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Chris Slade Dec 2020
Arrested development,
life on hold.
Investment deterioration...
High Street trade goes cold.
Can we have our ball back mister?

Progress halted;
ambitions run dry.
Ineptitude personified
So up goes the cry…
Can we turn the clock back?
Lorry parks overrun,
trucking overspills,
paperwork’s not valid mate,
shortage at the tills.
Unemployment running rife... go on...
Can’t we just have another run at life?

Too many negatives
converging all at once.
Should’ve delayed departure
Covid, Brexit… Extend the talks!
Ineptitude • Handbrake turn before the exit?
No! This is like a yellow box so no!
Do not enter unless your exit’s clear!
Can we have our ball back mister?
Can we turn the clock back?
Can we have another run at life?

Too late goes up the cry… you’re disaffected.
Should’ve been better informed
by the people at the sharp end;
the people at the top…
Ever felt dejected... 1- 2 - 3 - 4...
take it from the top! No!
Can we have our ball back mister?
Can we turn the clock back?
Can we have another run at life?

Sorry say the throng…
we didn’t really mean them
to get it THIS bleeding wrong!
Politics again!
a  dominate
but combinable
girl shook
this tide
with a
shriek there
yet mossy
promenade kept
her suitable
as lie
only change
weather and
resulted this
grainy as
the voice
was prominent
with vicar
I get it
I believed
I thought
I suffered
for you
for us
for me
for my inability
to love you
again and again
I get it
that is not so
I
I am not inadequate
you
you do not love me
you
you want to possess me
your pride speaks
your cowardice
holds me to you
your selfishness
hidden by  layers
of mellifluous sensitivity
hits me
you
you want to hurt me
you do not even notice
what you say
you do not see
the bleeding gashes
you  keep leaving
on my skin
you do not feel
swollen and distorted scars
on my mind
on my heart
pains
you've inflicted to me
with your silences
with your absences
with your looks
with your words
empty and useless
and false
drawn with black ink
as the planned route
on a cold map
you see my pain
you see my insecurities
you see my guilt
and you walk to your way
heedless
you do not care
it’s been all about you
fake victim of the world
hidden
by a mask of dignity
papier-mâché made
glued with slime
script writing
for an ignorant audience
vacant and bigots faces
you speak
you do
you look
lies!
they’re all lies
black like  pitch
you pretend
you mislead
you are sneaky
with me
against me
I believed
I thought
I suffered
for you
for us
for me
for my inability
to love you
again and again
but I
I loved you
I fought
I gave
I kept quiet
I waited
gestures and words
that never arrived
I was
I was there
you could just have
to see me next to you
you've grown
our most beautiful rose
now
it is buried among the thorns
dry and withered
its scent
is consumed
in waiting wind
a persistent
moldy smell
into our  nostrils
I was alone
the only color
in a gray landscape
holding a watering can
without water
the fire has gone
no embers under the ashes
I get it
I am not bad
I am not inadequate
I am not inept
I'm not nonentity
I am
I must
I exist
now I Know ... who I am
Peter J Thomas Mar 2016
Whenever I use gadgets,

Afterwards I've often wept,

It's not that I'm emotional,

Just technically inept.
I wish this was pretend
I wish I didn't believe that I was destined
To die alone.
But mostly I wish I wasn't scared.
See paralyzing fear brought me to this moment
Dragging my limp heart along,
Bit by agonizing bit.
Lifeless. Loveless.
Heart.

I was never as inept at anything
As I was with
Love.
An embarrassment really,
Like an eight-year-old outfielder trying to catch a pop fly,
But instead of catching the ball,
I fumble it,
And now I've been kicking the ball,
Unable to pick it up
For years.

Perhaps it was the embarrassment,
That brought me to this point.
A point of no return.
The muddy banks of a Rubicon.
Waiting for me to choose
My final step,
In it's final battle with me.
Perhaps it was I who
Surrendered to it,
Too long ago.

Maybe there is someone out there
For me,
But they better be wearing
A flashing neon sign.
I'm not interested
In subtleties
Anymore.
So if you are out there,
Dress like a box of vibrant orchids.
So that even my colorblind eyes
Might see it to
Believe.

Blind belief is irrational, and
If the best predictor of future behavior is my past.
Then what should I expect
From myself now.
I've tried not to be convinced of false reality,
Ever since I learned the truth
About Christmas presents
When I was 7.
So, I wish this was pretend.
I wish I didn't believe that I was destined
To die alone.
Eazy Apr 2014
I feel a sense of emptiness
The kind that won't go away
The kind that'll eat you alive
The type that'll **** your drive
A feeling of ineptitude
That'll I'll never be able to shake
Eazy Mar 2014
I'm not what I seem to be
I'm a monster waiting to be unleashed
I wish to be the best for you
But something inside me gets the best
I want to appreciate you
And express my love
But I can't evade what's held over my head
I can't forget I can't forget I CANNOT forget
But I still desire you
I will still give you clues
That I am what you need
And even though
You nor I believe it
I will show you
What it can be
To find true love
And never expect it

— The End —