#ProjectInspiredPoetry

Poems based around or inspired by all of my Facebook friends. Before 31 December 2013, there will be a poem for every Facebook friend of mine.

There

We build each other up to
help each other when we fall.

Always there for each other
like a shadow to a tree.
Mutual respect and honesty
that radiates from the deepest
and most meaningful place:
Unexplained.
So powerful.
Both at the top of the world,
yet both wanting the
other to touch stars.
Standing united rather than
apart.

We build each other up to
help each other when we fall.

People will try pull us
down
down
down
to get themselves up,
but we want to help them up
the Truthful way.
Friends will become strangers and
acquaintance friends;
that’s the cycle:
cyclically natural.

We build each other up to
help each other when we fall.

Any position of the extreme
(highness or lowness)
will always be subject to the
scrutiny of common man!
Common man merely watches
and speculates at the validity,
but who needs the validity
of the exterior when you
have heart of Truth.

We build each other up to
make each other great.

The Unrequited Struggle

In every room there stands a different couple:
They show affection and their love seems to double.
We won’t ever feel that, my friend, we won’t ever feel that.

Society screams in my ear saying,
“You’re such a failure so stop playing”:
But we were always excluded, my friend, we were always excluded.

Arrived at a party, someone beautiful offered me a drink;
Told me I was nice, like a brother, made them think.
This is where we belong, my friend, this is where we belong.

Went out on a Friday night to a popular bar,
Everyone was in the arms of another star.
I felt the loneliness, my friend, I felt the loneliness.

Saw a married couple walking down the street;
Their love was as strong and unbreakable as a fleet.
Oh if we could only imagine, my friend, if we could only imagine.

Thought I heard someone call my name softly in the dark –
Turns out that it was just the beating of my lonely heart’s stark
My soul is eternally alone, my friend, my soul is eternally alone.

Dreamed that I saw my hand intertwined with someone new,
It seemed so real, something so rare, so few.
I awoke to my nightmare, my friend, I awoke to my nightmare.

Had a vision of my final hour of life;
It seemed I had with a love conquered all strife.
I am just delusional, my friend, I am just delusion.

Fall!

Take your screeching strings
and make the music you like.
Let the masses dance to noise,
let the people believe.

Take your criticism and write it across the sky.
Let the world know your opinion
is the fact.
Let them know!

Take your eyes and your assumptions
and sew them into the fabric of the world.
Preach the truth-lies and broken lives
and let that sell your soul.

While you’re at the butcher slicing my life,
make sure to buy yourself some tough meat
because you’ll need to be toughened up
when the demons get to lick your skin.

During the plotting of my downfall
make sure to charge your video cameras
and have back up batteries, because you know what?
My fall is far.

Catch me from the right angle
and direct my fall into your hands.
Immortalise my failure;
let me feel your strangle.

Write my downfall!
Record my blood!
Snap-shot my failure!
Headline my stumble!

Take my life, I give it to you.
But know this, for it is true:

You will never touch my soul.

The Drowning

In a flood of compliments he drowns;
all humility is forced out of his being.
The pride floods in
consuming his soul like a black sludge.
He begins to sink slowly
into the darkest depth of confusion
as he loses sight of the light; of himself.

His existence begins to fold in –
he sees images; hallucinations of
his success and nightmarish
rusted merry-go-rounds
of mutated friendships…
He left with none.
His corpse hits the coarse sand
of his truth; his reality.

They search for him…
They search for him…
They search for him
among their words
and find him dead at the
bottom of their compliments.

Even then it continues:
“He was destined for greatness!”
And a black tear rolls slowly…
Still no realisation.

He lives a different life now,
one of his own creation;
one where compliments are few,
as is self-worth.

Sonnet of Thankfulness

She has the special gift of love inside,
giving freely of herself to her blood.
She places her faith with them, to abide.
Her care – simply stated – one great, strong flood.
Those who step into her life will be graced
with her boundless care and compassionate
temperament. She has felt struggle, yet faced
them head on; her morals fast, abstinent.
She offered her hand when I was hit down.
I took it, with thanks in my eyes and heart.
They laugh with hate; in them I used to drown.
But she knew it was special, this, the start.
Her spirit will survive the harsh beatings.
One day, from heaven, she will send greetings.

Unbrick

Unbrick the wall!
Open the door!
Invite them inside,
Deny another war!

Dry up the tears!
And prepare the table!
Welcome new beginnings,
Forever now stable!

Throw away the key!
Open windows wide!
Smile with a reason,
Show our good side!

Unbrick the wall!
Tear down all hate!
Demand true freedoms,
Welcome City of Fate!

M. Jane

She strides into the
greenhouse: confident; calm.
She walks right up to
me and smiles.
I smile back.
I think I love her.
We leave, hand in hand;
my lips will meet hers
and I will suck the
marrow out of life;
delusional beauty.

She makes me happy.
And happiness is what
we all need.
She makes me feel
new, refreshed
and free of my pain.
She rests my mind
and calms
the world’s madness.

She never stays
too long though.
She always leaves.
And I find myself
running after her.

Running to
her highness.

Logarithm

Sitting in a hall of
concreted pain and
precise calculations,
the existence melts
and the clouds of
thought darken…
darken even more.

First the flash
then the ominous rumble
of the emptiness.

It echoes inside the
walls which are hollow,
hollow like the mind
in which the echo
wanders aimlessly.

A simple logarithm
of care:

Minute,
Miniscule,
Negligible.

Different

I. Genesis

Under the microscope;
probed and prodded.
Considered abnormal –
in need of changing –
because in this world
if you’re not ‘normal’
you need fixing.
Put through the various tests
and told not to be
good enough for
Society’s expectations.
Finally diagnosed,
as if a disease:
flesh treated as a virus.

II. Passion

Suffering at the merciless
hands of a pack of wild
collective consciousness;
targeted like a hurt lamb.
Ripped emotionally
and taunted like a
helpless puppy.
Each new sunset filled
not with hope and
new beginnings, but
with the start of renewed
enthusiasm on the part of
the oppressors.
They do not even know
what destruction
they plant in this field…
They do not even know….

III. Revelation

Discovery that all
the scrapes and
emotional scars were
all part of the plan
to make
stronger; braver.
Finally understanding that
potential is unlocked once
darkness has been faced
and struggle has been tasted.
After listening
for so many years to
the metallic screams and taunts
of a system wanting different
to fit its mould,
it is revealed that it
can all be overcome.

IV. Exodus

Surviving the mountainous
hurt and strife;
clawing and gnawing
through swine to get
to a place of self-understanding.
Finally free from
the hurt, the pain, the suffering.
Ready to flee from
the pool of torment
leaving everything,
and everyone,
behind.

Insecurity Security

She stumbles along the corridors
of her life and is slightly ashamed.
She hides, sticks to the walls;
head down, eyes lowered.
Her stride mimics her esteem:
insecure; weak; damaged.

Living in a world where
hate is celebrated
and love is seen as weak.
She is confused, insecure.
Her tears comfort her;
the pain reassures
she is alive.
In absence of tears
she feels dead:
they make her feel like that.

She avoids mirrors;
dodges photos.
Sits at the back, mute,
no attention is good attention,
she says to her teddy bear friend.

But she always believed.

She found an equal.
Her dead spirit was raised
from the grave of
corridors and classrooms.
Her tears dried up;
the clouds began to fade.
She never knew
the sun was so bright and hot.

She was saved.
Saved by self-discovery
of inner beauty
magazines dare not talk of:
saved by her
Insecurity Security.