Manuel John

Manuel John Nov 2019

It has taken a few weeks
to perfect your recipe
A few more to taste it. The sadness on you
has become your scent,
lingering on your sheets,
just like you. And its the same everyday, routine, until you’ve become a stereotype. You spend the whole day
watching phone calls
rise and fall like empires
or forgotten cities. Like this, you want to be left alone
To wonder why you’re alone. And so you seem to think
about everything, yet nothing at all. And you like how it feels
how the darkness is flirtatious. So you go another night,
just another night. Manuel

#depression #sad #darktimes #insomnia #poem

Manuel John Nov 2019

So…hope?

What is hope?
Hope isn’t much, actually, but it’s a lot.
I like to see hope as a Huge On Positive Enigma…difficult to
explain, maybe just as difficult to have.
I see hope as us…Healing Over Past Experiences.
I see hope as us…Humans, On Persistent Expectations, living
to see tomorrow. Hope isn’t just Her Only Powerful Exertion over these tough
situations. It’s his as well. Hope is Having Our Problems Eventually die out someday. Hope isn’t just a name, How Often Placed Especially on girls.
It’s much more than an identity. Hope is us, Having Our Patient Expectations met…waiting
till then. Hope is Here…Our Present Euphoria, just until we have
what we hope for. Hope is How Our Planet Escapes being swallowed by
negativity…but that’s just my opinion.

HOPE has been defined
The beauty in this is how each definition spells out hope in acronyms...
Enjoy

#hope #yellow #optimistic #halffull #bright

Manuel John Nov 2019

BLOOD, FEAR AND FUMES

will all spill alike
One seeping into the other
A symphony of chaos and darkness_ An order from prophecy; of disorder
and a raised structure of destruction
For the skies will be as earth_ Dusty and dead
The earth, just as dead
That everything in between
Would be buried
That everyone in between
Would be buried alive
in blood, fear and fumes

#apocalypse #darktimes #poetry

Manuel John Nov 2019

Roaming Strangers

Would it make any difference if for our love, we died? Punishment
upon us_the sinful but loved. The pride of our desire, the fervour of
our abridged lust, all banished to solitude. Now, only curiosity stands
between us, our naked souls. We, executed for who we are, outcasts
worthy only of each other. Separated and with all elements spawned
against us. Time pulling on our faces and chests and ***** as we fade in
wait. Laws over our heads till we die. We died right from the start. We only grow
now in death. Till we die again, to meet again, to live again, for in my
book the black sheep make the finest wool.

#lostlove #heartache #forbidden #passion

Manuel John Nov 2019

Love()less

You have tried to find love. You have searched in the most
utile of places, thirsting for a sip. You have asked your
lover what lies between her thighs
maybe you could find
some love there. She’d say rosé… she always does; the
older it is, the drier it gets. And now, you have drunk so
much rosé
practically all day, or every other Thursday
night till you have grown weary of its taste. But you
have heard that love lasts forever_ a lingering heartthrob , not a recurring hiccup from too much wine_Yes, you have
heard tales of a fairy tailing princesses until true love is
found. Yet, you remain here-loveless, loveless
and
loveless again. Maybe if you looked for love less, just
maybe you would find it, maybe it would find you. Maybe…eventually

#love #heartache

Manuel John Oct 2018

ASTRAL COLOURS

A leaf slowly danced his way onto my laps and the stars fall out of place
in just that way
whenever I’m in bed. The shape of my state is blue; ready for your
autopsy of questions, ready to be tried once again. I am barely home
now but my eyes are dimming - flashes of white roses and purple
bracelets spill all over.
I just will not fall asleep. I won’t give myself that
satisfaction. Not even now that I deserve it. Time pulls on your face
and chest and *****,
but only if you’d ask nicely and agree to fade in wait.
I am always found groaning of
wanting cake and never getting any,
squatting in my good boy corner. The only place I am at peace with
myself, where I can agree with all that I have to say to myself.