Grotesque Originality

I can’t make a painting ooze with emotion

I can’t make words pour like honey into your ears

I can’t make musical notes work together in communion

But

I can watch others

I watch them love

I watch them create

I watch them live

And I copy

I copy everything they do

I steal and crop parts I like

And stick them together

Showing myself off as an original

When to be honest

I don’t think I really have a self

A Million of Me

Press your head against my chest

Drunkedly half-assed dancing

To teenage angst-filled songs

With lyrics that only we think we get

 

I’ll hold you and kiss you

Just like millions of others

Right at this moment

 

A million versions of me

In alternate universes

Maybe they’re holding you

Maybe they’re holding another

But what we all feel

Holding our woman

It’s like a cold wave

Flooding our scorched brains

The steam lets off a hiss

Blinding us for a while

In a haze of pink

And when it fades

We all gaze into a face

That simply makes our hearts soar

Pity or Envy

A street full of petty faces

Eyes without colour

Hands without warmth

Their footing is awkward

And they don’t know where they are going

They just follow the person in front

And hope for the best

 

They are ideal citizens

If not for the fact they do not work

I don’t know whether to pity them or envy them

My body and soul belongs to a business

But theirs runs free in the streets

 

If only they knew where they were going

The Creature of the Trench

He walks over the top of the muddy trench

The stench of gunpowder, mud and rot

Pervades his nose

The voices around him

Build a slow, steady crescendo

Piercing screams

Wailing and crying

Are all added to the orchestra

 

The man walks steadily on

His feet, moist

Most likely webbed by now

A creature of the trench

 

The crescendo is building

Louder and louder

The man slips on the mud

Falling and entangling himself

In a web of barbed wire

A small fly, helplessly caught

 

Men of both sides wander the field, aimlessly

Cloaked in a pale white

The bullets go straight through them

 

The crescendo is coming to an end

A german machine gun nest has spotted the fly

The crescendo reaches the climax

All the men in white are watching

The fly has been shot repeatedly by the spiders

The bullets thud like a drum

Against the chest of the Englishman

A Deep Tranquil Blue

A path of bright stars appears in front of me

Leading to a dark sky

A night that will never end

A darkness that will forever be still

 

I follow it

until the stars beneath my feet

Burn out and fall to black

 

My thoughts turn from

Alarming Green

To worried yellow

To angry red

Until I reach a peaceful blue

 

A deep peaceful blue that lingers

Ringing sofly in my mind

until it falls and dissipates

Into the night

 

I slowly melt into black

Now that my mind has given way

I melt into what we were

And what we are always meant to be

The Fire

I have a fire flickering deep inside of myself

Spitting embers indiscriminately

Onto those I love

And those I hate

Burning all it touches

 

Those that are true to me

Stay not only for the warmth

But also endure the burns

 

Sometimes I let the fire die down to ash

To see who’s still there

Even when the warmth is fading

And the fire is dead

Heart in hands

I hold my heart out to the biting wind

A wheezing, mass of flesh

Pulsing weakly

Coughing blood at my palms

 

The longer I hold it out

The more the elements work their magic

The vultures circle above me and my heart

They can smell things that we can only feel

 

I stand there motionless

Staring at my heart

Waiting for it to say something