Turoa

Turoa Feb 2019

One step forward
Followed by another
Losing sight of an end
Given time
The destination
Doesn't matter

Never have two words
Been simpler
Or meant more
Than those from someone who cares
Who's always been there
Standing, waiting
Holding a door.

..Stop running

Turoa Feb 2019

Venting

I've taken up writing as a means of venting

But what is written, lasts

Outliving even the author

And so we'd immortalize our fears

Anger hate and pain

Darkest of moments alive and well

The form of words writing their name

I can't say how many lines I've written

Then erased

Or torn from pages

Like wine poured over a broken glass

Sometimes there is nothing left to gain

Certain tortured lines should never be written

By innocent eyes

They should never be read

Some marks however sincere

Can only scar or stain

To all of you poets who vent,
A lot of the things I read are so negative.. It's raw, it's real, it's passionate but there must be something more. I can't judge, we all have varying degrees of suffering, but just don't let that be all that defines you.
Sincerely,
Some guy sitting in front of an old laptop at 0019,
someone who does give a ****.

Turoa Feb 2019

S235 123

Step out of the light
And wait, adjust
It’s harsh at the start

But you'll never see
The innumerable stars
Until you've completely surrenderd
Your eyes to the dark

S235 123, is a location. It's my place I go when I need peace. If you step out and are willing to stop to sit a while, look up, the way the stars unfurl themselves is beautiful.

Turoa Feb 2019

No rules

Why do I write poetry,
It's a question I ask myself.
I'm a bit out dated,
A worn spine on the shelf.
I'm not writing for anyone,
Nor a book just anyone should read.
But why write?
I wonder
What is it to me?
I could write dreams,
Dabble
Try fantasy,
Or horror stories,
Survival, adventure,
Are natural to me.

But a person can't be defined by one piece, or another.
Perhaps that's what I enjoy
In verses
These verses in ink..
The languages and their structures
Are shattered,
Every rule by the wayside
And something new
Steps forward.
Something real,
Unique as a new day,
Something
Only you
Could ever
Say.

To hell with the rules

Turoa Feb 2019

Life in a word

There’s something to be said about words.
They scribble and etch their way across every aspect of our daily lives.

They are considered the means of our enlightened state,
our prison,
the limits we’ve set for ourselves.
We etch them on our buildings walls, into our bodies and souls. Perhaps to feel what can't be expressed in
Words.

We quite literally, set the terms for our lives and our selves.
An endless world of sensations,
clipped,
limited,
by the words we use to define them.

Turoa Dec 2018

Reflection

What is a fortified castle secure, beautiful.
What is a prison.
What is liberating, freedom at it's finest.
What is torture.
What is a shield, impenetrable to all who would do you harm.
What is thin as paper.
What is solid as stone, iron in resolve.
What is delicate as porcelain.
What is safe.
What is a levee, preserving the safety of others.
What is graceful, full of hope.
What is cruel, full of deceit.
What is kind, generous breathing life into to all.
What is parasitic.
What is the man one strives to become.
What is a facade.
What is angelic.
What is ******.
What is the dream of a dreamer.
What is a lie.
What is real.
What is false.
What is a question,
Who is my reflection.
Which of these is my mask?

Turoa Dec 2018

People ..kinda ****

What makes a man superior to the land the birds or his fellow kin?
We are self proclaimed gods walking the earth yet our actions say
We might as well be,
Little more than an upright
Walking
Two-legged

disease on display.