I'm fed up with trying to be deep
I'm really sick of it
There's nothing else I need but sleep
But I can't get a stick of it
It's the dripping of the drain pipe
Or the falling of the rain
Call it the windows that need a wipe
Or any other name
The shame of it is maddening
The curse is just the same
And if you try to tell your dad
He just speaks his words in vain
Yes I'm fed up with being deep
I'm not afraid to admit it
It takes a deep man to say he's shallow
And I'm in such low waters
That I could paddle
In fact I could wade to the shore
And remain on dry land
There's nothing much to search for anymore
There's no hidden treasure
In the ocean bed's sand
Perhaps there once was a ship of Victory
But she's long been sunk and salvaged
Her cargo's been reclaimed
No I'm sick to the back teeth of being deep
I want all my poetry renamed
It should be named the pill
Or the heavy eye-lidder
The drowsy smell of flowers
That makes the driver veer off course
On a skidder
And the car crash wreck is a double decker
Like the Ship that sunk in the sleep
Oh yes I've had it up to the neck
Like the drumming wood pecker
I'm so sick of trying to be deep
Wednesday, 20 November 2019
Truly Deeply
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Ocean's eleven -or Rhyme of the ancient mariner Revisited
I set off for eleven oceans
After I'd sailed seven seas
Four more I could not fail
I thought it would be a breeze
I was a lonesome vagabond
in search of riches, tourism and drink
But on that eleventh ocean
was where my ship did sink
A-drowning I was ship-wrecked
my raft it was marooned
upon the shore of a far off Isle
by a whale I had Harpooned
For where is this poor countree
that ye have towed me to?
He said well lonesome vagabond
I've towed ye to Peru
Peru I said and startled up
Where canst a man walk home?
Neigh dear lonesome Mariner
For too far have ye now roamed
But Lo what Majestic sky turned out
When I did turn me Head
For Heaven displayed a plethora of stars
One if followed must home me led
To orient I fixed the whale
Again out on the ocean
And told him hence to beat his tail
And thus from this dark Isle we shall give motion
And so on the crew of one did wend
It's starlit toiling passion
For the sea was as green as a wild monster
Calling my heart's courage to ration
Never a boat had thus put sail
Upon these treacherous seas
Nor chart or map to orient
Our pathless way to ease
We journeyed on without rainfall,
Our mouths were parched as sands
And the rats which fled from my raft
The searing heat they could not stand
Then to me appeared a visage of a friend
One I had known but now long lost
A man I had betrayed in love
And now before me visited his ghost
Accusing eyes they pierced me
And cut me to the quick
That I should live, while he had died
No candle burns a faster wick
Then flames in cohorts filled the scene
And seemed to set a light the timber
And in each flame a visage appeared
Of a man who was my crew member
They called to me and cried still worse
Why have you forsaken your brothers?
Because your life and ours were tied together
Now our deaths will be your curse
So, on I fled, crying “take me away from this guilt”
And soon from the air came a wandering dove
The evil which gave voice to these spirits
Had been dissolved by a face of love
The dove joined my vessel and led the
Whale towards dark cliffs,
“It is land “I cried
And so grateful was I
That no line written could tell of my bliss
Thank you said I, but then down did he die
Exhausted upon the deck
My future still lay in the balance, so for luck
I wore the bird around my neck
The Island was old and grey from a distance
But with speed became more familiar
It was the very spot I had sailed from
In June fifteen long years past clear
The wedding guests had arrived and there
I went with utmost haste
Now to you I regale my tale
Of eleven ocean's to which I lay waste
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Meet me on the island
Meet me on the island
I'm drowning, I'm drowning
Meet me on the island
Of a thousand crownings
A thousand brown hens
Crowing the morning
A thousand cockrels
Cock adoodling a warning
Meet me on the island
Of sacrifice
Meet me on the island
Called paradise
I've been over the cold iron bridge
And I've been stuck on
a hot fiery ridge
Been too close to the sun
On my midnight run
Been down to the brook
To read a book
And lay down by the stream
To take sometime to dream
Now meet me on the island
We live in the promised land
We'll row over there one night
Under cover, out of sight
And draw our bows from the withies
And we'll stretch our strings
From twine that bark brings
And make a harp that sings
In the starlight
And you'll brood in the rude rushes
In a hood where you stood under crushes
Of the night when it fell
When we heard the tolling bell
Ring out like a warning through the reeds
So meet me on the island
Where all of it bleeds
And it mixes in the river
And its carried in the flood
I can see your eyes full of water too
Like you could cry by the riverbank
But darling can't you tell
The island is ours as well
So let's keep it a secret
And give thanks
To keep it
Kick out the kites
And Deliver the doves
The gulls are so bright
Silouhetted crosses above
Where the crows crowd in a parliament
And parle about the world outside their branches
They sit on the wires,
like old men around fires
Discussing the government
Like cowboys on ranches
I'm drowning, I'm drowning
Meet me on the island
Of a thousand crownings
A thousand brown hens
Crowing the morning
A thousand cockrels
Cock adoodling a warning
Meet me on the island
Of sacrifice
Meet me on the island
Called paradise
I've been over the cold iron bridge
And I've been stuck on
a hot fiery ridge
Been too close to the sun
On my midnight run
Been down to the brook
To read a book
And lay down by the stream
To take sometime to dream
Now meet me on the island
We live in the promised land
We'll row over there one night
Under cover, out of sight
And draw our bows from the withies
And we'll stretch our strings
From twine that bark brings
And make a harp that sings
In the starlight
And you'll brood in the rude rushes
In a hood where you stood under crushes
Of the night when it fell
When we heard the tolling bell
Ring out like a warning through the reeds
So meet me on the island
Where all of it bleeds
And it mixes in the river
And its carried in the flood
I can see your eyes full of water too
Like you could cry by the riverbank
But darling can't you tell
The island is ours as well
So let's keep it a secret
And give thanks
To keep it
Kick out the kites
And Deliver the doves
The gulls are so bright
Silouhetted crosses above
Where the crows crowd in a parliament
And parle about the world outside their branches
They sit on the wires,
like old men around fires
Discussing the government
Like cowboys on ranches
Labels:
islands,
Relationships
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Double Crossed
What can I do for you?
Sitting in the park
Watching the people go by
Waiting for the dark
Where are they going?
Are they happy with their lives
Are they filled with sorrow or joy?
And what can I do for you or am I just your toy?
I am often a watcher of life
On the carousel
It goes round and round
And I stand in the middle and yell
Can anybody hear me
Do I make a sound
And what can I do for you?
Am I making any ground?
You see I'm incognito
I'm the master spy
There are thieves like me
Everywhere
Just in the act of stealing
They die
And every double agent
Has heart that's double crossed
Its just you can no longer steal it
When it already has been lost
The world is made of instances
Much like a film you see
And if you slow it down a notch
Then life suddenly is free
We don't have to rush, we don't have to fight
There is no final bell
We just hope we'll make it back home tonight
Sitting in the park
Watching the people go by
Waiting for the dark
Where are they going?
Are they happy with their lives
Are they filled with sorrow or joy?
And what can I do for you or am I just your toy?
I am often a watcher of life
On the carousel
It goes round and round
And I stand in the middle and yell
Can anybody hear me
Do I make a sound
And what can I do for you?
Am I making any ground?
You see I'm incognito
I'm the master spy
There are thieves like me
Everywhere
Just in the act of stealing
They die
And every double agent
Has heart that's double crossed
Its just you can no longer steal it
When it already has been lost
The world is made of instances
Much like a film you see
And if you slow it down a notch
Then life suddenly is free
We don't have to rush, we don't have to fight
There is no final bell
We just hope we'll make it back home tonight
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Just a man
The world is black but I am white
The angels sing
But not tonight
Who am I, but what I am
The world is heavy
I'm just a man
In the ashes of my final hour
I see the seeds of hope's bright flower
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But who am I
I'm just a man
In a world that's grey
I am cold
In a world that's worn
I am old
And as I walk round
Disaster's castle
The walls crumble down
Like Saint Stephen's tower
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But who am I
I am just a man
The clock strikes one
I am all alone
The feelings come
But of none I own
In a desert sand
My foot prints clear
Some times I walk
No one is near
Sometimes I struggle
Sometimes I fall
My eyes see double
My ears hear call
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But what am I
I am just a man
The angels sing
But not tonight
Who am I, but what I am
The world is heavy
I'm just a man
In the ashes of my final hour
I see the seeds of hope's bright flower
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But who am I
I'm just a man
In a world that's grey
I am cold
In a world that's worn
I am old
And as I walk round
Disaster's castle
The walls crumble down
Like Saint Stephen's tower
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But who am I
I am just a man
The clock strikes one
I am all alone
The feelings come
But of none I own
In a desert sand
My foot prints clear
Some times I walk
No one is near
Sometimes I struggle
Sometimes I fall
My eyes see double
My ears hear call
And while I lie
An Angel stands
But what am I
I am just a man
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 17 November 2019
Rough cities
Rough cities
Where there is panic and crime
I went to sleep on someday
To wake up in my prime
The north wind blows about
My front door
I've been seeing ghosts again
Walking up and down the stair
Too many posts of pain
Too much at stake about which I don't care
Flashing about the city with life
To spare
But life is cheap in the street
Under the auspices of the bear
Who should you turn to in your despair
Nothing left to live for
On the road to Babilon
Keep the wheels rolling
When somethings not right its wrong
Where there is panic and crime
I went to sleep on someday
To wake up in my prime
The north wind blows about
My front door
I've been seeing ghosts again
Walking up and down the stair
Too many posts of pain
Too much at stake about which I don't care
Flashing about the city with life
To spare
But life is cheap in the street
Under the auspices of the bear
Who should you turn to in your despair
Nothing left to live for
On the road to Babilon
Keep the wheels rolling
When somethings not right its wrong
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Saturday, 16 November 2019
Alpha Mail
The run was running out the back side of the linen
The sandals of diamonds
The damsels of the sand and
the random hands of
Fate and kate
And all the shape of nape
Under cape and dagger
I stagger Like a swagger
In the fake shake
I forsake the saffron make
Of Peace and pace
Of lace and dice
Of dace and lice
All among the hallowed homes
Howling like a hurricane around the mountains
Moaning like a lake in the low meadow break
The sandals of diamonds
The damsels of the sand and
the random hands of
Fate and kate
And all the shape of nape
Under cape and dagger
I stagger Like a swagger
In the fake shake
I forsake the saffron make
Of Peace and pace
Of lace and dice
Of dace and lice
All among the hallowed homes
Howling like a hurricane around the mountains
Moaning like a lake in the low meadow break
Labels:
mountains
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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