Who's that knocking on my window pane?
It's just the wind, again and again
Who's that knocking I thought it was you
I can't find the words
To say I'm sorry
It's just the wind,
It'll have to do
Who's that opening my heart like a can
To find another heart shaped man
My heart is just a fruit in a can
For you to eat, eat it up, lover woman
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Oh my baby Caroline
G My peace and my war D Am What do you wish for Emfrom this Red Wine?A7 DTo Compare your blood to mine? [Verse 2] G What if, what if, if so your human woesGcould all amount to the indigo C D Bm EmFlowing river under the bridges of VeniceC Am EmBeneath the Gondolas' oars [Verse 3] C D G C My struggle and my torment Am C D GOh God grant me deathG C My baby Caroline, what a pity, G Dwhat a pity this love is in this cityGWhat a pity
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
It's inexplicable and lickable
So spickable and spanable
So fickle and fannable
The flicking blood of May
When lords have loved the lady's bed
And Straws are laid upon their backs
And Camels weigh the light of day
By answers grey or white or black
When young thugs hail the coming rain
When old lugs pale then face again
The Age of change for it all looks strange
To eyes without lies and truth without pain
Yet follow me and I will lead you
To the driving range
Where golf balls fly
And it's tee at Four!
And no one's rearranged
Just wait for me in the garden and climb
The Trellis late
I looked for you beside the gate
And no one shook my fate
I looked for you in the darkness
And in the corridors of light
That filled with the tears
Of long lost steers
Who wander on into the night
So take the bow and string your arrow
Fling your fire lights
The silk worms are spinning clothes for you
That glisten in the night
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I loved you left, I loved you right
I loved you wrong and in your flight
I loved you day, I loved you night
There's nothing left, you're out of sight
I loved your soul, I loved your body
I cannot control, or mollycoddle
The sense your life is precious light
I loved you dark, I loved you bright
So don't leave me now
I can't bear the weight
Of sorrow
Of the pain
It is too late
To lie to you now
Of the shame
Of the shadow
But how can my love be wrong
When I love someone so good and strong?
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sometimes, everything must go
The windows are rattling
As spring winds blow
Clearing out the clutter of last year in tow
Dredges from ditches of ideas that flow
Sometimes everything must go
And it's like I need to let go
Of all those fugitive pieces I stole
Shards of hearts exploded
Glass animals collected in menageries
They all got shattered
Precious though they were
They are all dust in the desert now
Everything must go
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I'll let you know
If I'm still in the land of the living
I'll see you tomorrow
I've never seen a ghost
In the land of the living
I'm glad to be back in the land of the living
Glad to be the black cat and not grave digging
Glad for your life hack that kept me breathing
Glad to be back in the land of the living
Am I really? Yes! Well why?
I guess, it's that we were born to die
And all our days are numbered
But if I thumbed a lift with Thumbelina
For a little time her trampolina
If I humbled myself at her cortina
A courtly show for a fashionista
But nothing must glow as hot and cold as
The sun we are all under
We regret to inform you
That it will not rise tomorrow
Has never crossed anyone's mind
But for the fact that she breathes
I cannot detach myself so well
I've tried to pull her out of my heart
But the seed was planted, love kick started
And now it's banished by her rule
I fell apart for a bit, not sure if I'm
Together again, just yet
It's just a letter I write from the base of wall
Which I fell off last night
It was just my pride that's hurt, I'll bet
I'm back in the land of the living
And I'm trying to live without regret
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Moving the mannequins
How do we carry them?
How can the body be spare?
Nobodies, everybody nowhere
Nothing to wear, no hair, no air
But graceful poises, not making noises
Standing so silently, spare
In use or out of it, in storage in the cupboard
Up in the attic
Wholly vacant like some static
The status quo of not moving at all
All hail human existence
Looking in the mirror at the dummy
The numb, dumb country bumpkin
The straw man, scarecrow
Worzel Gummidge figure
Come in to transfigure the interior design
Portfolio of foliage
Caught a cold you know like Coleridge
Walking out in the snow and storm like Keats
Cathy come home staring out the window
For Heathcliff
On the cold moors, the dale
That separates our homes
Mechanical walking of limbs
Legs and spare arms carried
As if by medical students to the
Dissecting theatre
The autopsy of the dead relative begins
Where is she now?
Where is her soul, I can't find it
In her model's eyes
What do I want with her body?
With her imperialist grey skies
That have dominated me
From sunrise to moonrise
The set order of a regimen of lies
To get me down the endless catwalk of Winter
Into Spring
Looking in shop window reflections
To make sure I still exist
And have not been turned into
Yet another of her mannequins
On her archived list
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.