Cycle of Tears

I painted still life with water colour
When I was a little boy
I sought approval from mother for colours
When I had no little toys

Sight kindly gave as I grew older
My age waned as I was less sober
What tiny lies we say to smile
That the moon is cheesy and life’s a few hundred miles

My heart has grown weary from lack
But I don’t care enough to bring it back
I stabbed many sides of many friends
My luck failed every morning to meet my end

I’m tired of trying and failing at every instance
Even ending it all faces resistance
Like I look in the mirror and he tells me to stay
But what good can I lend when I’ve always stalked prey

Put me out to pasture please end my existence
I could pay you even to start the proceedings
I’m guilty of all my wrong can you hear me now
Ghosts still don’t care that I’m a criminal

What great invention did I originate before my age of disappointment
What great plans did I appreciate before my solitary confinement
Was wasted potential put my energy to waste
Was tired individual did nothing with haste

Fumes

I heard from folks who have lives and they seem to be interested and involved in a lot of things. I have not been fortunate enough to seek a life for myself while I’ve been engaged in conversations with these folks because it was always a distracting note on which discussions hinged.
I tried to get myself interested in normal things. I already liked comic book media and sci-fi but had no affinity for broader ranged activities. This bothered me immensely and so I decided to start smoking regularly at a scheduled time. The idea was that if I could institute some regimen in my routine, I would become an interesting person. This did not turn out to be the case eventually but I digress. I bought a pack of cigarettes from my local Sainsbury store which was about six pounds. I bought a lighter as well to complete the package. It was then that I walked to my university in the cold of the early year to smoke on the roof. I wasn’t sure where that was so I decided to forgo that and smoke in front of the building.
It must have been a sight too, a slightly overweight eighteen year old shivering while trying to smoke like logan. I then trashed the butt and headed home, with the happiness of addicting yourself to something that will kill you.
While on the subject I recall my first encounter with smoking. I went to clubs when I was younger with the rules of my parents ‘don’t smoke or drink’ which I stuck too. Until I saw one of my friends attract a female with his puff and smoke wiles. I thought to myself that was a key to ladies, look cool smoking and they’ll be all over you or one will pretend that you exist. So I on one boring night bought a packet to smoke, I smoked nine of the cigarettes in one night. It was a steep learning curve for me, I’d seen others smoke so I emulated their method. When I inhaled that horrid smoke in my lungs and expelled it, I did not cough or wince but blew through like a professional. It was a proud moment in my short uneventful life but it was worth it.

Now I smoke like two packets a year and call myself an occasional smoker. Occasional less like every two months and more like only at events.

Hinged beliefs

I ticked my ballot paper
Put it in with others
Took it all in as I left the building
My hope I’d picked a side

Filled in multiple choices for a sitting exam
Went over again so I wasn’t wrong
Hope the answers didn’t bring me harm
Here’s what I wished for

I entered my name for the lottery
With astronomical odds and no hope
Just took a chance on myself
Like I rubbed a magic lamp

We sat in the pews one early Sunday
Got knee down to pray
Asked God for many and for little
A request was placed

Hopefully men hope fully
And dream quietly and boast triumphant
When success comes it will be because of acts
And not passive thoughts

It will be because of strife
And not tear filled eyes
It will be because of deeds
And not hinged beliefs

Strife

I’m a witness to my crime of living
And I’m the only one expressing misgivings
Like others are more concerned with when I kill me
Than they are if I die in proximity

I admit I’m guilty of not trying enough
Tried to be caught for not lying its rough
Couldn’t look her in the face to say I don’t care
That’s at least a half lie if we’re being fair

I got bloated like I consumed only helium
Got wasted like a king based in a colisseum
I shot my own foot like I liked to limp
At least I’d die a trying gimp

Mortal enemy was strife
And she looked at me funny
Couldn’t tell if she hated me or loved me
All I knew was she was my life

I will try to care less hope I feel better
Without caring less like the city weather
Mine is of an unfamiliar strain
I’m still convinced of triumph in my brain

Mindful

Main attraction was her
Her mindfulness was strange
Countenance made me change
I notice she is far

Her eyes they sparkled
I was there and I was shocked
My eyes glanced and in a stare we were locked
In my mind that was well handled

Next she spoke to me
I heard her voice it sounded familiar
She brought me to tears, to laughter
When she said touch me

The vibe was wrong as I misspoke and said that we could be friends
Her eyes contract as she was broke and didn’t like the signal that sends
One day we’ll dance I tried to say we’ll feel better in the Sun
That way that trance today as delicate as my fun

 

Weeds

Powder on my face to make me new

The grass was greener far as I knew

Tortured past and bright future guarantee

Worn still, clock ticking on my warranty

 

Secured was what I always thought my years were

Looking forward there was hope, longing

My mind focused on what I could do there

Hoping was easy as I sleep, my eyes closing

 

Nature hates me and life’s unfair

Looking back there was little hope and nothing

Pipe dreams and lies to self with no care

I’m a ghost man hollow dead man walking

 

I see myself looking back but there’s a stranger

He has a beard, scraggly all over his face

He is well fed but he still has hunger

Not me, he says don’t go to space

 

I wake up normal with no powder

I think the grass can be pruned this time

Leap into the uncertain and loiter no longer

I’m no less stuck than a mime

 

 

Dust

I opened the door on something forgotten
A place where I’d thrived and lived
The rock in which my life was built
It had been years since I’d seen anything so rotten

The dusty air choked my contempt
My waving hands felling cobwebs and dust serpents
I regret it all as I look at my hairy picture
My innocent period when I thought the world was pure

No continuation had been painted all over in my writing
Big red letters like bloody reminders
They lied in step up and other feel good outings
I didn’t get to have it all I had to choose, make a final divider

What ifs and could bes were not were never
I broke the ties and locked the gates
I had no regrets and no debates
Just a smirk for the times I was clever

There’s a life I could have had but never did
It ended before it began, there’s another sad loner in town
His dreams as dead as his hope and on his face a frown
There’s a line he could have crossed but never reached

Tales. The art of telling tales. The poet's mind.