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Panda Boy Nov 2017
I want to see a grown man cry.
Mother doesn’t approve of a psychology course.
Hatred to swallow only to erupt again.
To see all sides of that person
But no one knew.

You can grow like a tree;
Tall and strong,
Old and wise,
But a tree doesn’t go anywhere.
Alpha and Omega,
The vastness of space.
Your life will come to an end;
Don’t let it go to waste.

I give you a smile;
Genuine warmth.
Look at those around you,
Must you curse them?
Instead love them.

A needle can sew,
But it can also *****.
Use that wisely,
Be gentle I say,
Put it to good use.
reel it in. look at it. get it out.
Panda Boy Nov 2017
Well it’s been seven years,
Fighting fire with firewood.
How could you begin to face
These ice cold tears
Of which drift upwards?

Just give it some time to waste.
Roll onto my bed
As the crew cycles through the night.
Unwilling adults never
Cease to amaze brick walls.

Let her come by some day
So friends can hear the doves better.
Nobody said this was okay,
But please know
At least I want you to stay
With us.
Panda Boy Sep 2017

   A pink rose.


  Distant piano.


  Cassette tapes.

  City nights.

   A cheap cigarette.

   Three white stripes.

    Couple of camera flashes.

    Wearing a face mask.

    A spontaneously special moment.
Panda Boy Oct 2017






sad and true
Panda Boy Oct 2017
We met at a beautiful park bench;
“Hello.” I said,
“It's really good to see you!”
“Hey.” she said.

“How are you?
How has your day been?
Did you have a good weekend?”
I asked.
“Yeah, I did." she answered.

“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I'm fine.” she replied.
“Good.” I said.
There was silence for a moment.

“How are you?” She asked.
“I feel great.” I said.
“Good.” she said.

We went to buy a drink;
“What do you want?” I asked her.
She said “Just water.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, I don't mind”

Ultimately, I was glad.
Meeting this girl
Some reassurance
To last year’s me.
the girl was as boring as this poem
Panda Boy Sep 2017
Nowadays, is this a world for poetry?
Anyway, I suppose there couldn’t be.
And this may seem like a promotion
But I assure you people
It feels more like slow motion.

If you were to write poetry,
Say now.
What would you write about,
And more importantly, how?
This audience of children
Surely cannot understand
They couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Well the reason I write
Is because my voice cannot sing
Nor rap or any other popular thing,
But back then it was great
To write a verse, a perfect stanza
For the Greek meaning of ‘poetry’
Is to merely create.
So I do ask this generation
My most important question;
Why wait?
It saddens me to see so much youth being consumed by meaningless things with minimal effort. This is my response/plea.
Panda Boy Nov 2017
The way a man can be herself
As the eyes and mouth
Twitch in a silent breeze.

He starts with a lukewarm
Ginger beer and the
Local newspaper
Or black coffee and low opinions
Whilst listening to the bird
Morning song.

Yet, he could be listening to you
On the radio.
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