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Oli Nejad Jan 2013
I am twenty years old today.
I know nothing.
I am thirty years old today.  
I know a bit, but not what I’m doing.

I am forty years old today.
What little I thought I knew… turns out it was wrong.
I am fifty years old today.
I know more than you sonny.

I am sixty years old today.
I’m tired of knowing.
I am seventy years old today.
I never appreciated people.
Oli Nejad Jan 2013
I will not die regretful,
Nor dissatisfied,
For I raced against the millions
To call this life my prize.
Oli Nejad Nov 2012
So it’s about half ten
And my then friend, Ben
Is walking with me to the shops.
We chat **** about lit
As we’re acquainted through college.
So together we’re relatively
Secure in the knowledge
That at least we can agree
On poetry.

As I flip my wrist
To look at my watch
I turn back to notice
That Ben has stopped.
He’s gazing amazed at
An open front door
That’s bustling with boozers
And music that soars.

“Let’s crash it!” Ben demands
Like the house party fascist that he is,
But I have to admit
That my state was somewhat ufit
To be called ‘responsibly sober.’
So with a heavy eyed grin
I say “OK, let’s go in”
And together we both wander over.

As we move through the ranks
Of the bodies that flank us,
Past the guy with a guitar,
That we could hear from afar,
And the girl who sits just there by the wall,
Twirls her hair whilst absently staring
Into a beer,

We stumble upon the kitchen.

Here the music is nearer
And after an hour passes,
Along with some clear glasses
Of spirits and wine,
We think we’re fine
But then, it suddenly hits me.

We’re crashers, I remember
And as if our agenda was destined to fail,
We would now have to bail,
As just when we make a mission
Out of appearing exempt from suspicion
As if by intuition, some bloke asks casually:

“So how do you guys know Dave then?”

Ben decides to aid by looking artfully away
Whilst scratching his *****,
So it seems to me
That the responsibility falls…
“Dave!” I say, looking absently away,
“We go way back make man,
Holidays in Cornwall and that,
Y’know, caravans?”

The bloke goes away,
Presumably in search
Of the mysterious Dave,
And so I turn to Ben and say “Go mate!
We’ve been made!”
We bolt for the door past the prep lads,
The muso and a chap on the floor,
Ben’s grabbing bottles and **** as he goes,
When I hear a voice ask aloud
“Hey Dave do you know those two?”

Hiding our faces we pick up the pace,
Pushing our way to a tidy escape.
We burst out the door and onto the street,
Finding it hard to stay firm on our feet.
Despite getting myself caught on the garden gate,
It has to be said,

Best party to date.
Oli Nejad Jan 2015
Let this poem take you
Back a while.
To a snow stabbed track,
Along stretching road.
Past a field of barbs,
Herding starving souls.
Oli Nejad Jan 2013
I fell out of the night
And in to the day.
Got up from the morning,
Struggled into the bathroom of afternoon.
Stared into the mirror of mid-day gone,
And shuffled down the stairwell into evening.

As I found a seat amidst the lonely aisles,

Settled into worry,
A look at the clock,
No sooner to realise,
I had fallen back into the night.
Oli Nejad Jan 2013
I was born on a belt
In the factory of man,
Rolled into a home,
Labeled and stamped.

My life was made honest
By ink on a page,
And my future controlled
By a system of wage.

My whole life thus far,
Two decades of lame,
Incompetent bureaucratic,
Institutional reign

Has seen us shuffled down
The educational lane,
Made unified products;
For unified gain.
Oli Nejad Dec 2012
A cigarette drips,
Between fingers and lip.
As the dark of December,

Hangs.
Oli Nejad Jan 2013
To recollect
Fluorescent childhood dreams:
A stuffed bear,
Clutched firm in hand
At the love-torn seams.
Oli Nejad Dec 2013
Even a scrooge,
In his castle keep,
A lone fire burning
While he drifts out to sleep,

Once wondered
In fright,
Amid the sundering night,
If he was worthy
Of either judgement or bribe.

— The End —