Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
How Oct 2011
Blossoms wilt in
the winter;
As does man's
We are alone in the springtime.
Five-minute poems.

I'm still about; if anyone is still reading, thank you.

Please get in touch if you want to use my poetry anywhere, I will be more than happy to help.
How Aug 2011
I saw a star fall from the sky tonight.
It made me think about the beginning and end of life,
And everything inbetween.
This is known as 'living'; a tedious form of biology
Beautiful, evidently, in its own way
And a conundrum drowning every mind on the planet.
So ceaselessly devoted to understanding, are we
That most of our time 'living' is spent on this process,
As if our purpose and place is to find our purpose and place.
We exist as the ultimate dramatic irony,
Our spectators laughing as we sit perplexed
Only to be snatched before a conclusion is reached.

As the star fell, its tail faded
Catching up to its head in the process before disappearing into nothingness.
Is this what will happen to us?
Are our thoughts, feelings, desires, temptations, urges, wonderments, emotions, character and self
Really so easily snuffed?
Do we just disappear?
In the scale of things, do we really matter?
No; I am comforted by the thought that the star lives on
Free to travel the universe and impact on beings,
Be it beyond our level of reasoning.
And even if it no longer can be viewed, no longer implore others to its self,
I know it hit upon me in a manner I will never forget:
It has changed my own course just as gravity changed his,
Through myself and anyone that saw it, it will live on.
It will continue to be.
It will continue to exist.
How Aug 2011
It hits hard and I unravel
like a spindle,
My nerves breaking and stretching down to the last, thread-bare, drop.

Empty bottles detail the night;
Even these don't comfort anymore.
I am alone with myself.

Turning to face my accomplishments, I stare
Petrified by their lack of worth or meaning.
My mind is a dark room, the light has long since dimmed.
And you are yet to join me in this solitude.

Don't fret, it will come soon enough.
Quiet at first, then heaving
Smashing and crashing through your worlds own idea of itself.

Together we will be alone
And desolate but yet closer than two lovers may ever be.

Lost are we
Upon familiar ground,
Moving but stuck,
Reaching yet planted,
Close, alas apart,
Achieved and empty:
Loved. Unloved.

We are the last humans, my friend.
Never forget what it is to be alive;
Hold your Nausea close.
How May 2011
They say home is where the heart is:
Mine is currently in a car doing one-sixty in a fifty
Beats per minute zone traveling smoothly
As I dance from lane to lane.

This place will never leave me
As I scuttle, plain and simply.
Trying best to crash before I make it to my meeting
In a zone that's not the same.

This town changed long ago
And yet, I remained indifferent:
Idiocy could see right through me
And stupidity would hit a brick wall after I would.

I'm undeserving running through a desert made of wet sand
Whilst everyone else jogs onwards as if it's asphalt.
I am a lost soul:
Save yourself and treat me as a warning.
How May 2011
It is 4AM.
I am alone on the city
Illuminated pretty
By the glow of desolate streetlights.

Each building stood tall,
Crowded by its neighbours;
and I am scaring the landscape.

I prowl from street to street
Wondering who I'll meet
Trawling slowly from
one corner to the next.

And I'm alone, lost in this place
Left to search an empty basement
Full of junk I'd rather forget
That clings to me incessant.

This area a purgatory
And I am my own Jesus.
I burn at the stake,
faking proudness.

Not even Judas could appreciate this effort.
Originally had 'crowded' as 'crowdead'. Removed because I don't know how many people it would be lost upon.
How Apr 2011
Mandate me more,
for machines work better
not broken.

I am better used than left to rot:
My soul is not your plaything.
How Apr 2011
It repeats short bursts
over and
over and

Repetition after repetition,
time after time
It circles.

I am laid naked upon the cross of life
and you bare my front for me,
no more.

Are these my tears or just useless shower-water?
I'm stained.
Next page