Hi, hey, you
Real person, heart filled
With beats: believable.
You, you, you
Is special; believe me
As the robots link and like,
Like droids left
To their own devices:
Lacking artificial intelligence
To really care about writing,
Unlike you.
Hey you, long-term acquaintance,
Never doubt I weed you out
From the droning
Of the clicking robotic moaning;
I see
I care
I a-pre-ci-ate
You
Staying close
Poetry Drafts
I have a thing with partings:
Finding therein a something akin
To a death desperately present;
Like an earthquake easily burying
The life I had before, a life
Lost and never returning;
Memories fading
As the self slowly shatters,
Memories within
Unshared and unequivocally
Pointing towards an end;
As the thread of hope
Weaved from the strings
Of dreams, from the last
Rays of sunshine mirrored
In the eyes of the child
Left behind.
I have a thing with partings,
Being left behind,
The others going on
As the self withers -/:
Death wears high heels
Death wears leather thongs
Death wears my heads
Crushed under the dream
Of innocence becoming
More
Than
Wanting
More
Than
Needing
More
Than
Longing
For the finality of a life
Of dread, of deeds done
In the name of doing,
Of the making of a life
In search of multiple endings
For the sake of dreaming
And betterment of men,
Before the Lady in waiting –
Wearing high heels of death
Every tutorial leaves me with a sour aftertaste, a question of why, and then regret, for attending; pretending to be something I’m not, and then the tutor’s praise in a language I do not comprehend, yet the marks gives me hope, to go on, to progress, to accept I am indeed learning; learning that learning is hard, not like work where I got paid to play, to learn that which was already known; this is new, this is different, yet similar to creating, exploring a world where finding the meaning from a single word might be the reason for being; a distinction – or a plain failure.
A Nobel Reception
A reception worthy of a tale my Lords
A tale I say: forget this not but pass along.
As we set sail on a journey most perilous
Towards the naked north in a solid ship
Of your own kind sponsorship;
Across the borderless sea
Rough and ready,
We took aim for their archipelago
The native tribes of troubles
And their inevitable demise.
The journey lasted but a five full moons
And we found us on the longest day
Slowly approaching a ragged land
Of cliffs and cliffs stretching heavenly.
Movement of bodies was spotted soon
Atop the trees of the native spruce variety.
As far as friendly receptions go
We received the most nobel of greetings:
As far as eyes could see
Scattered skulls and seared skin
Was all that remained
Of us and your once solid ship.
My Lords, my Lords? To what purpose
Is your silent response helping my cause?
My Lords? Is my appearance not evidence
Of this most worthy of telling. Am I too you
Not entirely visible.
A two-act play
You analysed me
Like an English literature text.
To find the cause and effects
Of your sinister two-act play;
The maiden in distress
Turned weary wicked witch;
Your wanton ways with
Nothing to display. I did fall
But not for that thin veil
Of insecurity; no I fell
For the lovely lass that turned
down a one-way street.
