poets
will make you see heartache in beauty
and love in disaster
they will make you feel
you will stare into a sunset
and feel your heart break
but grin and giggle
at the pouring down rain

s.s

she was a riptide
the kind of disaster you can’t see
but once you're pulled in
oh god, you can’t get out
she was a crooked smile
a terrible laugh
too much of this,
too little of that
she was a mess
but she was golden
an 11:11 wish
you’d later regret
chaos in a quiet package
something that is
better to forget
she was something to fall for
until you realise
all she does is fall
she is a mess
and always will be
her lungs are filled with panic
and her veins laced with turmoil

s.s

If you ever live in this Hell,
Remember how fragile freedom really is
Remember how hopes can make you hurt

If you ever live in this Hell,
You'll see misery in every corner
as well as people running to get to the nearest border

If you ever live in this Hell,
Your  frequent words will be dollars, food, emptiness
Your frequent thought will be "when all of this will see an end?"

If you ever live in this Hell,
Remember that no one will never be safe
So you better start running away

If you ever live in this Hell,
You'll be a ghost in the middle of empty streets
You'll be another cow under the suffocating sun

If you ever live in this Hell,
The struggle of surviving will be skin deep
All you wish is you're living a bad dream while you sleep

If you ever live in a Hell,
You'll see how fragile freedom actually is
and that's when you'll appreciate any piece of it

People always talk about being a perfect match
But nobody ever talks about how abruptly matches burn out

The ground beneath trembles in fear
as people realise the attack is near.
No time to pack they run towards land
fear in their eyes, a child in each hand.

The ocean drags back revealing the reef
while onlookers watch in disbelief.
A wall of white horses gallop ashore,
eager to destroy what was there before.

Screams drowned out by the roar of the beast,
charging ahead, hungry to feast.
The wave reaches out with a cold heavy hand
and snatches the palm trees from the sand.

This hand born by the stomach of the sea,
bulked by plates, coughed out, set free.
A bully of a giant fed with dread,
a tall curved spine and white froth on its head.

As the wave devours the town,
its once blue belly turns murky brown.
The further it travels the more it hunches,
snatching rooftops and throwing punches.

Where the wave passed through a carpet now lies,
lingering devastation and distant cries.
Amongst lost lives bodies are found,
homes destroyed, spirits drowned.

You hear about me,
you wait for me,
you prepare for me below,
while I sit silently and brew in the heavens above.
Innocently I start as scattered clouds smudged across the sky,
as I calmly exhale over the land.
But with each breath I fill up with frustration.
Frustration turns to anger,
anger becomes rage,
and before you know it a tantrum is born.
I batter,
I consume,
I cough out my rage.
I strip your trees bare and scream at your cat,
howling with laughter at the mess I have made.
I charge through the streets
stealing life to strengthen my own.
Tears are washed away with salted rain
you think your pain
will make me stop?
Bodies of trees lie across the roads,
hollow shells of used-to-be homes
poke their heads from the water,
scared to see the damage I have caused.
Exhaling once more I return to the sky
where I will sit and sulk
but never die.