Down, Down


A series of misguided emotions
Bubble to the surface of the cauldron
That is my flaming heart
And once again I slam them back down

Those emotional manifestations
I’m told are unworthy
And shouldn’t be felt
For the best of all involved

But perhaps my heart
Hasn’t gotten the message
Hasn’t realised its folly
In feeling such love

Love for all it sees
Love for every soul it meets
Love so intense
That no stamping down can hide it long

Smoosh the feelings
Down down
Deep in their hole
Where they cannot escape

Keep them deep down
So folks won’t see
The unacceptable feelings
That are filling me


Make Them Hear Your Voice


A deep and existential dread
Forming around and holding tight
Rejected once more by those that hold no sway
Those that didn’t matter until they said
That you weren’t up to their standards
That you somehow fell short
Their opinions didn’t faze you
Until they were directed your way
So why the sudden change
Why the sudden regret
At something lost when never sought
Missing when never wanted to begin with
If all souls are fragments of the same
Great and powerful being
Perhaps it matters when one fragment
Suggests another is lacking
In a world of free loving
A world of fanciful joy
Why would you wallow
Why would you fear
It’s all just suggestion
Not a devil at your ear
Essentially I’m saying
What’s done is done for good
So why bother wasting energy
On words from lumps of wood
When you are the one in charge
The one who knows the path
Who can see the journey stretched before them
Can see the aftermath
Of every single decision
Of every little choice
But only if you clear your mind
And make them hear your voice

Poetry’s Mettle


Sometimes the words don’t flow
As finely as I’d like
They stick in my brain
And the string of repetitious,
Rambunctious ramblings
Somehow seems silly
Somewhat strange and unwieldy
Understandably undesirable
Undeniably utilitarian
And completely devoid
Of magic
And mystery
And majesty
And mayhem
Instead intent in insipidness
Inherently idiotic ideas
Frequently flow freely
Foul figments of imagination
Testing resolve at every turn
And tested the mettle
Begins to weaken
Begins to warp and crack
And in the cracking becomes
Something different
Something wholly new
Something almost beautiful
Almost palatable
Almost real

Words Have Power


FREAK-uently I wonder

           Is this the way

That the             beginning began
           Or perhaps the big bang

Never happened any more
Than the        big band
Phase   and   perhaps the worst

Part is I don’t know what’s real and what’s truth and what’s the meaning of all this emotion

And in part    I suppose
All that I    know is
That all of this   prose
And Poe-et-tree
Is screaming and shouting
Into the wind
How could you hear me above
All this noise
And pollution

Reckless abandon
Looking back is for wimps
Looking forward is for chumps
There is only the moment
Besides this surely isn’t how poetry is done, it cannot be, perhaps there’s been some mistake

Back to the moment
It’s an important notion
To comprehend
You need to take the leap
Roll with the punches
And when you’re old and grey and wrinkled adn perhaps even dying
And you cannot stand
Your neighbours any longer
Because your back

And pains
And word associations
Remember if only to organise your thoughts because poor planning builds a scramble of words

Utterly Incomprehensible

If words have power
This message trumps all others
Frankly I’m bored

Where is that nice socialism

I’m on board

Back in the days of Romans
When Art was a thing
I guess that wasn’t needed
But then, nor was a King
Heed this poem wisely, or throw it the fuck away, I don’t give a damn; Poetry’s fucking dumb


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