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Rupert Pip Mar 2022
Sunshine lights this endless day;
I swim amongst the lake above,
walking round the flat terrain
of Lincolnshire’s spring, in love.
Jack adjoins my roaming mind
and Allen sings aside the birds;
I walk n’ walk with woes behind,
so marry up with the Mother Earth!

I bless my hands with fallen leaves
to feel the way they’d hug my skin.
My eyes expand in disbelief,
this leaf and I are one, akin.
I need not find another soul,
for all the love and what it’s worth,
is out there now, outside the hole,
so marry up with Mother Earth!

The clouds part quick;
a wanderers dream.
The grass grows thick,
enveloping me.
Flowers dance with helpless joy,
as I have found another birth,
insects smile, a bubbling boy,
so marry up with Mother Earth!

Travel home, and all things close,
as slammed doors shutter frames.
My phone lights up for one more dose,
and I burst out in flames.
I miss the sky, the summer rain,
the grass, the birds and endless mirth.
Indoors I find a stomach pain,
I miss the ******* Mother Earth.
Rupert Pip Feb 2022
I was drowning
in the passenger seat;
the road ahead
was flooded
no less,
and the
night above
bled out light
like a thatched roof
dressed with war wounds.

That storm we found ourselves in
was a peculiar one;
all my clothes were drenched
much were yours, I guess,
steering the wheel as you did.

The city was just so beautiful
on that night;
if only we could been there instead:
dancing and laughing, as we would.
We were far enough away
that it could have had its own
seatbelt on, sat besides me,
being thrown left to right
by all this
solemn debate.

"Everything will be alright."
the man on the radio sang,
...will it?
Everything will be alright.
Rupert Pip Feb 2022
She had eyes like crazy oceans,
angered by the shoreline,
stepping on it's heels.

i miss them.

Maybe not tripping
over them everyday,

But i wish they'd meet
with me tonight
just so they can **** me up
one or two more times

then i will return to write,
with sand slipping
through my fingers

Rupert Pip Jan 2022
Down by the river
the water is running laps
laughing like a child after sugar.
Rupert Pip Dec 2021
Severed tress and fairy lights
Capital punishment for plastic Claus
Yule embers singing songs.
A (American) haiku
Rupert Pip Dec 2021
and for the record,
no one thinks they're pretty
when they rain

so cry your ****** heart out,
and snort around the trough
whilst you’re covered
in mud.

Just let it all remind you
why this poem is
absolutely pointless.

And so are you,
and so am I,
and so is your dog
you love so much.

Because all we know
is the point in which
you start breathing,

and that eventually
you’re going to stop too,

so do something decent
with the middle
won’t you?

may aswell x
Life is a tax-man, indeed.
Rupert Pip Dec 2021
I miss the waves
that kiss shore
like the hair that falls
to greet your body

but when your
here with eyes
transfixed on
the night

and I get the
pleasure of
seeing it

nothing seems
so bad.
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