I want a beautiful ring from you.

With rare stones and diamond encrusted too.

Are flowers too much to ask?

Or maybe just chocolates, 'cos I might be moving too fast.

Emerging economies.

What they’re emerging from I don’t know.

My guess, the depths of hell.

From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.

A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.

To be forever under the thumb of remorse.



A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.

Shut up with all your platitudes.

I see what’s really going on. Aha!

You speak of sustainable development.

Nice to know that you’ve led by example.

Carried the mantle for all these years.



Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.

But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.

You never have. You just do.

Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.

Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,

it seems the wolves are lurking.



Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.

This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.

It’s scary to imagine such spite.

Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.

You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.

And each time, you kept coming back for more.



You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.

But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.

But what do I know?

Maybe you’re more alive than ever.

Doing what you do best but always more clever.

That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.



A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,

So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.  

Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.

Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.

Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.

An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.



Or maybe, the term is out of date.

Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.

In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.

Or maybe there are too many maybes’.

And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.

In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.

I’m everything and nothing

For where do I belong

Everywhere and nowhere


Life feels like death

To me, and it seems

Death feels like life


If only I could disappear

Gone from this earth

And slowly reappear, in hopes of a rebirth


To free myself from this pain

In a world of no disdain

With pleasure and infinite gain


This fickle life of endless monotony

I yearn to be free from;

To be in a world of transient diversity.


This skin that I love and hate,

In its real and abstract fate

Was once brown, now black to date.


It seems the winners are losing

In a backwards upside down world

Where the losers are winning.


If I could turn back the hands of time,

I’d go back to the year zeros

In hopes of a restart and some new heroes.


To take everything from the every ones;

Some Robin Hood type ****,

And give something to the no ones.

Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,

But they were very much conscious.



Loving every minute of vacation,

Thoroughly adventurous.



An act that seemed to revive not just their souls,

But every atom, cell and ***** in their bodies.



Lived for those nights huddled up in arms (Goals!)

Even though time just couldn’t care less.



Carelessly dashing by without regard (its new foes!)

Even as this act would lead to many more worries.



Fast forward now; and they craved it more than ever.

Would it happen again, or am I forever trapped in nevers?



Can’t handle the pressure, brain’s got a fever.

At this rate, gonna be swiping left and right forever.



Bones dry, deep down I crave love and connection.

Sorely waiting for those sparks to keep an *******.



More like an ***** sin.

Caught between a rock and a hard place.



A truth I once held close, feels like a lie I’m locked in

(I’m everything and nothing)

For where do I belong? Everywhere and nowhere



Except with my first love.

I long to meet someone like you.



Soft lips, beautiful eyes, luscious hair,

and a strong, gentle soul that softens the hearts of the hardest of men.

My dreams are made of kisses and cuddles

And nightmares of no Mrs and toddles

Reality is altered in a carbonated fizz

But I’m torturously lonely in this vivid whizz



A bizness man is what I dream to be

To be distracted from the love that you have for me

You claim to love me so dearly

But will you leave me one day seemingly seamlessly



I’m 28, but 18 seems so miles away

Thoughts of you got me feeling like (it was) yesterday

Only to live everyday like it was my last (to)day

With fingers crossed for dates on a Saturday



Waking up has me questioning

my existence and hopes of a better ‘morrow

With gold, myrrh, and some kissing in

To never have, and always yearn for more



I always dream for another me

One with love, respect, sense of dignity

Pushing me to a better me

Beyond the ‘mares, dreams, but in reality.