doesn’t matter

it’s the fact that
every last one of

you

thinks we shouldn’t
and that’s where
you’re wrong

give us an alternative
that will raise the bar
that high
that fast
from that little

you can’t

i don't blame you for not trying

the thoughtlessness pushes them forward
an empty musical order
they go tranced with no former
with no sense of horror
nowhere and onward
transfixed tortured
bleak of notes
cornered
tundra

Adult Alternative Poem

not for the young, reserved just for the young, just at heart,
your skin, face, crinkled, for smiling is you resting face positivity,
you daily existence free of punctuation, no separation,
your body tilted, falling forward, only direction the chest understands

your words sewn on tapestry of silence, yet voices never stilled,
fingertips spark on command when touch is earnest, casual, fierce,
Bublé, Sting, Daughtry, Allison and Adele, ****** tears commingling,
read her your love poetry & her chest breathing, your oxygen tube

easy to be an adult when the alternatives are all
proximity discoverable, nearness constant, distance an irrelevancy,
age just another construct and love, an ageless deconstruction+
unfinished reconstruction, adult alternative channel, our only playlist

the door creeks


"Ah, I've been waiting it for weeks."


"It's surely the Reaper, the final undertaker."


waiting for nothing


"Maybe, he has another job. The door creeked, but he sent one of his helldog to do the job."


the void avoids my thoughts


"Hellhound or a fluffy bunny, stop me feeling so moody."


"Somebody, take my thoughts and take me voice. Not to feel more sore."


waiting


creeking

I met someone today
With cute black clothes
And a long trench coat
We walked to the park
To sit on the swings
We talked as we watched
All the cars in the street
She told me all her stories
Of almost being arrested
For smoking ****
So why does every cute girl
And every edgy guy
Have to get high
And listen to MCR
Where are my preppy goths
My ****** band members
Because I'm just a punk
Who doesn't do drugs
And wants some friends
My parents won't hate

In an ulternative univrrse
The hojo
Clan and there evil ninja
Fuma, have taken control
Of Japan after the defeat of the
Tokugawa
In the seige
Of odawara castle
Thus darkness and chaos continues
In japan

An anchor weighs upon my chest
applying pressure above my left breast,
crushing it down to create a concave,
I wave off EMT, there’s nothing left to save.
It was only hope that I’d keep going,
but I truly see no reason why,
I was cursed with the gift of knowing
I could only expect to just get by.
I think I’d rather die.

With a voice just like a symphony
and your hands were my favourite vice,
the gentle way that they held onto me,
thank god your body made them twice.
It was only hope to keep the memory,
as that’s the reason why,
I can look back at the past tenderly,
but sometimes I wish it was a lie.
Maybe it’s just the view of my eye.

Arms like home and lips like heaven
I found a shooting star at eleven-eleven.
But I stopped wishing.
Distanced by the strong will of the walls,
I see you in the streets, pubs and shopping malls.
But I stopped wishing, keep on fishing till life calls.

In a way you did assist
though you do not know it,
as happiness; it killed the poet.
It was only hope that I’d keep growing,
but I can see no reason why,
as soon the clouds will be snowing
when I crave the rain from the sky.
I will settle for the wind that’s blowing
to cover up my disappointed sigh,
if I must be cold I guess it’s best I’m dry.

Now I don’t know what you want from me
or even what you are expecting,
as I don’t know if I’m good enough to deliver
‘cause where I feel a stab I only portray a sliver.
It was only hope that I’d keep flowing
and I’d find a reason why,
the ancient embers continue glowing,
the flames will return and be twice as high.
Making me a firefly.

A reflection is shadow made of light.
I look at myself. “Who you trying to fight?“

You know he’s crooked cause his head is cocked.
It’s rebellion.
His past is in flames, he’s a hellion.
That’s why he don’t hear what they be tellin him.
He hears his own music.
He let’s it in, he grooves it.
It flows through his body when he moves it.
You can always be happy if you choose it.
Listen to the dope beats
and keep a couple close to your throne seat.
It’s emotion in wave form. There is no rawer art
or rarer reward. For if you truly listen
changes will start in the you-est you.

I was shocked too but I swear, it’s true.
All sorts of things will change you, if you let them.