Clearing ivy,
pulling up handfuls of
choking bindweed,
uncovering delicate
wildflowers in
neglected garden corners,
and there’s this
tiny bird
lying in the dirt.
Feathers sparkle
pretty and golden,
as fairytale light
falls through
parted vines.
Surely dead,
but then
- like Snow White
surfacing from
magic apple-induced
dormancy -
the bird moves,
woken by the kiss
of sunlight and
being witnessed,
and seems to breathe.
A gloved finger’s
exploratory, leathery ****,
a moment to realise,
then disgust,
sharp recoil.
A wing lifts;
gleaming feathers
parting reveal the
crawling mechanics inside,
the writhing, parasitic mess
behind the sick illusion,
the briefly faked miracle
of something
like life.

Away over a fence,
Union bunting
***** erratic and jarring
in a neighbour’s garden.
In a stuffy town hall,
the town band is practising
God Save The Queen, but
still can’t keep time.
Our betters wave to us from
high palace balconies
and golden coaches, and we
cheer them for it.

There’s such hunger, such
pain and desperation out there,
you can feel it, if you
forget to stop yourself.
There’s so much tragedy and injustice,
you have to go numb or go crazy.
There’s no future we can see,
and the past has been rewritten
to reflect the views
of focus groups,
fascists and fantasists.

And there’s a bird
lying in the dirt,
garlanded by fragrant petals,
feathers flashing like jewels,
so dead
it looks like
it’s breathing.

To criticise others seems soothing as cool breeze
People say anything without a single heed.

Without aknowledging how their words might impact someone's life
They keep passing opinions with ungrateful pride.

Some are able to overcome these comments and try to move on in life
While some are demoralized and end up with commiting suicide.

People must know that its not an achievement to criticise someone at every point
Maybe that person is already going through a hectic life.

No-one knows what it would have cost him to reach at a specific point
And some unuseful words may leave a never-ening depression in his mind.

He might not be able to excel in any aspects of life henceforth
And might end up thinking his life nothing more than a unbearable load.

If you think of yourself in the shoes of the person you critice
Then you might understand that its not a thing of pride.

Years of hardwork, sacrifice and dedication comes to an end with some criticising words
And thats the point where we might lose one of our precious jewels on earth.

So lets stop critising someone just to put him down in life
Despite help him in overcoming difficulties and achieving great heights.

No-one knows how your small support can lighten up someone's darken soul
With such deeds we might end up being a true human as a whole.

The moonlight disappeared suddenly,
Took the darkness with her-
Who placed passion-flower in her ears,
With a uncomprehending smile,
With a cowardly step who came and stood in the corner of the square.

Silver moon,
That is painted only on the painter's canvas.
Under the bare wood apple tree, or on the edge of the cinnamon forest,
Is anyone waiting for someone?

With a weak argument,
What a tense memory to hold!
On the other hand, in earthen plate, the rice is poured with water
But the tailed dog plundered all,
And I stood under the darkness,
Recite Shakespeare's lyric.

Yet I don’t know why, but hear
The fasting street child continues to say,
"Give me a handful of food!"
I can't write poetry anymore.

The harbour: the quays


are like a flat sea, the ships --



are walls of iron.

"To be, or not to be" (William Shakespeare from Hamlet)
As it's been asked. I question the choice to choose or
Not to choose, in the fitting affairs of what would
You do in someone else's shoes (Walking their mile)

Place yourself in another;
The life of a sister or a brother. Racial barriers:
What are they, but one's blind hatred for another colour?
If you lived the life they do, how would their
Discrimination leave an affect on you?
When the same of the world, isn't the same in your
Sphere,– a harsh word said publicly neither sheds a tear.
But you identify yourself in the identity of what
You've been told; in a world where the new is just
A reincarnation of an old.

I guess,
The hate of back then is just a new,
Coming back around all over again. On repeat:
The hurt on ourselves; repeated on children's grandchildren.
High expectations we've set get so taller and taller,
While the worth of ourselves gets so belittled by a former.

What's change with yesterday's chains,
Shame that replaces a familiar name;
Those who don't give a **** are ******
In a nation under your nose; vaguely it understands.
What do you stand for on the stands of your life,
And who do stand with,– be it your God, your family
Your friends, a husband or a wife?

Be not kind in just for appearance and status.
Trade good from the bad given, the love you have
To dilute the hate. "I know they hate us,
But it was never the hate that created us"

It was love...

So to be, or not to be: Do you be the not
Of what they want be,– or rather not to be,
Of all the world's faults, that is the question.

Crashing aeroplanes inside the ocean,
all the blues of heaven skies will fall.
Grab your bathing suit, and best summer toes.
Open up yourself like a garden rose,
crimson red cheeks,
Shine as bright to warm up your cold nose.

Falling tears from high above the trees,
cools the earth along with the winds.
Catch your breaths to feel as free.
Hold your hands onto the things you need,
let it all out each time you breathe.

Past the square of circling seasons,
winter, and summer, joys of the morning
With all the Sun’s kisses, and brightened
reasons.

To live on, like the circling repeat of
your favourite yesterday’s song.
Stay as strong.

Whispers of strength heard in the softest ears,
comparing hurts with a taste of your tears.
Recognising familiar eyes,
all dealing with the same kind of fears.

Window frames filled with the echoes of the rain,
racing down the glass, two kids sit and laugh.
Taking time off their backs to sit and relax.

Pepsi by two for a dollar,
two ice cubes full, tucking away my love,
As she tucks down my fine collar.

Clothed in the finest of a day,
taking birthdays as just another day.
Before I’m close to the age of twenty eight,
gathering around a few friends and family, all
cheering, “hooray”

Crying in comfort when I’m gone,
For you won’t have to miss me for too long.
I’ll meet you all at the corner of a new dawn.

This is life.

Reading the Bible, when Jesus died
Each time I was feeling suicidal. Grab onto the rifle,
Feeling ****** in those cycles. Who am I though, in the
These staying thoughts, wondering where to go?

Reading a newspaper, to impress the daily
Struggles of my neighbour. Asking for a teaspoon of cooking
Oil as a favour. We all bleed the same, but act as if we’re
Not made from the same creator?

Reading the comments, the racial barriers,
Looking black, but I was told I belonged to the coloureds.
White tongue speaking, too seem a little different, yet
I wasn’t regardless. A garden of people, but why did it feel
Like we weren’t any part of those pretty flowers?

Reading the gimmicks, the fake prophets, and
All of those acting religious. Irreligious, eerie thoughts
Of those seeing their own hate as a witness. Can you believe
This, or are we the generations just to repeat this?

Reading up on the icon, believing one could be my
Saviour while they’re well gone. I could remember all
Of the lyrics of a trendy song. But not enough verses of
My Bible with the dust on. Would I rise less to Heaven by
The next dawn?

Reading the tears of years, I’ve got the tragedy of
Losses to former peers. Not in death, but feels like it
When we haven’t spoken in years. It’s clear we weren’t
Here for too long, to relate on our greatest fears.

So I’m just reading, reading, reading,
Never to stop reading all that I see.
I’ve read into so much matters of this crazy world,
My eyes at times bleed.

I read on...

Separated by progress
We live in isolation
Socially stagnated
Growing ever distant.

Focus further inward
Without hesitation,
Cutting off future conflicts
Before they even happen.

Perspective and reality
No longer separate
Echo chamber catalysts
Shattered-faction fragment.

Elitist tactics brainwash
Entire populations,
Localised abundance withers
With dying vegetation.

Doomsday clocks lurching
Our salvation diverges
Shouting to the twilight sun
We share but false elation.

Entire regions' designated
Means of production
No new doctrines allowed
All hail consumption.

Ever directionless, at a loss
Regressing into violence:
Revolutionaries' proudest
Of our failed revolutions.

Living out our dreams
Of solitary bliss,
Live alone in harmony
Or die in the abyss.

What piece of work is man
That chooses inhumanity
A species in a chasm
Led by mere savages.

respect: earned through suffering
no food no sleep no rest
worth: deemed by usefulness
idleness is useless is worthless

a cart of ideologies
hurtling down an infinite hill
pushing on to the next poor fools
who receive and continue

maybe I need to slow it down
throw myself in front and
bump
did that work

is one made a martyr
or just a conman, the easy way out
refusing to play the game
opt out of self sacrifice with self sacrifice