I bring out a bottle
I keep the ashtray close
I open the northern window
And let in the midnight breeze

A bud lit like a firefly
A lone light in a dark room
Beyond which urban neons
And streetlamps illume

Smoke rises over my head
Like a thought bubble
In a graphic novel
Pages untouched and unturned

The hour of monsters
The rest of humanity rests
While the night shift begins
For the thoughts in my head

Illusory sensations begin
Could it be the spirits?
Or conscious daydreaming
In the middle of the night?

I catch a glimpse
Of a pair of eyes
Hurrying away from the window
As soon as they met mine

My mind is tired
The ****** soothes,
The drink gives warmth
To the parched traveller inside

Cramps in my nerves
Pain in my bones
The bedroom beckons
Its 3AM. It's getting cold

I collapse on the sheets
My mind too dreary
To contemplate, once I sleep
What nightmares await me

I reckon I have resigned
To Fate, this grim Hell
Because I know Tonight
Is coming Tomorrow as well

Surprisingly.
I am surprisingly surprised
About things already surmised.
This dullness
And sameness,
The monotonous feeling
Not a thing new revealing,
All the same trials,
In familiar styles.

Surprisingly.
I am surprisingly surprised
Though not one thing has been disguised.
Broken hope,
Such a dope,
I just wanted to believe,
This time I’d get my reprieve,
But I was shocked when
Life fooled me again.

Surprisingly.
I am surprisingly surprised
That I still have not realized,
I have earned
What I’ve learned,
While predictability
Is not such a tragedy,
I smile to myself.
Life repeats itself.

Beautiful Woman

You met, and you were all woman
****, radiant and intriguing
He was ok and pushed the right buttons
You married him hoping for a forever

He filled you with children
They invaded your body and life
He stepped back wondering who you are
You tried harder to maintain your past

You both filled the void with logistics
Your bed is lukewarm at best
Time is a friend to no one
You lost your woman along the way

He got busy running through life
Slowly, fast you withered away
No shine or lustre left on your skin
You want to know where he’s been

Take a dive into yourself again
Remember how great you really are
Be defined by what makes you happy
The world will follow you, it always has

Find your woman and bring her out
You are more than a wife, a mother or whatever
Let the world see your bright light
Face their darkness and shout out loud

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Life is a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
a record scratch
Until the needle is lifted
and moved somewhere new

Like a puppet without strings
I lay there motionless
Drinking in the seething pool of
Nothing that surrounds me like
The caged dog that I am
Dehydrated of motivation
Deprived of any real semblance
That I am actually alive
Outside of this heartbeat
That is a ticking time bomb
Destined to go off before
I find any sort of lasting solace
Trapped in a box of possibilities
Dreams that are never meant to come true
Ashes in my mind of the lies I was told
About how I could do what I wanted
And instead my smile is stapled on
With the capricious optimism
That dies every single time
I open my eyes.

Life as poetry
Poetry as life:

A slow steady grind
Working stubbornly
Against monotony
And seizing
Those fleeting
Sparks of inspiration
Taking their wild ride
Wherever they lead
As the momentum
Carries us through
When we're back to the grind