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.

A Shot

grab the liquor!
poor it out;
let me taste the poison
let it run through me!
it heats me up inside
the fuel to my fire.
I cannot stop…
give me more…
yes
numbness
I feel alive when I feel dead
give me more!
pour it out!
here! put it in here!
it’s so blurred
things are so clear!
I think I love you
another shot
tequila!
YES
feel it slip down
it burns
I feel the demons escape
the noises are silenced.

I cannot feel
but I feel everything
the truth slips out like
the shots slip down.
burning me up.

leave me alone!
let me cry!
I need more…
I need more…
I don’t want to wake up…

POUR IT INTO MY HANDS
I NEED A DRINK

senses

your overwhelming senses
radiate past my eyes
feel through my body
caress my ears
make me taste sweetness
inhale your scents
as you cruise down
down to the life
let the wind rush
as the sun smiles
and the air twirls
touching your tasty
slice through hearts
bursting desires

are you a sin
or are we sinners
for staring

Since the beginning

I’ve seen the way you look
look at me…
Through the corners of my eyes.
You have nice eyes.
I like your hair too…
You’re really smart,
Maybe this is the start
of something greater…

If you feel the same way –
We could be?
Us.
Me + You.

The missing piece to my life –
Well, not missing, just found.
Found at a time so unexpected.
We could grow old
Together!
Share the stories – you and I!
Us.

Maybe?
Someday?

I’ll wait.
I’m patient you know.
I’ll wait forever…
And more.

A 21st Century Truth

Isn’t it weird how she sits?
So quietly with a book.
She doesn’t say much, doctor.
Could you please make her okay?

Madam, I’m afraid I cannot help.
She has a severe case of being unique.
It’s rare, but fatal.
It will cause her to suffer…
People will criticise her and mock her.
She’ll have few friends, if not none.

Oh no! My poor girl…
There must be something,
Something you can do!
She’s my only.

I understand, all I can do is kill her passion.
Back in the day it worked.
They used to make people work,
Doing jobs they hated…
They were paid terribly,
Taxed heavily too.
The poor got poorer;
The rich got richer.

Please! Kill her passion!

All it takes is a day,
A day in the life of a 21st Century Adult…

The Photographer’s Portrait

He snapped away at beautiful things –
He was one of the best;
Able to capture momentary bliss.
His life in stills would be momentous;
Memories and moments of making smiles.
It’s easy to capture the outside;
It’s a gift to capture the inside.
But he did it – every time,
Maybe it was in his finger…

But as he snapped he got older,
Until one day his arthritis finger hurt to push.
That’s the day he had his portrait painted.
I painted it.
You should have seen his smile;
It radiated.
It made me smile.

That’s rare.

Now it hangs above his rocking chair
Next to the fire place.
His smile is eternal now:
To match his photographs.

Young Poet

Young poet with the blonde hair!
She had this interesting affair…
He got really angry at her ways,
she didn’t care – so she says.

She cheated on him with her art
because her art would never cheat her.
It gave her more joy to hold a brush of thought
and a palette filled with colourful thoughts,
unlike his monochromatic personality.
She can paint her fantasy with words
and not be abused by him.

Young poet with the blonde hair!
Everyone walks past just to stare…
She’s so happy now with her life,
it’s all gone now: the hate, the strife!