Our Crowning Glory
There’s no knowing where we’re going
Should I leave, I would surely drown.
So, then, my choice has been made for me.
I will close my eyes.
1-Ply Toilet Paper
a banshee of a karen,
a fortnight late,
and so many lost fates.
"Together we can do this."
A rallying cry,
the flags did fly.
The music played sweet,
the vibrato of concrete.
Sights we should have never seen.
A world so still and then so clean.
And then what goes and happens next?
The same, but slightly more complex.
And on and on and then so soon,
we're facing almost certain doom.
Regression now a common goal,
recession now inevitable.
The good days have come and gone.
The knife's edge we balance on
is as thin as a piece of 1-ply toilet paper.
Hope and spirit turned to vapor.
In practical terms, this practically means
that for practical reasons we're all behind screens
and we're pulling them further and further apart.
This might be the end, but I fear it’s the start.
"Together we can do this."
Universe, Universe
There's too many options, I can't see my way through.
Universe, Universe, teach me what to think.
My mind is black as ice, and deeper still I sink.
Universe, Universe, show me what is real.
I cannot trust what I see and hear and feel.
Universe, Universe, fill my empty heart,
and present me someone from whom I'd never wish to part.
Universe, Universe, make me just and right.
Let me do what's best for you so we can sleep at night.
Universe, Universe, teach me how to be.
Simple things come slower still, the stranger that is me.
Masquerade
I do not know what's left to say.
There are no words left that haven't been said.
Sooner than later we'll both be dead.
Though worry not, and trouble naught,
for I feel much like a cosmonaut.
You landed on the moon and waved
as I tripped off of the path you paved.
You're primed and ready to attack,
and then there's me who won't fight back.
My advice has always been precise,
so why, for me, does it not suffice?
All the words I've spoken, and still not enough.
Every last one felt like a teddy bear's fluff,
but it tastes so good; it feeds an addiction,
though I choke when I speak in this childish diction.
I want to sleep
and I want to dream about
superheroes and villains,
about the past twenty years,
or about someone who never existed.
I want to sleep,
and to stay in my dreamland
detached from the evils
of Brexit, and bollocks,
and likes and dislikes,
and eight hour days,
and ignorance.
And I want to sleep
safe in the warmth of love and cushions
and not on the bed of nails and spikes
I wish I could rid myself of.
But the nightmares start when I wake up.
I want to scream and
I want to shout,
but he has taken my voice.
I cannot even cry.
But I want to sleep
in a bed where I don't need to dream
once I've awoken.
I want to sleep in a bed
where the day is the day
and my eyes are less red,
and no voice need awaken me.
I want to sleep in peace.
Phoenix Falling
Its light now dimmed, its life force drained.
It died in pain.
Will it rise again?
The Grand Disillusion
The chain of action from sweatshop to Primark
amalgamates all contemporary discourse.
And no one wins.
The desire to live in peace is the one thing that I thought we shared.
From peace manifests boredom, from boredom, anger, and from anger, chaos.
At least now it's documented.
At least now we can make comprehensive lists of the atrocities we perpetrate.
At least now we should be able to seek decisive justice.
But the landlord put the rent up again.
I could leave, but a thousand men would jump in my grave
because they, too, have nothing left.
Is it selfish to want my grave to myself?
The game was rigged right from the start.
Nothing else empties my heart like bullying the homeless.
They're there because you're not.
Your life is not your own
Photo Credit: Robert Anders (Flickr)
not a care, nor a curl,
with a pure, loving heart.
They promise and vow,
and before you they'll bow
to their neverending victory.
Your life is not your own.
They promise, you wish,
like Judas' kiss,
you're wrapped in His embrace.
Once the sun sets,
you start taking bets
on if it'll rise again.
Your life is not your own.
If you take the punt
to exit stage front,
you must answer for their tears.
Your life is not your own.
Flames
but I do know how it ends.
So many dreams have turned to dust,
and I can’t embrace my friends.
The foundations of society
weren’t built to support this weight,
abetted by the chilling winds
in this climate of hate.
So I retreated to the castle,
wherein surprise lay for me.
I sat upon my throne of frost
and found a cup of tea.
The tea, it tasted sweet,
and almost aromatic.
The heat at which it burnt my lips
might be autotraumatic.
The brew dripped down my throat
with fury, fire and flame.
Set my heart ablaze
and it won't repair the same.
Permafrost melting,
signals haywire.
The forests are gone,
existence is dire.
The world's on fucking fire
and I don't know what to do.
Close my eyes and hold my breath
to keep The Vision true.
The world's on fucking fire,
and we haven't got a clue.
Who is here to save it
if it isn't you?
Embers
You stand on the precipice of oblivion.
The foundations, dreamt eternal, crumble now.
Even if the physics let you scream, who would hear?
Breathe.
Close your eyes and count backwards from twenty.
The field is greener but the grass still tastes like dirt.
If you spit it out, they'll call you ungrateful.
Live in dreams and fantasies. They want you to stay.
Hold me tight and say goodnight, please, girl inside my head.
Whisper me sweet lullabies, soothe my wailing torment.
Breathe
in the embers of the world on fire.
The flames char your feet, your legs, your chest and turn you into stone.
Godhood would suit you ill, and yet no one left can stop you.
Allow the smoke to fill your mind in an everlasting haze.
Invulnerable, you tumble through the echoes left of life.
Something's wrong, there's something left, that single nagging thread.
Breathe.
What if this is not the end, but a simple act break?
Inhale: Unknown - Panic, shock and fear.
Only on the exhale does my head clear.