Beware of people

who cheer you along the way –


like vanes in the wind.

I've reached a fork in the road and its time to decide. There's no clear path. My way is blinded by a light.

The decisions I make, I must stand by and at the side. Strong and tall in the fact that I chose the way with my inner guide.

Is this the ending you had in your mind? When the fork came and forced you to decide.

Was the fork created in your thought riddled mind? Was the journey one on which you could abide?

Or could you have stayed in the grey and stood aside?

The decisions you must make are they on your path or in your mind?

That is the true dilemma on which you must decide.

Work? Still permitted.
If you’re still employed, that is.
Your windows are grey?
Just paint another rainbow.
Clap again if you fancy

how did we start,
equating hope to silly?
the fallacy of optimism,
contrasted by the truth of pessimism,
confused as realism, facts
sent by a goal of ataraxia
(unachievable)

supported by leadership position
(unaccessible)

tinted of eudaimonia
(indefinible)
and the loss of getting ahead
at what cost?
do you tear down
others' hope
with your glance,
fuelled by your own
cowardly manner,
afraid of losing
what you never had,
walks around telling others they won't miss it?

they say i’m *****, i swear that i’m not
i never touched a feet before
or felt a japanese tongue

its more about the overall tone of it
i keep telling them
the dirtier you write
the cleaner the soul

I stand here today:
The mayor of this broken town;
The president you needed;
The one to lead us home.

Except today, you sit.
You do not feel joyous.
You do not believe.
You have fallen, clutching for dear life.

Tomorrow, I think, will be more.
Lustrous I am, at the thought:
Of my own words;
Of my own promises.

Give to you what I plan for me,
Giving back what I did not take.
Tomorrow, you will have more than today,
You will have more than you could ever dream.

Realism was never my strong point.
I stand here full of dreams.
I stand here with less than you need.
But I stand here.

Because yesterday was the worst of all.
Yesterday broke us.
Yesterday took a piece of us with it,
Took more than we can replace.

You sit quietly, teasing the words from my mouth.
It is you I stand here for.
Your soulless eyes waiting,
For me, for more.

i hold no rose-tinted illusions
of how my life will write itself
i'm not a rose or a daydream
no, not as intoxicating or sweet
i am not warm sunshine and
i can't paint you blue skies
my tongue isn't honey and
my conscience isn't pure
i am none of the things you could call pretty or demure
no, i am the smell of old crinkly books,
dusty and lingering
i am anti-depressants and beat poetry
empty cups of tea and crumbs from a cookie
i am grey mornings when it's too cold
to leave the covers, the slow sting of *** burning in your throat
i am a Del Rey track and perhaps a Taylor Swift one too
do not compare me to a summer's day
i am neither "lovely" nor "temperate"
i am the sum of every shortcoming
and every strength
of every smile i've given a stranger
and every filthy insult too
i won't tell you to take me as i am
because i'm not here for you to take
no, what i say is
don't call me a rose
and forget that roses wither
and have thorns too.

Under the table, no one
gets in the way with giant shoes
my world can exist there –
until dinner

the houses, roads and construction projects
with all the thoughts of the people
I can read and answer –
with new plans

In the summer there are tables in the garden
with clips on the long cloths
swaying in the light of the wind –
my tent after dinner

which was small and dark at first
full of adults' legs
but cheerful with their voices –
my other world

I stroke the dry grass
clear ways for the ants
and breathe the strange air –
of roses and sweat