Month: September 2017

#PoeticAnswers 76 – Can You Describe The Most Peaceful Moment You Ever Experienced?

It was the calm after a
Torrential downpour of depression
Which washed away my sensibilities.

It was after the storm in my head
Subsided into the choked whispers
Of voices who would leave me high and dry.

Nothing leading up to the moment was peaceful,
My body and brain fighting tooth and nail,
Fighting my will to not fight anymore,
My breath becoming a shallow imitation and
Turning into a desperate rasp,
My pulse frenetic and thrashing like a shark in a cage
Filled with a rage that fills it with a desire to survive.

Until the noose buckled.
And I crashed down with the weight
Of myself and the world
In slow motion.
A dark euphoria of
Pins and needles crawling like
Electric insects through my veins,
Tingling and tearing through my body.
My ears ringing like
The the sound of a thousand flatlines,
Loud enough to drown out the world.

In this moment,
There was no guiding light,
There was no distraction.
Just calm,
Just darkness,
Just perfect quiet.
Just reminders that
I am alive.

Question from Delaney A. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 75 – Voulez-vous couché avec moi ce coir?

Well, merci beaucoup for the offer,
But I’m afraid I must decline.
It’s not that I don’t find you attractive,
It’s just that I don’t have the time
Or money to make this worthwhile
For either of us.

Ma’am, look, I’m sorry,
But I’m afraid I’m not that way inclined.
I’m sure if you put in a little more effort,
I didn’t mean it like that, I swear you look fine,
Just go look for a straight man,
They’re not hard to find.

No, please don’t get your brother,
No, just, here, have some wine.
I’m not fucking with you, I’m just not fucking you,
I’m sorry for this but you’re wasting your time,
Stop fighting, I’m asexual,
Is that such a crime?

I got hit on by an escort in a nightclub once, they wouldn’t give up. It was awkward

#PoeticAnswers 74 – What Does A Hurricane Sound Like?

Like a tidal wave against a stone wall and the shatter of glass,

Unheard prayers on rooftops and in churches and in desperation.

The roar of crumbling concrete as it dissolves to dust.

The crying of parents of lost, dead or dying children.

Trees being ripped apart like pieces of paper and then engulfed in flame.

The shriek of a baby as she starves and doesn’t know why or who to blame.

Like an army of ghosts with nothing left.

And then nothing.

Deafening nothing.

In a place where the sea meets the tears of disaffected dead
In a wasteland of rubble and scrap metal where the earth and the air is still.

And no one cries for help because they lost their voices to panic and pain.
Just the gentle lapping of waves of polluted water and rain.

Giving way to nothing

Hundreds of thousands of people are currently affected by Hurricane Irma and the aftermath. Please, if you can, support these people and the charities that are working to help these people. For more information on how you can help, click here for a list of the charity organisations that you can donate to and support.

 

#PoeticAnswers 73 – When Was The Last Time You Realised You Were Happy?

My memory isn’t quite what it used to be,
It was never perfect because
Nothing ever is
Nothing ever was
I was never perfect.
I am still not perfect.

I am still the bespectacled spectacle of
Unkempt hair and perpetual clumsiness
That I was when I was small.
When I thought I knew it all and
I was the circus clown that didn’t care.
Blissfully ignorant and unaware of
Labels and diagnoses that would
Shake and shape my life.

It was a time when right and wrong
Was trial and error and
The only terror was make-believe monsters
In the closet and under my bed.
In a time where we talked to our friends
Rather than sending a text and being ignored instead and
People were just people and colour and gender was something we would accept.

I miss when coolness was measured in
Pokémon cards and personalities instead of
Drugs and alcohol and dodging STDs
And police cars.

It was a time before the internet.
Before external guilt started to
Carve my body with ideals and abuse.
Before my clothes, my hair, my body
Could be called right or wrong and
People hunted for reasons to
Drag us down to their level because
If they can’t be happy then neither should we.

Now, the trolls have moved out from the closet
And I’ve been forced to move in because
Freedom and expression are only for
Normal people and not circus clowns
Demoted to freak status because
They stood out from the crowd even though
They took steps both back and in.
Because society is a gang that
Only the cool and beautiful people are allowed in,
Like my friends.

My memory isn’t quite what it used to be,
And maybe at it wasn’t the best of times
All of the time but
It was when I was happy.
Because I could be me without
Punishment or discrimination.
It’s only just now that I’m beginning to realise
It was better than this.

Question from Madison N. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 72 – Do Amoebas Feel Love?

Love is a divisive subject
Especially for amoebas.
They won’t look for love,
There’s no personal ad saying
“Single cell organism
Seeks single cell organism
For walks in the park”.
But they feel loneliness,
Forever single
Feeling locked in a prison cell,
Feeling sorry for itself
But still never looking for love
Because, to them,
There is no single selling point
To incite, entice or incentivise
Them into trying to
Spice up their lives.
They want love without the effort
So they’re split down the middle
But ultimately,
The single cell organism
Needs to learn to love itself first.

Question from Michael Clark from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 71 – What Language Do You Want To Learn?

What Language Do You Want To Learn?

I want to learn the language of love,
But there’s no class I can take
That can teach me how I can say
Exactly how I feel about you.
I’ve learned that it’s more than just words
Because English, French, and Italian
Cannot begin to express what I need to say.
No Biology, Chemistry or Physics class
Can begin to explain what, how or why
I feel for you the way that I do.
I dont expect you to teach me
But I’m learning from you
A little more every day.

#PoeticAnswers 70 – How Are Sunglasses Made?

How Are Sunglasses Made?

I didn’t get my sunglasses overnight.
It took years for my vision to
Succumb to this degeneration
Which leaves me wearing sunglasses
Every day.
And every night.
And every waking moment.
You see,
It started as a smudge
That wouldn’t go away.
Like a permanent stain
Creeping and crawling to and from
My eyes and my brain.
Making everything a little
Grey and hazy,
Dangerously driving me crazy
Until it became a permanent mist,
A permanent state of grey
Blocking out the light with
Like a low level filter that was
Cutting the bright from my life.
Before descending into a circling storm,
Black clouds,
Heavy and dense,
Falling and crashing,
Like eyelids against the tide of midnight
Tainting my eyes with shadows of doubt
That can’t quite turn off the light.
Leaving me with this tinted view
Of life, of love, of the world
Through lenses Of black.

Question from Laura W. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 69 – Will I?

I won’t lose my dignity.
Even though everything is gone
And I’m left with just mistakes and chronic emptiness.
Even though I’ve sold my soul and guitar
For the sake of pipe dreams and smoke and mirrors.

I won’t lose my dignity.
Even though I’ve wound up alone
Except for the ghosts of the voicemail machine.
Even though my life has been repossessed
And I’m now in receipt of income and life support.

I won’t lose my dignity.
Even though my skin is so weak and discoloured
That I can’t recognise my own ethnicity.
Even though I’m sweating ice cold bullets
And my eyes are leaking like warm battery acid.

I won’t lose my dignity,
Even though I’m bound to this hospital bed
Like I’m in an unpayable life debt.
Even though I can’t hold my head high
But I know I can rely on this mountain of pillows to do it for me.

I won’t lose my dignity.
I’ve already lost so much.
I’ve lost my money.
I’ve lost my friends.
I’ve lost my mind.
I’ve lost my weight.
I’ve lost myself.
I’ve lost my will to be an addict.

I won’t lose my dignity.
Even though my grip
Is barely strong enough to hold a needle
Even though I’m here by force,
It’s only because I’ve forced myself to do this.

I won’t lose my dignity.
Even though I probably could or should
Because it would just make sense.

I won’t lose my dignity.
Because I won’t let it go.
Because I refuse to lose the one thing that’s keeping me strong.

Today’s question comes from Jonathan Larson’s ‘RENT’

#PoeticAnswers 68 – Are These Questions Getting Too Specific?

It is my worry
That the questions are lost in
Deep obscurity.

Abstract answers are
Coming from absurdity
Leave my readers lost.

Maybe tomorrow
Will be different and normal.
But probably not.

Question from Michael Clark from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 67 – What Is ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ Really About?

Is it a metaphor for consumerism.
Regarding how the mass-market
Attempts to force new products down our throats,
Attempts to show that everything is replaceable
Attempts to make the new seem better and you should invest,
Despite the fact that the rich and obscene
Don’t really know what the people want or need?

Is it about mass-production,
A biting commentary on how
Saturation and over production
Is creating defects that are fit for consumption
But human nature encourages us to
Frown upon change and throw
Valued necessities away like yesterday’s trash?

Is it about genetic modification,
And how the scientific society has
Grown and developed to try to replace
Nature’s gifts before we destroy them,
But humanity is resilient and doesn’t want to
Give up on their heritage and history because
We hate and fear change and require
Something to blame for human misgivings?

Or am I overthinking it too much,
And it’s just a children’s book for children
Filled with colours and rhymes
To survive all of time,
Acting as a generational catalyst for
New and young readers?

Or is it just an important statement
About not eating Kermit and Miss Piggy’s children?

Question from my comedy buddy, Konal