“At the age of fourteen I discovered writing as an escape from a world of reality in which I felt acutely uncomfortable.” – Tennessee Williams
You lack the depth
of reality…
Come on, man!
Stop abusing, stop escaping!
Face it head on:
flood light that truth,
fly towards it, bug!
Stop injecting with that stuff,
it’s poison for your veins.
Surely you know that?
I’m third tier looking down,
I’ve been through it all.
Don’t you learn, buddy?
Suck up and deal,
sniff a line of life: it’s free!
It won’t kill you,
fool!
Write out those feelings,
we need you here.
Don’t leave the truth unturned,
disturb the insects,
show them the light!
It’s for their enlightenment.
arrogance
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.
La Vérité
Infected by corrupted corrosion
of peer-piercing pretense
and diseased desires to impress:
A romanticised, illustrious image.
Once bold and definite,
definite like a David.
Smashed.
The transformation of age –
Poisoned passion:
La vérité.
Mr Individualist 