Tag Archives: poetry

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Some days, the world closes in around me.

For minutes at a time, the earth shakes as though a thousand dormant volcanoes have erupted in unison.

I chase after my breaths like a 5-year-old with bubbles on a breezy afternoon.

I am deaf to the beat of my heart.

The sun orbits the earth before I come around to the understanding of my plight.

I am at war with my shadow.

Afraid of fading from view, I like stringing sentences like tennis rackets.

Mantras slip through my fingers like perfect ex’s.

Questioning supposed recklessness I break fast.

Peace is a stranger that refuses to converse.

I silence the alarm despite being raised by a nurse.

Always an episode instead of a series.

The script seems more powerful every time.

Maybe this is what I deserve.

Payback for the other side of me.

Maybe it’s the design for me

Anxiety.

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Filed under Just Living, Random Poetics

7 A.M.

20170401_192908About to be the 3, 5, I’m laid up with teenage fever.

Feeling like Janet Jackson without the safety of a pre-nup

Our roads, different, we ran on petrol and diesel

Our roads different, supposedly Adidas and Asics,

Drumming our bases, we found laces/ electrifying connections like both worlds were tasered

Face to face we were a fumbling fortress of ferocious fondness

Maybe I’d been chasing Amy or maybe Gin met Tonic

See London at 1.30 birthed 7am in Germany

Had to check mate like we were head to toe in Burberry.

The bucket list met a vision causing intercontinental collision

Audibly adrenaline was all the way up, like it was a day of ascension.

There were starry eyed smiles brighter than Borealis,

The aura of sharp shooters turned battlefields to gardens

How do you spend time with someone and feel like you’ve left with a bargain?

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Frankfurt 3: Pardon your Ignorance

 

I’d visited Frankfurt to meet up with a poet I have only known through social media, yet has been like a brother for several years.  This was the 3rd and final poem from my writing session.

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Eyes of giants are wandering.

Aviators reflecting on the ground.

Beauty seems skin tight,

Fashionistas mix colours yet can’t do it with skin type

Flowing locks and optics box tick.

I just can’t with the lens being pedalled.

A fresh breeze invades the mood.

To settle the stomach, I engage with windbreakers and stone masons.

I was a fool for lane love ignoring the  map.

The cupboard love from Venus is the most fly of traps.

It’s time to switch the raps, worship and praise at new altars.

Maybe you will…..for the sake of our true calling.

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Filed under Random Poetics

Frankfurt 2: Hey Jude, Judas

The photo below was taken in Hauptwache, Frankfurt, click here if you’d like to see a few more from my trip. Or scroll down and read on

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I know nothing of falling in love.

That tripping up, or a bit of a jigsaw.

Maniacally exclaiming life reshaping.

I stumbled over desperation until my chest demanded rest for its people.

Now salty for a taste of freedom

I grieve with ten thousand reasons for why we’re here.

What’s real talk to convenience?

Stores of obedience host underground shows.

Soon there’ll be no difference between breathing and blows.

Avalanches will flow.

Demons with god intentions only ever change lanes

Truth is loyal and destructive, it devastates and remains.

Where the sun sets the moon gains.

We all want the light without pain

We all want to know the 4-2-5 yet Judas gets in the way.

What are you a discipline of?

What’s your price today?

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Frankfurt 1: Reflecting

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Take a panorama of paradise

Divide it into 36 perfect 10ths

Is every pixel filled with the same shade?

Are black spots dangerous?

Would you break up if you found one?

What’s your flavour of danger and damnation?

Are heaven and hell real? Do cycles turn a corner?

Are you a moving star?

Are you right stationary?

Gallant souls and wisdom court before the marriage.

Is defeat an ex in waiting?

Can we feel your nakedness through your layers?

Does your drive need to pull over?

You’ve been playing musical chairs with your best moves.

What will it take for you to stand up?

Scrape the barrel or the sky, the deep and wide or the high.

There’s a choice to be made. Black like lemonade, or lack to the fade.

Who will you be?

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Filed under Random Poetics

Boy in the corner

Trade your suit and glasses for sackcloth and ashes

Remain pure to your past self, unmasked and passive

Stay sophomoric and tragic, take slap shots, and don’t panic!

Affray? We’ll wreak havoc, you’ll be a mascot for the moribund

Stay savvy, trade your muses and nuance for fame and famine

Pyramid schemes for your dreams, is it fair?, oh you’ll manage

Imagine what we fashion when we see through your glasses.

Tape your education through conversation then charge you for classes

We’ll rape your souls in the marriage bed and claim it never happened.

So what will it be, your roots or our fruits?

The trenches or the barracks?

Do you believe anything will stick if we hold the field of carrots?

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The End

I’m in love with….I could never finish the sentence
My regrets roused rancorous desires for regression
I was colour blind as the red flags flapped,
I felt so fly, the fact that I didn’t, feels impressive.
My ego was bedded by this boo as the crowd roared us on.
Economical with the truth about either of us being The One
We phoned in that blue light to the brain as though we were seeing
the sun.
The great depression was 3 rings away from speaking up.
Green was never my shade, yet blue was our colour.
We called a spade a spade while digging crates and graves for each other
To tolerate through desperation seemed a better vow than to love each other.
Desecrating the legacies of Father, Father and Mother.
Who we fancied remained a secret that not even mirrors could fathom.
If we get on, let’s see where it goes was the best chestnut, adage
We thought we had our onions in order so we ignored the sage.
This was a fools buffet, eat now and pay later
Needed more time to date but….
We were less diligent than a fan of James Yancey
Pilot of Aaliyah’s plane on an incredible flight of fancy
If you do best at a certain altitude, why lower the standards?
If our mutual anchor had matched us, the candle position was shifting.
If walking through hell was our job, we seemed fire resistant.
We did what was expected and found some return on the investment.
Blurring the burning yearning for affection with friendship.
The words house and mate were, for the most part, unconnected.
 The moment we took the breath away, I became we, with love in a sentence.
Now if this is a confession to someone who cannot give penance.
What are we to do with the fragments of our reflections?
We end.

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