What can a man do, helpless as we are hopeless, believe it or not, the only truth about human existance is that; both the rich, the poor, the wise, the foolish, the good, the evil, we are all slaves to destiny, no matter how we try to change it, deny it, fact is; it is the end of it all, we live at the mercy of destiny, though destiny can not be dissapointed as for man live and die, so will you and i; destiny is the ultimate decider of a man's reality, never have i stood aside when man rise and fight their battles, watch man suffer and die at the hands of destiny, then i knew that if we are really slaves of destiny, we must not always slave in tears and hardship, we can atleast slave in dignity and comfort
Faces lost in blank expression
Wait in stasis for their stop,
Shuttled from one potential
To the next like letters
In a mailman’s bag.
The sounds and smells of strangers,
The uncomfortable touches,
The squeezing in spaces,
The jerking rhythm of the ride,
The pram queens who sag
Against the railing
While their kids twist and turn
And scream at the lack of fun
In the faces of blank expression,
While couples tongues quietly wag.
Youthful monsters sit at the back
Playing tunes for the irritation
Of the old school music hacks,
While grandma dozes against the glass,
Shopping drawn up like a wall
To protect her from her past.
Father and daughter
Playing a game,
Sitting next to two lovers
Who are doing the same.
The tickling natter of friends,
The glare of phones,
The lying dog’s stare.
Life on the buses,
A slice of people
For the cost of a fare.
As if you actually know what its like to love you,
Dealing with mind bending headaches
That only seem to scrape at the sides of my temples like broken glass in my fingertips
Catching myself playing sappy love songs to try to soothe my broken heart
I understand you didn't mean to hurt me,
I wouldn't dare to tell you that I stay up all hours of the night
Pondering the gritty words you said before you kissed me
You tasted like sandcastles and night stars
As if you were my daydream
As if you actually knew what it meant to cry 10,000 5 am tears,
set aside just to greet your face at 7
because you don't know I'm slowly cracking like elephants on eggshells
As if you know how to love a women like a straight man,
your hands caress my arms like the sunset kisses the horizon
Almost how the stars melt into the atmosphere
You are my atmosphere I breathe you in like oxygen
But you've become poisonous, what used to be my lifeline is now my deathbed you're no good for me
Because you don't look at me the same way you look at him
with your brown eyes as deep as the milky way
Laugh as loud as meteors
You never cease to amaze me.
Yet you still tell me you want to hold me in your castle arms,
that you want to hold down my fortress
You want to be my knight in shining armor
but I know you'd rather carry the weight of him instead of me.
Constellations grapple to the under belly of your lies
The moon has whispered in my ear that you are no good for me
Once again I don't think you understand
I know you don't understand
why can't you understand
We are no good for each other
Because while you're above the clouds,
Way past the heavens,
I have my feet firmly planted in reality.
Old Slim Jim
all soaked in gin,
his cards upon the cloth.
The Candle burning at both ends,
with everything he's ever sought.
Smoke obscures the mirrors.
A cheap view,
to the other side.
Old Slim Jim
is holding bullets,
something that his old eyes hide.
Reaching for the bottle,
hand as steady as the wind.
A ghost upon the shadows,
passes, and it makes him grin.
Old Jim Believes in omens,
pointers from a different realm.
Cards upon the table.
In that old place by the Thames.
Wouldn't you say,
Wouldn't you say: one day,
With a little more time or a little more patience, one might
Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delight
One of the moment's hundred strands, unfray
Beginnings from endings, this from that, survey
Say a square inch of the ground one stands on, touch
Part of oneself or a leaf or a sound (not clutch
Or cuff or bruise but touch with finger-tip, ear-
Tip, eyetip, creeping near yet not too near);
Might take up life and lay it on one's palm
And, encircling it in closeness, warmth and calm,
Let it lie still, then stir smooth-softly, and
Tendril by tendril unfold, there on one's hand ...
One might examine eternity's cross-section
For a second, with slightly more patience, more time for reflection?