POETRY

Poems which I have written myself. Some may seem very obscure – it’s poetry. I consider poetry to be one of the highest and most artistic forms of writing.

Gym

Few will gym for health…
for, if doing it for health,
one wouldn’t do drugs like they do.
But yes, some do it for health and love.
And your muscles are real;
not protein puffs.
Your strength is not only in your arms;
it is in your heart as well.
It’s always more rewarding to work;
not to just get like a brat.
And guess what?
Hard work breeds humility;
steroids only bring rage
(and infertility).

Slicin’ n Shadin’

Throw that shade!
Cast a shadow!
We’re obviously worth it;
Because our light obviously hurts you.
We’ll keep on shining;
You keep shading.

Slicin’ n shadin’ ain’t gonna get you anywhere!
So instead find a passion;
Find something to put that energy into…
Ask me – I know,
I’ve been there before…
I’ve been the one doing the hurt,
Making people cry,
Making hearts bleed,
Letting my darkness dim shine.
I changed. So can you.

Light creates more energy;
Darkness only kills it.

SURVIVOR

This poem is dedicated to everyone who has lost their lives to cancer as well as to those who are currently in remission. One day cancer will be human history.

YOU MAY KILL
BUT ONE DAY YOU’LL DIE
YOU’LL BE PART OF HUMAN HISTORY
PEOPLE WILL LOOK BACK
AND SEE YOUR DESTRUCTION
BUT KNOW YOU’RE DEADER THAN DEATH
THEY’LL BE THANKFUL TO
THE SCIENTISTS WHO HAD THE PASSION
TO BEAT YOU INTO NON-EXISTENCE.
BUT FOR NOW YOU MUST MUTATE IN FEAR
KNOWING YOUR EXPIRATION IS NEAR!

Helm

Elected into the office:
chosen by the people.
Not by chance – by destiny.
The Third.
And the final to wear the WHITE.
Everyone looked up to him,
for he stood on a stage and gave his thanks.

And still they looked up – physically – each morning.
Some doubted, as is expected.
Commanding the respect from a crowd –
it is not easy, but he could.
He had it.
He spoke to be heard; people listened.
Dealing with the troubles;
holding himself high – always.
An unfaltering role model to all.

By the end of the term of service
everyone still looked up to him;
but this time not just physically.

Swing!

Thank you for being kind –
It’s very rare to find.
You don’t know me,
But you’re what I want to be.
You have something unique…
I’ve had a little peak.
You’ll go far –
You’ll be more than a star.
Whack the ball out of the park!
Slap down your struggles, your stark.
Swing at that small ball,
Do it and you’ll stand tall!
For doing something with conviction
Will provide your heart no friction.

Tea Parties

This little girl has a story:
She grew up in a dark world,
But was surrounded by pinks
And soft pastel colours,
Barbie dolls and tea cup sets,
Clothes for princesses,
A tiara to top it off.
It was the perfect facade…
Pink reminded her of blood –
And pastel was the colour of happiness she hated…
Barbies were her mother,
And tea cups symbols of oppression.
Princess clothing – a mocking gesture to the world,
And a tiara – the final broken halo of goodness.

She cast her spells
(curses – that sort of thing)
And sprinkled her glitter.
(cyanide – looked like weird snow!)
She baked everyone cookies
(filled with rat poison)
and even gave her neighbours gifts!
(bombs – strong enough to damage, but not kill)

She was the sweetest girl,
She was happy too!
Can we blame her then
For living happily?