It's OK not to be inspired.
You can look at a sunset
Without seeing the colours as smudges of chalk
On the divine, stretched-out canvas of sky.
And you don't have to write everything down,
Because not everything has to be permanent.
Some things only last for as long as you remember them,
And it doesn't make them any less special
Just because they weren't written down or spoken life into.
Existing is art, and creating something
That no-one ever gets to hear is still art.
You're a poet even when you're not rushing to your notebook
Before the words fall through your fingers, slippery with desperation,
Motivation, inspiration for the next poem.
So slow down, because if you forget your masterpiece
Because you were enjoying a careless moment of misplaced inspiration,
Who cares? Even if no-one saw it, you know you created an awesome poem.

Monday
                 It has come to my attention, that someone has been stealing from
                 the communal fridge. I notice that my own personal milk with my
                 name on the bottle is half empty, also three fingers of my kitkat
                 are missing. Please refrain, or action will be taken.
Tuesday
                 It has come to my attention, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see
                 my milk has been topped up, though, why ******* of my
                 kitkat  in a V sign beggars belief. Just tasted my milk, you
                 ***** *******. I will now be monitoring the fridge from my office.
                 You will be caught.
Wednesday
                  
                   It has come to my attention, the camera monitoring the fridge
                   is now monitoring the ladies toilet. This is intolerable, you are
                   usurping my authority. Heads will roll. I will now be moving the
                   fridge into my office till further notice.
Thursday

                   It has come to my attention, my office has been penetrated,
                   the fridge is missing, and I find a ransom note on my desk.
                   I don’t know who you people think you're dealing with, but
                   let me leave you in no doubt, I will find out who you are, and
                   you will be dismissed.
Friday

                   It has come to my attention, a delivery of fifty fridges is
                   cluttering up the whole building, management is going
                   ballistic. I concede to your demands, please get rid of
                   them. Let us get back to you taking my milk and my biscuits,
                   my job, my life. Just leave me alone.
                                                                                    Thank you.

As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility
Of a premature passing that may present itself to me
I consider and calculate
Though my conclusion may be crude
That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food
I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture
Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters
I'd take them, temptation takes its toll
Curiosity for calories that I can't control
I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em
But by now I believe it's basically boredom
Not a necessity to nibble the nosh
It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh
No, I know there is no need
To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds
Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed
Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed
Choking on choices, trembling in my chair
Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear?
Selecting such seductive sweeties
Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes?
While I wonder and weep about what will win
My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin
Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat
'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat
Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling
So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling
Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it
But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.

i.
you wonder if somewhere there's a voodoo doll with your face stitched on
(and if it's covered in pins since god knows that would be the logical explanation)
who goes away in winter? he'd laughed and laughed
-- and in spite of yourself, you let him

you very patiently explain that with european winters
'the sun's still out but it's no cancer risk
and the air's still hot at night but it doesn't try to choke you
and what's more cathartic than a spanish caravan park where you're serenaded by crickets?'
playing it off as a quirk, not an excuse to be anywhere else

he'll never know the comfort in being
little more than a passing stranger
a face on a street or in a window or a car
transient, fleeting; the short-term memory lasts roughly thirty seconds
so you're a stranger in a yellow polo and then you're nobody:
it's the circle of life, but compact and mildly less terrifying

ii.
unexplored streets and brains are bigger than home:
you can only be your true self when you are not at home
eyerolling, rotting from air pollution and complaining about first-world problems
you're hardly ill at mind but you're jaded and sad and sufficiently middle-class
so when in doubt, you pack a bag and think nothing else of it

you buy the guardian and a kitkat from a sullen newsagent
whose hands look like your grandmother's
(why do you notice this stuff?)
the poor guy's only middle-aged surely - he can keep the change
counting coins is weird and confusing anyway

happy flying says the hostess with a ribbon around her neck
she means it and you know exactly why she'd taken the job on:
fixed addresses are awfully limiting
and the swarms of crying babies are probably worth it
to get to go everywhere EVERYWHERE

iii.
package holiday dj digs out his usual and plays 'come on eileen' for an aging crowd
your eyes are upturned to a foreign sky and you breathe warmth
the stars are out and you are floating quite carelessly at the top of a swimming pool

happy birthday

you constantly manipulate the game-you toss and turn and hit the ball in all crooked ways, you scream crazy **** and pierce my soul and degrade me to levels not even six feet under could reach.
i seem to let it slide like a baby on ice because believe it or not, the louder my voice, the quieter my soul. I hate the confrontation and i dont see the point of stirring the ***.
i let you run train tracks over my face and flatten my self esteem so quickly but i cant seem to cut you off for good like an umbilical cord to a newborn.

i say one thing to you, because after all, you are always so big about being up front and in your face, you ask us why we dont talk our problems out and let our pandoras box open.
well. we did
we didnt agree-and then you become a power outage shutdown so quick and at this point, im more like pepco instead of BGE-im not quick to turn you back on.
I dont look through the same lens as you, and yes i might not see the bright side-im no sunny side eggs but hey, you are no sunflower either.

i dont understand your doubles. dont touch me and not expect to be touched.
we are friends sure but at this point im not sure if we are seesawing on a not wanting to crack the egg or if we are friends at all.
you are now shut down and at this point im like pepco-not sure when i will try to turn you back on, you bop me around like an abusive parent on drugs-you are so sure that you are right.
im hardly ever right, and i own it but you, im not sure
i cant let you use your pass about your past to get out of jail no for we all, victims and criminals have to own our past. use it to walk forward not run backwards down a hill

i know i know, im a *****, a stuck up ***** with alot to say and yes-i throw the memory of a 19 year old guy performing a ***** on me at only 5 but to be honest thats no excuse either.
we all have hot pots that are quickly dropped because of the complexity of our journeys but its no excuse to shut down. and now writing this more and more, im figuring out that this is not just a letter to you but a letter to myself. you gotta own your advice before dispersing it.
if you need a break, have a break
everyone needs a kitkat bar sometimes
i totally understand

+murfyness
Sit back and relax as i hit you with a bumper Jack
ya rhymes is wack make like a match and strike
as ya set ya self on Fire
ya just need to retire take notes from the Sire
Master of this Craft ill stay in ya *** like Shaft
Serious glare and no Smiles ya Styles
nothin' but a pity beat you til you silly
Grimace lookin' muthaphukka talkin' loud and hard
like you this and that
but we know you sweet as a kitkat
i despise chitchat and emcees that think that
they got the Hype
and your right your hype and unsigned
for a reason but im leavin' emcees not breathin'
steppin' into the battle field watch me demise in less
than 1 second to go with is like eternity
no chance to escape hell in a cell
im the Undertaker
bury you alive with no remorse check my source
i been credited before i was credited
ya style edited
must be walkin' with water under ya feet
cuz ya slippin' set trippin' got a mack if ya start lippin'
slam ya harder than Kemp combined with Pippen
only shots ya takin' is jump shots
ya lil ***** boy who emulated the hood
wanna be heard so bad ??? but no good
shamin' this beat with ya Elementary Lingo
come up with to me is like a Mastiff to a Poodle
Droolin' i come with the Roughest
prepare for the Slayin'
Shut ya Trap so What cha Sayin????


Check the poetry im full of prodigy
Fantasy witha touch of reality
Who can write it better than me
By the time they catch me
Ill be in another dimension
Youll be in detention Once the skools on session
Pack wisdom like bullets in
A Smith n Wesson wait for ejection
Of rounds knocking out clowns
Before the bell of the first round
Round and round
Ya head goes cuz you couldn't comprehend my death blows
Slow ya role like going backwards
My poetry and skills are mastered
No witches or board crafts
Are made here everything i made came from front to rear
Nope i dont have no fear i know the spirits is here
Good vs Evil you choose with sides
You wanna reside
Is it sell my soul and let my heart grow cold
Or stand with fire n let my soul glow
Against the evils that be
In the sneaky industry
Dusty raps get slapped back
My guns be aim at?
These devils trying to sell me out
So **** all that poise and noise
Cuz i aint down with slayin'
Peace to the rebels like me
So what u sayin???

I've got some cheese and onion crisps
Half a packet of strawberry bonbons
And a kitkat that might have got wet on Crinkle Crags

I can't remember
the last time I saw my grandma
Or recall ever towering above her delicate, motherly body telling her I love her.

"It wouldn't have been the same without you"
"No, it wouldn't"
"In many ways"

I wonder what my dad meant by that
He likes to talk
And say nothing at all.

Man on the train furiously widens his eyes
At the piles of suitcases spewing from the rack
And curls his lips

Keith pouts like donald trump
So do I
Maybe it's genetic

I've got my grandma's genes too
She doesn't mind if I pout like donald trump
But she never liked bruce forsyth (who died last week)

Or maybe
The week before
"I've been watching strictly"

My older brother
Pulls out of the suffocating tar pit
Something nonflammable

I wonder what he meant by it
He likes to talk
He likes to say what matters

But what matters to him
And what matters to me
Isn't what matters to him

I've got a quarter of a packet of strawberry bon bons
And a kit kat that might have got wet on Cringle Crags

I carried a lady's suitcase
Over the bridge and
Back when the platform changed

She rewarded me
With information about herself
And I am grateful for that

She helped me
As simply and easily as I helped her
She gave me a smile to keep

What mattered to her,
Funny Welsh stranger,
Mattered to me
We swapped smiles
And walked off in brand new shoes.

Summer, when we still had our milk teeth
Calling to me like that long lost friend
Instant crush on seeing that bar of KitKat
While waiting in line to see Harry Potter
The magic hidden in Grandma's kitchen
And the countless memories of her youth
Fall, bringing us back to the classrooms
And making the summer a part of the past

oh, i'm coming, like a mongrel mongol.

what's the post scriptum of rhetoric?
   um... 100°C (+1)?
yup...
   the threshold of when
talk turns into action...
   mind you: i really do fancy
a cupp'ah;
by the way, adding
milk to tea isn't an english
"thing",
the whole practice originated
in siberia...
    so... yeah...
***** ******* queen
victoria silly;
   have about ten on my count
of accommodating hands
with fingers;
apparently index + middle + ring
fingers = the *kitkat of *******;
or asking for an orange to come out.

Love isn’t always romantic

Sometimes love is playing the song you know
will make the person in the passenger seat
smile just a little bit bigger

Sometimes love is staying up all night
waiting for each new text to come
that says they made it another couple minutes

Sometimes love is letting them have the last piece
of grandma’s special recipe

Sometimes love is reading the book
someone mentioned in passing is their favorite
so that you can have a reason to talk to them again

Sometimes love is telling them your secret
maybe the one you told a few
or the one you only told your heart

Sometimes love is letting the brother you swear is annoying
sleep in your room when he doesn’t want to be alone in the dark

Sometimes love is a showering with the lights off
so you can love yourself without fear

Sometimes love is sharing the jokes you hear
and think they would like

Sometimes love is memorizing your best friend’s schedule
so you know when they are free before you ask
because you know they hate to have to say no

Sometimes love is pushing them away
because you know they deserve better

Sometimes love is smiling when they steal a fry
and rather than calling them out
you steal some of theirs

Sometimes love is seeing a pair of heart shaped sunglasses
and immediately thinking it is totally their style

Sometimes love is waving
at the people in the car next to you on the freeway
at the little kid who asked you for a sucker at work
at your friends in the hall you don’t have class with this semester

Sometimes love is offering to order for them
when their anxiety becomes too much

Sometimes love is putting yourself first
you can’t help others if you are in a million scattered pieces

Sometimes love is sitting in the make shift audience in your aunt’s basement
watching your family put on a concert of toy drums
and jumping up when they pull you on the stage of cardboard boxes

Sometimes love is inside jokes from years ago
you aren’t even sure how to explain anymore
but get you on the floor each and every time

Sometimes love is not holding back
introducing yourself
giving people the chance to be someone to love

Sometimes love is holding their hand
as they get their third piercing
even though they are terrified of needles

Sometimes love is a teddy bear
given from family to the newborn

Sometimes love is walking them down the isle
with a kiss on their forehead

Sometimes love is noticing the words and topics that trigger them
and when they are used
watch for the signs

Sometimes love is watching the children
while the parents take a break

Sometimes love is getting a kitkat from the gas station
when you go by yourself
because they are your brother’s favorite

Love isn’t always romantic
Love isn’t always mind-numbing passion

Sometimes love is the small things
the things you learn
the way you adapt to each person
the protectiveness you give

Love isn’t always romantic
But it's how I love

The human heart is a world of its own
Access into it is one of the hardest things I know
The inhabitants hardly come out as well
And when they do, they disguise most times

They have a veil of sweet words
Often give you a different impression
It would take proper examination
To see the main intention

If you can take an aerial view of most hearts
It's darker than KitKat
Please when you find a pure heart
Give it the respect it deserves!

Taking a break
no KitKat just
man chat.

Mainly talking to the apple tree
a thing of great beauty and it seems
to listen to me,

Someone said, crab apples lend their ears to everyone, I'm okay with that and the trees okay with man chat and all that.

Symbiosis whatever that means.

But you do find along the way that you can if you wish make someone's day and they can also if they wish make yours.

This week I'm out of doors
out of cigarettes too
but
I'll get through this
I always do.

How far is, before too long?
funny really, because I always thought that
too long was a specialist tea like Souchong,
these are the mistakes I have made and will make,
time for a break? have a catnip, kitnap, ah! Kitkat,
see what I mean about mistakes.