Poetry

Inked

You might think I’m weird:
Maybe I’m too strong for you?
Does my opinion get you boiled?
Am I too bold?
Is my shine too bright?

I don’t walk the usual path;
I don’t wear your social norms;
I don’t believe in your higher powers…

Why does my tattooed chest
Bother you so much?
Is it because you long to be brave?
Long to be yourself?
Long to ink your life?
Or is ink too permanent for your lifestyle?
Will you be out of fashion next spring?
Will they no longer ‘love’ you?
Did conviction go out of fashion?
Is individuality no longer
On the menu at your gourmet restaurant?

I’d apologise for educating myself
On others subjects other than
Celebrity gossip and trashy ways
but then I’d be substanceless.
I’d rather live on the outside
Dancing to Nature’s song
Than inside craving likes like drugs.

Little hidden boy

Little hidden boy;
Dark voice inside.
Look deeper
And beyond the eyes
Until you feel
The body
Locked away
Behind forbidden skies.

Little hidden boy,
Screaming for a ride.
Please help him out –
He’s never been outside.

Little hidden boy,
gnawing for a chance.
Give him hope –
One day he’ll share
A dance.

Little hidden boy,
Not so small anymore.
Many years in dark
Manifest monsters
After all.

Life’s a Ride

Pick out the bike,
Pump up the tires,
Polish the spokes.

The road will wind,
The terrain will change,
The weather will beat down.

There will be ditches,
But also smooth roads,
And vast fields of green.

Fall – then get up!
Brush off the dust,
And peddle on.

Ramp what you want to,
But if you fall – know it was you,
Just never give up!

The climb up a hill might be steep,
But just carry on –
It’s okay to walk at times…

Enjoy the ride!
Let the wind touch you –
Know people are on your side.

And when the time comes to stop
Make sure you can say:
I rode the road the way I wanted.

Disney Days

Escapism confectionery
Fantastical illusionary
Delusionary imaginary
Scented sweet flowers
Painted perfection fields
And horizons filled with
Happily-ever-afters
Sugar-coated honeycomb
picture-perfect-endings.
Crescendo!
Black screen
Rolling thunderous credits
Back into hazardous harsh
Brutal bashing banging
Brain-damaging
Wrecked world.

The act of growing up?

She just wants to be touched,
have someone reach out and grab her…
Make her feel like she’s worth the pain…
Let her know she can make someone
feel that way.
She puts herself out there;
she knows one thing:
she isn’t ready.
But everyone else is doing it!
Maybe this is what it means to grow up…
She doesn’t know but she will,
she will because she’ll be hurt:
and she will be scarred;
and she will be damaged;
and she will be broken;
But that’s the only way
someone like her will learn.

Forgotten

The boy that is picked last for
the team is pitied;
but what about the boy that
isn’t picked but rather chosen by default?

The guy who tries but fails
is look upon and helped along…
The guy that tries and fails
and tries and fails and tries and fails
and tries isn’t even noticed.

The girl who gets her first kiss
with the help of a friend is glorified.
The girl who never even talks
to boys is never seen.

The man that tried to kill himself
is loved more for attempting to do so;
yet the poor man who succeeded
had only his aunt at his funeral.