"capitalise" poems
How to start writing
How to keep writing
Write, write, write
Writing
Pick a subject for writing
Make sure you reference your writing
Write, write, write
Keep writing
This amount of words for writing
Plus or minus 100 word max leeway for writing
Write, write, write
Still writing
Quotes in your writing
Punctuation for writing
Write, write, write
Writing
Title for writing
Page numbers for writing
Underline, paragraph, CAPITALISE
Your writing
Margin your writing
Spell check your writing
Re write, research, rephrase
Your writing
Is this your writing?
Question your writing
Read
Hate
***** up
Start again
Your writing
Check your writing
Get a friend to check your writing
Panic, stress, just write
Your writing
****** writing
This will do, writing
Print, bind, hand in
Your writing
Write some more as you sign off your writing
Sigh
Feel sick
Crash
Sleep
Writing
Wait, wait, wait
Wait for someone to read your writing
Judge your writing
Mark your writing
Wait, wait, wait
Receive your writing
Read another's writing about your writing
Their writing, writing about your writing
To write whether the words in your writing are good writing
Therefore RIGHT writing
Or
Infact writing that ought not to have been written in the first place.
Now tell me
From this writing
And writing
And writing
And more writing
How do you write the words that you now want to be written?
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
On weekdays,
privatised ******* trucks
disguise our secret fascinations
and shift the scraps
of our failed dinners
into piles of decomposing waste.
Welcome to the city,
there are buses on the hour.
Better grab a seat before
coffee stained tattoos
covered by sweaty rags
absorb up all the loneliness.
Where do they all go to?
Who eats all the bludgeoned bodies?
Oh, book the saturated dinner table tonight.
I feel like saturation.
In the weekends, somatic mutations
reveal themselves, for if I,
speak, like, I can speak,
then I am not speaking to anyone
save for the flowers. Oh, so
hurray, the garden blossoms again!
But I mean, in the end, I maintain I am
writhing like a centipede in a dryer,
tumbling between hot air, screaming
“Help me! Help me! Where
has the humanity gone?
I cannot even capitalise
first names! You must forgive
my lack of morals!”
“Hello”
“I am here!”
“Hello?”
“I am here!”
“Hello!”
“I am here!”
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
We need to find a new space of revolution,
Beyond this place of pollution.
Democracy’s dying - the chambers of brick and bone can no longer hone the power effectively,
And besides, the mortars crumbling.
Grumbles echo between screens until the rumbles bubble then burst and tumble onto the streets,
but cries are few and weak.
The masses are meek.
‘To question the system is extreme’ media teams scream while they profit from the chaos and hide behind headlines.
The bourgeoisie sit comfortably as their bunkers are fortified,
Happy to capitalise on destruction and dramatise death.
Their crimes are discreet,
And steeped in deceit,
Yet they remain unburdened by the bodies that pile at their feet.
Why bother searching for answers when science is censored and senses are dulled?
They want us senseless,
Immune and desensitised to the countless lies and ecocide.
“Not our species, not our problem”
But it’s both and more.
Our streets,
Our future,
Our planet.
When will the lesson sink in?
When pollution is skin deep and soil bares only the spoils of war?
The climate crisis takes no prisoners, favours neither rich nor poor.
Your wealth can’t save you.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 5:25 PM UTC
In and of our singular truths
Peering through lustful eyes
We become things of paranoia
All the things we despise
We tend to hate mystery
Things we fail to understand
Constantly worry about status quo
Capitalise on supply and demand
Laugh at our brothers loss
Hoard up our pennies and dimes
Never lend a helping hand
To those in hard times
Hate our neighbor of color
Wish upon them a horrid demise
Then when karma calls
We stand wide-eyed in surprise
Kindness is considered weakness
Love, a sinful shame
If one doesn't fit the mold
Then by all means, slander their name
We may all believe differently
But yet we are the same
We each breathe in and out
And humanity is our name
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
He makes me want to write my sentences properly.
He makes me want to type my 'I's correctly.
Because of him, I shall capitalise the letter because to him, I am big and I am important.
I am worthy of being an 'I' in comparison to an 'i'.
Because of him, I want to write poetry that rhymes.
For he fits into my ink and it pulses through his veins, I can see through the surface of his skin and he belongs to me.
I want my sentences to accurately show
the rhythm and life that he inflicts on my own.
Because of him, I want my words to bounce with my heartbeat.
I am, I am, I am.
Because of him, I am no longer on borrowed time.
Because of him, I want write poems with anaphora.
Because he is the beginning of every thought, every line. Every second, every time.
His lines are repeated but he is fresh and new.
Because of him, I do not cower
*it is only when I am singing in the shower
that I remember the times
I would idly sit in the greying water
and imagine them walking in on my body
which would be as cold and lifeless as it was in the inside for so long*
But now, I see light
and no, it's not that light that you reach for because i - no I, am no longer longing for that desperate release of death.
Because of him, I no longer scratch my fingernails along the walls of the day
grasping onto it
and scared of the one to come.
Because of him, I eagerly await the sunrise counting down the amount of sleeps until I am sleeping in his security.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Everybody needs a *****
No thanks I can create on my own
My idiosyncratic thinking
Is bouncy as the suns atom
Looking for a reason to capitalise
On mind control apparatus
But read on please you
Can become my apprentice
Because this poetry can heal
Dimensions of the brain
A poetic analeptic that heals
When feeling down at heel
The bidirectional pulse wave
Of another person is not a desire
My encephalon is creative
Enough to excite you on the microwave
So adjust the frequency
Even try shortwave to find life
In space because this poet
Has no ***** dependency
My style is cramped with the BCI
Purloin’s my opportunity
To be unique in writing
Being a survivor & spry
The invasion of privacy is deplorable
Taking advantage of the poor you do
You have privacy so should I too
Reading people’s brain is irreconcilable
Don’t need two people to write a pen
I don’t want to be a ***** in the pig sty
And get ***** with other ranks of pigs
Every person’s brain is a personal den
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
Pupils dilate,
control capsized.
bring you
close enough
to fill more
than your eyes.
**** the literary pretence!
fulfil my lust.
Give me your
sweet recompense.
Each touch
and caress,
types pure feeling.
Sensations that
give words no meaning.
We write this act
upon the world.
With sounds of
animal grammar.
Time can wait,
well past sunrise.
Our stanzas
on our bodies;
as we sleep in
each others eyes.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
Is it natural to dislike a moth yet like a butterfly?
Mojito flavoured beer helps the spring birds sing
I'm sat yet floating in the last rays of spring sunshine
Remembering when I was yours and you were mine.
Memories gratify, whilst faults grate
Did you love me or the butterfly within?
I hear my scoff at this thought, I'm more moth you see
Butterflies capitalise on their pretty lies.
You fell for the pretty lies
You fell for the pretty wings
You fell for the notoriety being with a butterfly brings
You fell for the purposes of the accident report
So, I guess I dislike myself, since I am more moth
I froth at this revelation, come late this spring sun
Applesauce faults gloss over the fact that I the moth
Will morph into butterfly come summer.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
my heart is going to die!
NO! you belong with him!
wait, now hes dead, that changes everything!
Don't! not that ship!
I was sure it would sail!
The tears, OH! the tears!
no! no! no!
this is wrong!
you have to **** him!
he has all but ruined your life!
please!
NOOOOOOO!!!
THE SHOW IS OVER!
now i will have to face reality.
I use to many exclamation marks!
i forgot to capitalise so many things!
I, used CAPS LOCK!
and, worst of all, i dont know if i used correct punctuation.
why!?
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Advertise my soul,
capitalise from my sins.
Dig the earth for coal,
a market built for kings.
Suppress for your control,
fill your life with things.
Abolition of self-control,
a life attached to strings.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 3:31 AM UTC
I HAVE A *****
THOUGH IT'S QUITE SMALL
IT LIVES IN MY BRAIN
AS DEFINED BY FREUD
WHEN I THINK AT ALL
IT GETS SO *****
NOT A TENT
OR MULTI STOREY CARPARK
CAN KEEP MY SECRET
WOMEN DO NOT HAVE NAMES
WHO PLAYS ONLY GAMES?
iF WISDOM [ETHEREAL] DIED
WHO COULD MEASURE OUR SIGHS
WHEN WOMEN MELT
MEN PHOSPHOURESCENT
AND AFTERWARD
SAY
WHAT A HIGH TIDE
A MAN UNZIPS
TAKES A ****
THEN SKATES
A MAN URINATES
PLANTS A TREE
CHOPS IT DOWN
A MAN MAKES A DRINK
WOMAN THROWS UP IN THE SINK
TAKE A CARE
DESTROY DESPAIR
WHAT IS NAME
WHAT IS NAME
YES PLEASE
TAKE YOUR NAME
MULTIPLY BY THREE
DIVIDE BY 2.5
HAVE JIVE
DESTROY
CREATE
PROCREATE
RECREATE
CREATE AGAIN
WRONG
RIGHT LEFT
PUT YOUR SOCKS ON YOUR EARS
CAPITALISE ON FEARS
SELL YOUR SCENT
FOR DETERGERENT
WORDS WE CANNOT SPELL
RULE DAY TO DAY
THINGS WE CANNOT SMELL
RUN RUN AWAY
AWAY
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
If I owned any power i'd spend it in an instant
Every wish granted steals a speck of my soul
But with this blow
Preserve my purity please
Help me unsee the ******* sway of trees and
Settle down those birds in the dirt
Reverse the men who capitalise on my void
With dark magic toys of survival, made with some militant oil
Erase the permanent crease in my face when time serves worry
Wipe off the artificial laughter on them,
Cut off their hair and
Let us share it for our glad communion
Let me feel my own body
Without the ******* and reaching
Of wild flies at me like some flesh sun
Leave the well bitten life to run rampant and free
I have nothing to believe in now, but something beautiful like you, steal this suffering and
Give it to stillness instead
Have it grieve and breathe in
The future leaving,
Now, if only wishes
Made the world unbroken.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 11:04 PM UTC
Somedays I wrote words
but letters slipped away
lost beyond my grip
reaching and fetching
Somedays I wrote words
then shoved them away
uncased under the bed
searching and vexing
Somedays I wrote words
letting emotions prevail
as the cord strangled
levelling and curling
Somedays I wrote words
presented with numbers
joints of joy and peace
trespassing and pleading
Somedays I wrote words
as a moniker hiding phases
a face on my lost arms
materialising, internalising
Somedays I wrote words
of a deep reflective past
and a sickening existence
passing days, pressing mazes
Today I don't want to hide
neither compartmentalise
nor capitalise the future
It's all the now, the me
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC