, you feel so deceived it,
Bothers you to let yourself unfurl
I know, I’ve not, been perfect,
Yet I was, not that, guy
I am, newness, hoping, to be trueness,
How can we be if we simply don’t try
See it feels, like, I am paying for,
The pain that, he’s left inside
I know, heartaches they stay raw
Yet I can’t, let hurt reside

I know, butterflies, are feelings
I don’t, want yours, to leave so soon,
I can’t, be your babe, if you’re just, playing games
I’ve no, allegiance, to your gloom

Cos I have been broken, by the love I once enshrined
Now I have been woken, to the possibility, it’s the right time

Though, many, many, many, many, men
Would be put off, by your sullen flames
I’ll say, again, again, again, again
You ain’t a trophy, you wont be, this ain’t a game
And it would, be folly
To cut my losses, and try to win without you
I’m about, my business
There’s no balancing it without you

I want to be fly with you, draw
Swim as angel wings through the clouds
I want to fly…..be fly with you
Banishing thunderbolts of doubt

White robes and eternity
I’ll show you what unfading star means
This love is burning me
Can we grow deeper into good ground?

It’s not about making love
till we’ve been made in love
I don’t wan’t that break-in love
Though we ache in love
Cos you are my forethought
Our love is blood bought
And I think of you all the time

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Filed under Relationships

Power

That is the last time that I tie your emotions round my neck and,
stamp that trap door open and
jump off that precipice of not knowing who I am and,
choke myself with your perceptions,
snap my neck with your deceptions as I
Crane myself arching my mind to see your mould and
ignore the mould that settled on my decision to be you instead of the me of old and new
I implored you, adored you, adorned you,
Allowed myself to afford you ,the the time to be the clock that kept me ticking I
allowed you to be the Great in my Britain
I grated my grit in to your sense of who I should be
I was trying to be fly in your hangar but wearing out, erasing me
Crucifying, hanging on a tree, on the word of a little bird
I’d say that’s absurd but I’m too busy working my abdominals, wretching being sick of your bull shit words
Yes I’ve got my wobble wobble like a chicken gobble gobbles
I’m trying to find myself while I’m living by sods law
A sense of me and God’s law
For all my reality I’m not sure I really know me or God any more
So my head drops to the floor with a headless reflection of a winner
So used to rolling with the punches I forgot intoxicate my inner
So I flow red rum and murder a page
Stepped to bat with my Gat unloaded my tongue to say
I AM
I WILL
I LIVE
I CAN
I HAVE
I GIVE
Sublime erections to divine electives, verbs get over sexed
my simple position seems to be a reflex moment of complexity
Yet if, life is full of puddles and oceans subtle boundaries and modals
Even the most open minded of eclectics need to have core devotions
Lotions potions and pearls
So I can stop blaming you and hold me down for my own world

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Filed under Just Living