Inspired or enraged by Amanda Chong’s youth and brilliance as I type up my notes about ‘lion heart’, I’ve decided to start adding some of my own poetry to the site.
Feel free to ridicule and critique, but I write quite a bit of off the cuff poetry in day to day life and I’d like a place to store it.
Me and You
Am I your loneliness?
Holding on with cold hands
Am I your fear?
Standing up in front of you
Am I your nightmares?
Lurking before your face
Screaming for you to
Am I your misery?
Sitting here on your shoulder
Comment – inspired by a weird piece of graffiti on a student’s spelling test.
The less I do, the more I see:
the depths of boredom,
strength of my humanity.
I sit, I stare, I type:
alone, at nothing, to my past.
A job becomes a chore
something to abhor
each bump a mountain
each moment a lifetime I’m surmounting.
They clatter and screech
every second I feel them leech
my very Soul through my eyes:
which drop, slowly begin to despise:
this place, these creatures, this role;
apocalyptic waste land, rotting soul.
Tomorrow is a lifetime or more away
But today I take the money, I stay.
Comment – I was having a bad day at work and really went to town with it. It’s not meant to be offensive, but more one of those moments when you reminisce about a happier time and for a moment only see whatever is happening in your life as being a bit shit.
At the risk of ridicule
At the risk of ridicule,
I’ll let my hair out long
and ignore the latest trend.
I’ll hum some old and worthless song
and resist the chance to blend.
I’ll sit alone and read
and drown out sniggers in a blink.
I’ll find the friends I need
and tell you what I think.
Or I won’t.
I’ll think it and I’ll feel it
never daring to reveal it.
An imposter through my eyes
is really me in disguise:
Saying what you want me to
for fear of what you’ll put me through.
There’s me, you, there’s them
It’s safer to be one than to be alone.
Comment – no idea, I think I must have just come across the phrase and just started playing around with it.
Passion’s fire’s in heartbreak;
Romance’s soul our loneliness,
its voice in the tortured’s tomb.
Jealousy haunts us in our wilderness.
Suffer and burn when you’re young –
but Rise to kill youth and fire!
Banish ballads sung
and crush vicious hate and desire.
True fire never burns,
worries melt in its embrace.
Only poets prize pain;
Only poets choose to suffer alone.
It should’ve been you from the start
I choose life, not art.
Comment – living in strange places necessitates a certain creativity for partner’s birthdays. I’m quite proud of this though and think it is a much more realistic take on love than poetry as a general rule barrages us with.