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Kaput Koala May 2020
Souls and bodies scattered through
The universe, and its blues
Yet, within this multiverse of colours
All I saw was you.

Gave it all I had, I
laid my heart out on the table
Hoped you'd stay, I'd hoped you'd listen
So I, can't say I don't regret it now
For there's darkness all around
Swirling in smoky tangles,
While I potato the couch with pringles.

But our passion was just a fever dream
It shined the way this illusion gleamed
There was only your bleeding soul
Was just a trick, locked every door.

There was only the ****** night
The galaxy far beyond,
And the prettiest speckled lights
The day our hearts took flight
Twas the moment we said goodbye
Under the starlit sky.

Somedays we'll laugh remembering the days we cried
Others, we'll cry remembering the days we laughed.
I'm never writing one of these again.
Kaput Koala Feb 2020
A queue
It's a line, a metaphorical tool
Bores us to death, a long day's wait
In ways no mortal man can separate.
Fate, they say, is written in the stars,
A cuckoo's call, the chirp of a lark
A stark difference, all in black and white,
Inconquerable, try as you might.
But simply take, a child's delight
Keeps us up countless nights
Is there even a way to fight the fright?
Quizzically, queer, hop skip squirrel
Questing, querulous, Quirnius Quirrell
Try taking up a new language, then,
Foreign, unknown, rather strange to the taste
Asks a question, Q?, why really?
Frees writers' block, an emery.
Feet stuck deep, heavenly quagmire,
Warms us up, sparkling heat of a frozen fire,
Safe and sound, quandaries swimming in our minds.
Kaput Koala Nov 2018
It is really sad
And I feel really bad
That as I sit down to write
Something utterly witty, humorous and bright
Nothing comes into my mind -
There's absolutely nothing I can find!
I've no thoughts of any kind,
My feelings, they're all intertwined!
My mind's as dry and stale as rind.
My inspiration has run dry
There's nothing left for me to try
I can't help but oh, cry!
Perhaps there's soomething new,
Something that I can try to do,
Something that I can write about,
Apart from maybe parachutes and trout!
Should I shout?
Maybe I should wail out loud
Or maybe wear a thick, black shroud?
Either way, it has gotten rather infuriating,
To not be able to write anything.
But hey, now I've got something!
It's this poem - I wrote it without ever realizing
How my creativity's returned to me,
It's not as difficult as I thought it'd be!
Oh my! Oh my!
It's nothing!

— The End —