Facebook poetry page

Send me yours if you have one too?

Untitled devlopment

And so we met
The first time in repetition
Hungered in backdrop
That it was in fact the last.
The saddest thing isn’t losing you
But losing you as a stranger,
The nearer your figure
The higher the pain.
I miss you in your presence
Like flames on my side
Dying is an instinct
That death wont serve.
To find you and lose you as one
Could dwarf all war,

Work in progress

I finally have my degree, it feels good to be free!


It’s bullshit that caterpillars get to just sleep in a cocoon and wake up attractive meanwhile I had to go through years of bad haircuts and poor fashion choices


inebriated with sobriety

There’s nothing I’d love more than
spinning through purple clouds
neck up on the mast of society
releasing me from the agony
gravity bequeathed when gravity betrayed,
or watch the moon in every passing face
walking amongst the lanugo grasses
of skins embrace,
There’s nothing I’d love more than
being a being and
seeing and seeing.
There’s nothing I hate more than choice.
To wake in one decay
or in another.


Some days my cheeks run empty
Billow hot air and incessant squeeks
Ripple as though in a gust set in slow motion
The clicking of vessels and strings amplified to nonesense.
There’s not often books written in babble
Or as quotes selected for quips,
But if an echo is what sets those pins back
Into a sliding curve of teeth,
I’ll be your pillow, your bedtime sounds.
The clatter of kitchens and nimble of keys,
Hear me as a note adrift your life
And i will engulf you in undertones of love.
Words without definition need not be meaningless.

The strength of dying

Love and despair shadow each other, a reoccurring numerical chain. When love is lit then despair is overcast, but before the sun shines a day its gaze illuminates another side and despair becomes the victor whilst love is cast in dark resemblance. What comes in the night is gasped by the moon and our willed perspective, when all is darkness, love and despair are equal in prospect and beauty falls to the eye who trusts it most. So when the days shine bright remember pain and passion are amplified by nature, but when the night falls on you the moon is only a lantern, it is you that deciphers the shadows from the monsters. It is you that must seeks faces in blindness. As seasons change and age defiles us, all is never the same, all is a game of senseless sense making and trusting in things we perceive yet have no reality in. Temporary are we, art, beauty, intelligence, fear, permanent is an abstract only useful to describe the past and its inability to change.


sext: love is the dead thing on the highway you can’t stop yourself from staring at. 

If Karl Pilkington's Quotes Were Motivational Posters

"If you can’t do it, don’t do it"

Nothing to give

I have nothing to give
I see the world transcending monotonous
righteousness achieved and far from notioned
I have nothing to give
nothing to starve or strive for
no compelling desire other than the one to stop
having nothing to give
but logic dictates me
and I obey.
I have nothing to give but these empty letters
empty struggles
that resolve in patience but unfold to
the use of more patience
limited by body and engulfed in mind.
I have nothing to give.
nothing to live for but my own extension of living.
yet I do try
and can only carry on
having nothing to give

until I have it

give it

and it’s gone.