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#uni
My brother is soon leaving for Linz And we're going with him For a week I feel his absence already in my home With his suitcases on the floor And talk of pillows, shoes and medicine And all the things he'll need away from here But I fear What he needs most we can't provide Across rivers and lakes And cities and storms Smiles are hard to deliver The warmth from home Easily will fall in a pit of despair Stumbling over its metaphorical feet My brother is soon leaving for Linz And his toothbrush next to the sink That's always annoyingly there Will forever be missed A ghost plate on the table With a forgotten fork by its side Shall be placed infront of his chair That's tucked into place Always cold, always sticky with the residue of his presence When the line cuts off the silence will be Twice as loud as his voice But at least i would've heard about His first days at uni And the parties he went to, The friends he made My brother is soon leaving for Linz And Im happy for him Even though (Or precisely because) He'll be thrown In the unknown
0
Nov 1, 2025
Nov 1, 2025 at 5:18 AM UTC
Absence
Gaze at me, with you ever-so-slight smudged lipstick Pop-punk lyrics issuing from your perfect mouth Dark circles from the khôl and folly Forgiveness from your youth Torsion of perfection into a wry smile Sober, you say, drunk, who'll walk upon my style? Who'll dare? I dare, in laying bare, ballet hands, The contents of my ***** You know, friends, I may be an actress, and pretentious, But my ability to lie's contentious.
0
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 6:44 AM UTC
Reflections in the mirror
If I were to bottle this it would be Fleeting moments of such deep joy it’s hard to recollect the moments of utter misery, Of which there were more. It would be bitter loneliness without the sweet tang of friends, The ache of realising alienation isn’t about being alone. It would be waves Crashing into rocks after washing over us Curling our ankles on pebbles Tripping but running headfirst anyway Toes in the sea. It would smell like sun cream With the coarseness of sand Salt and sun and summer. It would sound like jazz time on a friday afternoon Blues, show tunes and improv. Empty balconies, Wind Leaves LMTs Conversions I listen into but don’t join. Thunderous silence. It’s white walls awash with laughter, Paint fumes and flying Fresh puddles Stifled tears The longing for something more.
0
Feb 18, 2022
Feb 18, 2022 at 8:11 PM UTC
An Ode to Cardiff
I walk through a ghost town where I’m never alone, kicking empty cider cans across the road, whispering secrets to the stale, morning air where my life, at a standstill, hangs over the beat of a single heart and a single large Eye, watching, always watching, judging my footsteps as I cross the path, to a flatland, between the forest and the streams of music playing in my ears - there's a spring in my step this cold winter. Even though I don’t see the sun until it’s too late, I dance, like the dead, poison in my veins, because I’m free from my grave. I’m free from monochrome soil - draped in a bright pink dress, I kiss the days away with a warm hand in mine, and a stolen, back-washed bottle in the other. I skip on the pavement, rocking back and forth to high notes and drum rolls, where I find myself moving between friends and pages, collared sweatshirts and daydreams. I whisper my moments of happiness to the North Wind and hope it travels South, down to you, down home, where you’ll hear of my vices and understand everything.
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Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
Camp
So much to study and here I am writing poems for you, instead
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Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 7:02 PM UTC
exam season
Coming up Reminds me of University... Waiting for the high to hit Never enough Never as good As last time. The new discovery An addiction To new discoveries. Never satisfied In that All-too-comfortable Bubble
0
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC
University
It’s been a year since I typed some lines, probably cuz it’s stuff like this, I want to get laid and i want to get ****** but instead all I feel is sick Kedgeree thats tumbled dried from 38 minutes of bad Elvis hips, while legs pop like rockets my eyes sink in my sockets saliva swells in my cheeks as I drift in disappointment swimming in icy air to catch my confidence lost at sea but its too far gone, so i just stare at a laptops glare thinking about my spots my unstyled bramble of hair my polo, too garish? MY SPACK BRAIN! too confident in thinking I looked smart? as i wish for another heart one thing sticks in my mind a girl, or was it a boy, looking like Johnny Rotten, in Westwood striped dungarees and flames of hair flashes of the Public Image, King Krule and all that in my headphones. Words that are all in my head as my stomach is sick oh yeah, they played the killers I like them now my head is bleak like Mike Skinner I wish I’d chosen earlier to have my dinner another music reference lost on you but stuck in my mind in bed as I picture a red head oh my.
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Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC
Silent at the Disco
College is A peaceful mind Because it's years And years Of nonthinking Thought Free of judgement And greatly At a price Often bought
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Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
UNI
i have not quite learned, to love, or lose, or myself "these will be the best years of your life" echo in my mind over the sounds of my gasps for air, in between tears- sometimes from laughter, sometimes, more often, from loss, or perspective of it. pretending "yes i love it" "yes i'm having a good time" is not convincing me the only person, important in my own happiness; the hero of my emotions learning to say no, stop, over now learning to contain a shout, a judge, a scream not quite, but a little bit the [best] two years of my life have now so suddenly received a forecast of much rain and clouds always on the brink of hail.
0
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
the last two years
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall," you say. Would you? Would you really like to be privy to all that drama and intrigue, without ever being noticed? Sounds nice, I suppose. But I'll let you in on a little secret- That, my dears, is false advertising. Truth is, people always notice flies They just choose to ignore them And lower their voices when you buzz by on sugar-spun wings of self-confidence- Maybe it's just all in your head Maybe you've misinterpreted things-behind kaleidoscope eyes It always looks like there are more of them than you. So you gain confidence You hover on the fringes of their circle And drone out a low hum of 'what've you been up to today?' Or 'how're you?' Or 'long day, huh?' The response is offhand A verbal flick of the wrist Batting the ball back into your conversational court Because coming at you with a fly swatter Or a rolled up Cosmo magazine Takes more effort than they're willing to give. You buzz about some more Hoping maybe the silence will entice them to engage But no, They can't hear your buzzing Or they won't. So instead you stand Fly on the wall Content with watching the light catch your wings Repeatedly wringing your hands near your face In a way they probably think is malevolent I promise I'm not plotting- I'm just juggling the weight of my loneliness Maybe if I shift it from one palm to another Somehow I will lighten the load. Take comfort in this, little fly- The sun makes your wings iridescent And even though they'll never get close enough to see that, you can. It's not a trick of the light Your fractal eyes do not deceive you- They are duplicate.
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
Fly on the Wall
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall," you say. Would you? Would you really like to be privy to all that drama and intrigue, without ever being noticed? Sounds nice, I suppose. But I'll let you in on a little secret- That, my dears, is false advertising. Truth is, people always notice flies They just choose to ignore them And lower their voices when you buzz by on sugar-spun wings of self-confidence- Maybe it's just all in your head Maybe you've misinterpreted things-behind kaleidoscope eyes It always looks like there are more of them than you. So you gain confidence You hover on the fringes of their circle And drone out a low hum of 'what've you been up to today?' Or 'how're you?' Or 'long day, huh?' The response is offhand A verbal flick of the wrist Batting the ball back into your conversational court Because coming at you with a fly swatter Or a rolled up Cosmo magazine Takes more effort than they're willing to give. You buzz about some more Hoping maybe the silence will entice them to engage But no, They can't hear your buzzing Or they won't. So instead you stand Fly on the wall Content with watching the light catch your wings Repeatedly wringing your hands near your face In a way they probably think is malevolent I promise I'm not plotting- I'm just juggling the weight of my loneliness Maybe if I shift it from one palm to another Somehow I will lighten the load. Take comfort in this, little fly- The sun makes your wings iridescent And even though they'll never get close enough to see that, you can. It's not a trick of the light Your fractal eyes do not deceive you- They are duplicate.
Continue reading...
44
I read about death and violence I proof read, and top up and eject and print and scan and hand in and sometimes I get full marks. Mark. Marks Marks on the body. Mark my words. (Mark my work.) Karl ************* Marx The communist who launched a thousand memes. My oh my. // The necropolitical is like a funnel a filter, a sieve. Like baking, only you didn't forget to put the oven on and people are inside the oven and so are you. It's not like with the toaster when ur mum tells u to scrap the black crumbs into the drain. It's not like you can unburn the burnt. Oh and the skin grafts? There's a waiting list for that. The waiting list? There's a form for you to get on that. The forms? You need to print them out. The printer? OUT OF ORDER. Buy your own. OUT OF STOCK. Your bank balance? FUNDS INSUFFICIENT. Your bank? Sorry you have reached us out of outside of our operating hours. Outside Outside of our Outside of our operating of our operating hours operating hours and hours and hours and hours Thanks for holding! A representative will be with you shortly... [Dave Dobbyn music continues playing through the phone]
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 2:48 AM UTC
Beuracrabbit Hole
I've crawled off to die in a cowards shoe. The culmination of my efforts. A disheveled shape held together with glue. What push do I have left? When I've spent all I have. My last quarter in the gum ball machine of life. Looking around at all the others who've given up. Is it my time? - considering the strife. Uni projects really take it out of you...
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
No Shame
Its raining its pouring, Facebook is boring
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
My first poem
of my life have been leading up to this. The decision to go wasn't about you, Wasn't about leaving or forcing a rift, I'm sorry I've 'robbed' you of every timid kiss I've given you at midnight when I can't tell if you're angry or sad or just tired of my life being intertwined with yours I'm sorry I've taken away every sentence I'd have used to reassure you that I'm not bored with the Silence which brings calm And yes, I'm truly sorry that I can't feel your arm around my shoulders When I feel like your compliments have become loaded boulders that intend to hurt I'm terrified every time I think of you looking like Kurt Because silence is now loaded like a gun It's not such 'teenage fun' when I imagine every last knife that you own, isn't happy when I wait for the moan on the inbox that'll let me know you've survived Will let me know you're still alive and haven't left me forever. You're bones feel lighter than feathers when you forget to eat, the unsteady beat of your heart is a part of my own Please, don't leave me alone. You blame me, but you've framed me with a crime that is yours. I'm sorry I've missed every kiss, hug and snore But if I'd stayed I would have hated you Because you'd have robbed me of my life, in favour of your own. Don't leave me alone, because you blame me for the silence Let me roam If I come back, we'll be stronger. And, while I'm gone, remember that I still belong to you.
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
The last 8 years
We were wild and eager in the cold, Wanting to explore Life lived by each minute- Shot- We wanted more and more. And these are the nights remembered, in September And we were told to enjoy them, remember, September You have just one chance, Don’t you know that child Drink, smoke and dance, Don’t care,   Go wild Have no regrets, you shouldn’t care, Please that’s what they say But we feel pain, tears pour like rain When we wake up the next day But those are the nights remembered, in September Force yourself, enjoy them, Those nights, In September Go insane and feel no pain They don’t know what to say, When you wake up and look around At the hurt caused the next day
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
Those Nights in September
WOW SUCH ESSAY MUCH WRITE MANY CAPITALS CAFFEINE
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
WOW