Oct 2018
Life is not a grassy maze
It is a cul de sac
Masked as a labyrinth
A rich tapestry of bitterness that promises Pandora
***** you in and then delivers
Nothing but bones
Misleading, all along
It is a tragedy,
This travesty
An infinite loop that bends you reticent and
Makes-of you- a fool
Nobody sees that I am forced to play monochrome
I try to make them see
Try to make them hear me
But do they see me?
Do they hear me?
Whichever guise I take
I am debased
My blueprints shrivelled
They tell me I’m no jazz musician and
That my graphic novel is a work of fiction
But God challenges me to be the best
That’s why he obstructs me
Wraps my voice in barb wire and makes me
Strive
Why he makes me stand on yellow pages
And like Icarus, reach for the sun
The burden of want strangles these lungs
Restricting me
Stapling my wings to the fringes
Forcing me to the less than I ought to be
Oh this omnibus !
I stroke the Queen’s Nose and want for Bernard’s Watch
And It only curdles,
This urge
To grab the map and wrap it in verse
Introduce colour to a puddle
And watch it blunted by the current
As I’m stuck running semicircles
Whilst the earth does a full turn
End
It is a cul de sac
Masked as a labyrinth
A rich tapestry of bitterness that promises Pandora
***** you in and then delivers
Nothing but bones
Misleading, all along
It is a tragedy,
This travesty
An infinite loop that bends you reticent and
Makes-of you- a fool
Nobody sees that I am forced to play monochrome
I try to make them see
Try to make them hear me
But do they see me?
Do they hear me?
Whichever guise I take
I am debased
My blueprints shrivelled
They tell me I’m no jazz musician and
That my graphic novel is a work of fiction
But God challenges me to be the best
That’s why he obstructs me
Wraps my voice in barb wire and makes me
Strive
Why he makes me stand on yellow pages
And like Icarus, reach for the sun
The burden of want strangles these lungs
Restricting me
Stapling my wings to the fringes
Forcing me to the less than I ought to be
Oh this omnibus !
I stroke the Queen’s Nose and want for Bernard’s Watch
And It only curdles,
This urge
To grab the map and wrap it in verse
Introduce colour to a puddle
And watch it blunted by the current
As I’m stuck running semicircles
Whilst the earth does a full turn
End
This poem was written with an acquaintance in mind. This person wants so much to be recognised as being a talented artist despite being completely barren of talent. In this poem, the protagonist has been told that they're no jazz musician and that their graphic novel is misconstrued as fiction. There is a hint of despair to the flow of this poem and I wanted to capture the pain and turmoil of what it must be like to want something so much only to have it brutally elude you for so long.
