A beginning

To thee I tell of love and jeer,

to give, a colour, it must be white.

Colourless and innocent predicts the seer,

but with honey comes its spite.

To thee I tell of disdain and betrayal,

and, cutting deep within the heart of day,

struck swiftly, clinically as moray.

With such dislike brought hammer to the nail.

 

"Look at your dream; there is all you covet,

 All that you cherish, together as one,

Each imperfection driving you closer,

Not for you, not now, not ever."

 

Granite esteem

Planetary warmth, even grey delights.
Cinderous appetite lies beneath her granite shell.
Knowledge brings delight, transparent acceptance exudes two souls.

Longing

Dandelion clouds made of spirograph snowflakes.
Heavenly serendepity, perfection amongst systematic anarchy.

Nothing more than a glance pt.2

A glance. 
A simple collision of the eyes.
Viewpoints conflict, but the conclusion is salient.
Necks pivot,
leaving but a memory,
of the resplendent misjudgement,
that our vision blesses upon us.

Antithesis

Out of life and death, it is life that scares me most.
The obligation to support unsettles me.

Lottery

With a great enough incentive, people are highly irrational.
One does not buy a lottery ticket under the assumption that one will win.
The lure of wealth is such a great one, that greed swallows rationality.

I worry that I am doing the same with love. If I have found something special, then am blinded by its very beauty?
Am I irrational? Clutching at pipedreams?

The person who buys a lottery ticket isn't saddened by the fact that they bought the ticket, just that they did not win. Regret sojourns, but it will return.

Love does not come with a receipt.

Then,

I grow frustrated;
My aspirations wait.
Every moment lessens the chance.
Happiness is within grasp, but insanity is as close behind.

Bun

Slanderous wretch.
Doorman to the injust.
Gargantuan delinquent, put away your tongue and brawn.
The guardian of safety is the danger itself.

Longing

Savour and slavour,
I promise you happiness.

Nonchalantness

I need motivation to need motivation.
It seems that minimalism is good within art, but bad within persons.

Away

Go, flee to times previous.
You are still my zest, if you are bygone or operative.
An orange is naked without its skin.

Smirk

Soft features blur my judgement.
Quintessentially delicate.

Pride

Here I live, in my gated community.
Burrow away with those close and those closest.
Asymmetry forces a frigid convulsion.
The cold is awfully toasty this time of year.

Drama

A spree of expression, I feel I am making up for lost time.
"You there, children, stop playing behind that curtain, you're distracting the class."

Beauty

Mistakes, Nuances, Intricacies.
Thank goodness for the epiphany of a tiring heart.

Scaffold

I require you, young scaffold.
without you, I am weak, young scaffold.
As a scaffold, you feel you could support me?
I am a sucker for functionalism when it works.

Onwards with whim.

Why do hearses have seatbelts?
They should not be travelling fast enough to cause any damage to the passengers.
Or, if a collision was to occur, is there a more fitting vehicle to signify ones demise?
Irony over safety,
Whimsy over sadness.

Black

Sicked wickening,
be sad or be sadder.
My eyes shed not one tear,
while stronger men mourn,
I think to myself
I am stronger than they are for such complacency?
or am I less human?

Sweet

When hope is met a smile comes forth, and all is well.

While currently a technicality, the future is swell.

Either that, or I am setting myself up for a fall.

I seek forgiveness

Here is an apology to my one reader.

I was temporarily unable to write, and temporarily unwilling.

I seek my own forgiveness.

Nap

Tap. Wake. Move.
Care? No. Snooze.

Appreciation

A round of applause is the most vicious of circles.

Swift

Onwards and outwards I fly, but my leash holds me from freedom.
Return to copse, fleeting excitability.
Fingers chug along, having lost poetic automation.

Redraw

The serious and young, have never heard about what to do,
"Truth," he said.
Then, two days decay.
Tuesday; simple, apology or not,
If you can get more games, then play them.
With a smile now and then.
We laugh at me, a candidate.

No pressure.

The smile returns, and all is well.

But in an instant, bemuddlement.

Misheard, misread, misunderstood.

I sleep with ruled eyebrows.

Return, joyous conclusion, bring with you warmth.

For the tenderness of yesterday, needs not be a memory.

We live, through life.

Acceptance

We cry, but it could not've gone any better.
Two magnets, finally attracted.
But such sweetness only makes decisions harder.
The hierarchy of being ever changing.
Such opportunity will lead to regret.
Come join me, in the cave of ponder.

The calm

Sweet apologies, dear reader.
The harmonies of change wake me.
For the moment, I must live.
The world is only as pleasing as one allows it to be.

Table

He walks into a meeting, sweat gushing from every pore.
Their eyes smirk at his slimy face.
He sits; the pressure disperses.
Nerves shred the certainty of the man.
Malevolence rotates.
An embibing of thick air.
The plan is spewed from a leader, and the tension shatters.
Evil unites.

Daydream

Behind decorative eyes, lies a melting pot of experience.
Ideas birth new horizons.
For a moment, fantasy is reality.
Cognition erupts, tearing down sweet vacation.
Click, then grey.
Buy yourself a cup of warm despair and get back on the treadmill.
Don't ask for a receipt, it's too late.

A heated debate

Shouting  "Yes" at the cosmos does not make one feel alive.
It wounds humanity.
We are sleepwalking into competition.

A plumped tongue
The silent mouthing of demands.

Predictably unpredictable

A win on a whim,
an impossible failiure.
Life, oh how you keep me guessing.

Higher

Expectations, while an evil that leads to masses of disappointment, are useful on the rare occasions that suppositions have been exceeded.
Things went better than expected, but I lack satisfaction.

A dilema

If happiness comes from no-where, no asset gain or such economic utility, is it happiness at all?
Is it a mirage that we summon to cover up our material failings?
Or is happiness without physicality true happiness?
Is economic utility a lesser plain of enjoyment?


I must answer this, to decide my life. To decide whether I regret, or whether I wither.
Love or wealth, both are a gamble.
I must pursue happiness, but I do not know what such a feeling is.

My head is clouded with oddities.
People are not proud of a love in another, but of wealth, praise is thrown round and jealousy contuses.
Does that jealous diminish the purity of such benefit?

Once I decide, I cannot change. I am tied to my confusion.

Crash

The box croaks forwards.

In it sits the careless one.

Left, right, left, she glances.

She looks, but she doesn't see.

Her engine churns, oblivious to the crescendo it is beginning.

The eye of time blinks, and carnage is apparent.

A biker, lies. His bike, strewn across the floor.

For a moment, there is silence. Perhaps it isn't silence, but no one hears a sound.

What happened?

"We didn't see him and he didn't see us" She declares.

With it goes her guilt.

Sirens sing, beckoning the weak soul to a waiting.

The hospital is limbo.

Everything he knew, gone in a second.

Moral carelessness wraithes the reich.

I must question how such behaviour can be exhibited,

how can we let fools have killing machines?

Cars in the wrong hands kill.

Mind you, hands in the wrong hands kill.

It is apparent that I must just sweep this injustice under the carpet.

I am simply a bystander to accidents, but it's vehemence haunts me.

How can one care more about the transport of life more than of life itself?

Be late for something, but be human.

Downloadable hope

Our thumbs and fingers have become our minds,
but we do not think, we graze on the plains of misinformation.
Locusts to all that has come before.
May we return to a way of physical civilisation.
Perhaps I'll be happy when I can download cups of tea.

Caged

Even when a chore goes away, a feeling of bluefunk arives.
Stockholm syndrome in a minor sense.
Humans crave pattern, routine.
An subterfuge to the lack of buzz and excitement.
Join the queue, and be glad.

Not just a quiz show

Too many questions chasing too few answers.

Soft

A comicbook quilt,
A comical guilt,
Even if I am ill,
I am young.
With youth comes excitement.

Intent

The fickle nature of humanity is one that confuses me.
I view desires as a complex, ever changing hierarchy of wants and possibilities.
I must first make myself a possibility for there to be want.
The majority of people do not view their desires in such a way, so I must avoid simply handing out a curriculum vitae to the subconscious of the masses.
Subtlety is a hard art to master.

A change in ethos

Thought is a necessity, sleep is a luxury.
The pain in my head tells me otherwise.
"The unexamined life is not worth living"
Sorry, Socrates, but I must become healthy to live, to even contemplate thought.

Waiting

It's getting late, but I remain.
Confusion smothers the harbour of repugnance.
I must first deceive you, before I can be honest.
It is not that I am testing you, for your worth,
but my fear of falling deep into tainted affections.
An infected affection, no-one can triumph.
This game is for mugs, and I'm a muggy, muddy mess.

Question

How can one define interest?
Not in an economic sense, but in an attention based way.
Am I receiving interest because I seek attention.
Adult behaviour is simply that of a child, without the streak of inquisitive nature.
The fear of inquisition envelops inquisitivity.

Theory

I have spent money that I did not have, on drinks that I did not want, to not have fun that I didn't want.
Technically, I've been successful.
Realistically, I've been pissed.

Ownership

Not even a blur, just nothingness.
I must become a detective to myself,
What have I done?
Perhaps self loathing is not the best way to reclaim memories.
I must attempt to be the "good cop" within retrospective files,
A new person, changed by events that I cannot remember.
Oblivion comes with it's upsides.

Bow

Wake up and savour the freshly ground despair.
Greed driving refinement.
Not even rats can compare to the vermin that we have become.
Meritocratic torture for the lower echelons of man,
forced to be, to bask in the luminocity of monetary delirium.
Slaves to our own system.
Spread the inequality,
Injustice is a God given right.
A flag is, frankly, advertising.

Bruise

His face, blue with cold meaning, blackened with ersatz zeal.

Investment

Aisling back and forth, the faces of delirium.
Which fabrication will you paint yourself in this time?
Distort yourself in the name of beauty.
Comply or be ostracised.
Snub this putrid ink.

Workshy

Malignant malingerer,
Curse this cursed curse.
Take over an undertaking.
Subsist, sub-syst.
Just a drain on the drains.
Being down winds me up.

Potion

Poisonous rotgut, we return to you for invisible memories.
It seems that if a person has some sort of major emotional wobble, they are required to have a major physical wobble too.
Libation for liberation.

Unexpedition

A lonely poets friends are simply words.
Friends, one would assume, that do not wish to harm me.
A serpentine tongue corrupts, envelopes my sweet consort.
Nothing is sacred.
My anchor erodes.

Slumber

Lethargy pours from my pores.
Once again sleep haunts my diurnal course.
Ditzing in an evening and languish through the day.
Why must I be a magnanimous species?
 The life of a feline would seem fitting, slumber and self interest the pivotal traits.
Not that I am gracious, but I have never heard of a heavy-handed cat, possibly because they do not have hands.
Perhaps I would be more stable on both levels, I have never heard of a sociopathic cat.
I've not heard of much, have I.
Ears for whiskers would be a fair deal.

Humanity

Tiptoe around civilisation,
distract yourself with a crumb of frolicity.
The gunfire has ceased.
The masquerade must end.
Overthrow your governing mask.
Quell the lies that smother us people.
We must be a paragon for the past.
Lift the umbrage,
Apothosised by the decayed.
Stand tall, in truth.

Quickly

An uneasiness has wormed its way inside me.
Truth blurred by the suspicion of assesment.
Must I change myself once again?
My metamorphosis is futile.
The stains of my character cannot be cleansed, at a time where I am needed to be at my most aseptic.

Pyjamas

Clothes that I once thought were fit for a king, are now thrown on with disgust, not even fit as pyjamas.
Where is my pride?
With such pride-losing abilities, am I thankful that I am not a lion, but the paroxysms of despondency persevere. 

Lazy

A day of hypothetical planning and self loathing.
Insanity lurks, waiting in my calender.
My pain is comparatively lower,
the singletons moan,
"I'm so lonely"
They have never experienced loneliness, only too much hope.

Apologies

I appear to have missed out a day of writing, this weekend.
Alcohol and despair make good partners.

Droop

Mind misery,
the throb of solitude.
My time is saturated with insincere buffoonery.
I spend my days being something which I am not.
Coifed by a false mien.
The fabrication must be removed,
but who will I let scrutinise my values?
Or will they probe themselves, in a search for truth?
So many possibilities, fear thread throughout.

Cogitation

The void between need and want is always growing.
Do we return because we ought to, or because we must?
I cannot promise secrecy, for misconduct is a greater fear than mortality.
Procedure encompasses judgement,
I did not seek emotional refuge in a rulebook.
Mechanical empathy is not a craving of mine.
May you renounce the fallacy of inspiration.

Over-illumination

A date has been set within my mind.
Exhibit, in writing, an end to this gloom.
However, I lead forth with necessitation, not appetite.
Apprehension and suspicion,
I require beatitude be prescribed.
I beseech of the viewer, an end to this deference of life.
A light at the end of the tunnel, perhaps?
I expect that I am to become snowblind with such light though.

Scale

A pain behind my eyes.
"It all hangs in the balance"
Thank goodness for fatalistic gravity.

Mr A

A bright spark,
sprites, lights,
enlights and enlists,
the twist of this missing kiss,
cursed to disperse,
disappear, the fool in king lear.
Adhere to a dear, dower worth an hour,
to the seer, laughs he, "ha, 'naw."
Peaks and troughs,
"unique?" he coughs,
whisked off on whiskey,
which he witched "Will enrich thee"
Slurred sir stirs and girds,
stares at girls,
stomach-a-churn.
"Not long 'till valentines day"
he's thick as clay,
happiness disregards dismay,
may this day,
purvey a misery,
for Mr A?
The smile,
it fades,
hope, as hair, quickening grey.
Yet ideals remain,
stupidity knows no shame.
If love is the game,
he has lust it.

Surprise

 A lingual misplacement,
conclusions unforseen.
A passing comment, with an unexpected effect.
People are but dominos,
Emotional, irrational dominos.

Beige

Time constricts the flow of ideas.
Only poor attempts at anti poems are left.
If a poem is just me expressing myself in words, then even explaining to you that I cannot write, is a poem.
A paradox of pretentiousness,
an a priori mindfuck.

Half

It is impossible to learn anything if you are tired, except perhaps the value of sleep.

Global

A deluge of tears,
Ethanol answers my hate.
Shunned and eschew,
is such renouncement a sign of things to come?
Plato is my friend in such hour,
may his timeless work ruminate and spew from me.
For motivation is my technique.
Wish me luck. Two thirds of that sentence are words that don't exist.
My plan is fallacious.

Yawn.

Sleep deluges an erratic frown.
I wait for the morn.

Aves

Twitching, yet witching,
Fibrillations of a quondam identity.
The mad hatter,
yet prospects shatter,
jaegered by clipped wings
shit-erpon by a flying metaphor that I cannot cage.
Expressing myself through words is less useful than birdsong.

Sympathy.

It seems there is a limited amount of sympathy in the world, as it suffers from problems such as inflation.
An advert showing children starving may have caused controversy in times previous, but such views are the norm.
How is it that we can only care about the shocking?
I mustn't evoke sympathy in anyone else, for that would be truly evil, I would be lessening the severity of death in the eyes of my peers. I must paint on a smile to improve the world.

Greed pt.2

It seems odd, in this opulent corner of the world, that greed is still a thriving part of the human mind.
While true, on a vague level, I must elaborate onto a more precise plain of description.
It scares me, that "All you can eat" buffets can exist.
If someone is hungry, and purchases some food, and eats it, that person is likely to have gained utility greater than the price of the foodstuffs. This utility is diminished, however, by the finite (Hopefully) size of ones stomach.
With the all you can eat buffet, however, it seems that people eat to the point of discomfort, then continue to eat, to get "Value for money."
I cannot comprehend what these people are paying for, they are not paying for happiness, they are paying for discomfort and ill-health.
Perhaps there is an economic model that can explain such barbarian desires, but until I fully understand that, I am confused by the larger than life buffet types. Aggression has taken agrip of me, I fear the potbellied folk have stirred a greater punishment on me, than they have on themselves.

Hiding

Adrenaline masks unhappiness, all I have to do is to be permanently terrified.

Fraction

Within a fairly close group of people, fun is limited by the lowest denominator, not the average of the people.

A trade off

Often, this "human nature" is referenced, yet it has never been explained. As far as I can see, knowing the lyrics to the same songs as others seems to count as growth. Originality crushed, eyes bright with a glitzy encumbrance.  Is that all there is to maturity? The spouting of meaningless popular auditory filth? Ignorance isn't just bliss, but it is the only way to survive.

Eek

I can't post on a computer.
I'd complain, but blogger is free.
It seems that I need money to even be unhappy these days.

Craving

When happy, I ask myself "why?"
When sad, I ask myself "why not?"
A pessimist drowning in happiness,
I need you anguish,
Now things are my fault,
and not some physicalist imbalance.
The inevitable paradox will steal my sleep.

Swell

An feeling of worth has come to me in the night,
A sprinkle of motivation added by the sandman.
My behaviour, reverting to its former ferocity.
"There's plenty of fish in the sea"
What a shame that I am fast becoming a giddy kipper.

Reset

My poems, while still a simple way of presenting my life and the issues I experience, has become much more of a diary of mistakes. This is possibly a good thing, as people may be able to relate to me, however, I very much doubt that there is anyone who is foolish enough to lose both their passport and their wallet in the same instance.
Fortunately, for me, both articles have returned, and in a similar fashion, I hope to return to a way of whimsical metaphors and other such expedients of expression.

Scaffolding

More of the same, shame the same is awful.
The care of others is fickle, at a time when I require a human scaffold the very most.
This existence must be some sort of punishment.

Heck.

Without money, and a passport, I am geographically trapped.
"You're basing your depression on your hatred of this part of the world, not the whole world, you'll escape and it'll be marvellous and you'll be happy"
Such phrasing taunts me as my means to happiness are destroyed by either crime or carelessness.
Yet another level of constraint.

Bread

Park Bench.
Tears, but no bread.
No hope, no bread.
At least the ducks empathise.

Red

As far as bad ideas go, bullfighting is one of them.
Particularly if that bull is me.
My desire to dissipate grows daily, and so does my longing to make an impact on the world.
Evidently, my anthema is unaware of such feelings, and resorts to taunting.
He will pay, one day - such a terrible thing to say, but I owe it to myself, I am the enforcer of my own judgement. I decide on what is right and wrong and punish people accordingly.
Disgust strikes the faces of anyone who I invite to the sanctum of such emotion.
"But that's illegal!" The consequence of my actions leading to a fear of incarceration. In reality, if I acted upon my desire for vengeance, my aims would have been completed. The state cannot cage a dead man. Their sanction is flawed. Retribution is simply sophistry. I have learnt to hate myself for such desires; not the greatest plan for one who feels life is not worth living. We are taught to respect life, as humans; however, respect must be earnt, and I fear I have not just been dealt a bad hand, but I have been hustled.
Vengeance is all that stops me from becoming a memory. So far I have resisted temptation, but I must view my rage as a fatalist. I have truly lost control over myself. Let's hope this malediction is cured with monotony and anguish.
If taunted again, I forcee that my daydreaming wrath will become reality. For such weakness, and such strength, I am sorry.

Late

Late for "The rest of my life" apparantly.
Ignore the fact that i'd be skipping the inevitable decay of humanity,
focus on the issue that someone somewhere might shout.
No-one shouted. No-one batted an eye lid.
No-one ever bats an eye lid.
I wouldn't be surprised if apple produced a product designed to stop the destruction of lunchboxes by sports equipment.
No-one ever bats an iLid.

Hope

"A problem shared is a problem halved"
Someone or my unconcious said that once or never.
It seems, that in this desolate plain of repetition,
I have found hope.
Hope, that indicates expectation.
And expectation that can provide disappointment.
Curse you, logical hatred.

Commatose

Instead of the "What a day!" response that I desired,
I have been ambushed by a punctuation,
"What, a day?"
Blue Monday blew.

Envelope

I sit, on the mat, by the door.
I wait.
Time passes, as time does.
When someone reads something, the words and their effects are not instant.
Either that or I am meaningless.
Time passes, as time does.

Eek

An aplogy, of sorts.
To the people who do not currently care, but perhaps will in the future.
My timekeeping skills are truly terrible.
I can't decide whether or not that would be a useful skill to have if I were to be a time traveller.

Excitement

Once again, my life consists of planning and words that frustrate philosophers.
This, is because today, I am excited.
Excitement for a minor event, when such a major problem looms.
My unquantifiable emotions shuffle further,
Perhaps the cloud has passed?

The

Can poetry ever capture the mundanity of parts of life?
 The, the, the, the, the,  the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, there is my attempt.

A stutter in the unending pace of decay.

Technology

A dear friend,
One of logic,
and clinical decision making.
Machine of wonder, why wont you work?
You do not feel my disappointment, and I do not feel yours,
for I am but a cretinous clown.
A helpless mechanical child,
left to starve by its exiguous adopted parent.
Forgive me, dear computer.

Imagine

"Imagine a world with no references to music" said my communist friend, Jonny; Leninist.

Anachronism

Suited man,
stands,
demands quicksands,
in the promised land.
No religion,
no opinions,
no contradiction.
Heads bob,
I sob,
yet the group,
rubes, not rubies,
not fit to test a tube,
"move to the groove"
A nod will suffice,
saves the use of ice,
hit then head hits gneiss,
thinks the pessimist, the sweet generaliser. 
Hateful, as I am to this in group, shunning lambastes.

According to plan.

Who is plan, why does everything have to go according to he/she.
Ambiguity is a friend to the friendless.
What was once a great idea,
has decayed,
defiled by a limited vocabulary and an overwhelming fear of sounding pretentious.
To finish with, a vague generalisation,
relate to me,
pretend i'm human.
Time changes all.

Symptoms.

A civil war within my own being.
I fear that my bowel will hold a coup d'état and I will defecate until my death.

Ailments

My neck has become a whip.
Sneezes erupt from my enervated body.
Motivation has been sapped, as desires loom.
Inward shift, of the PPF of my aims.

Sadness

Sadness, in another, can confuse more than sadness within oneself.

Birthday wants

Happy birthday, here is some capitalism.
Greying hair, greying hope.

Emptiness

Nothing happened.

Well, probably something, somewhere. 

Some philosopher probably thinks that nothing counts as something.

If that is the case, then not even nothing happened.

Greed

All you can eat, not all you can enjoy.

New year

A new year brings new motivation, why is it that improvement and aims decay?