Saturday, 30 April 2011

A character study.

The man acted like a character in plays he rehearsed for. The child acted like a man.
So childish. He didn't really respect himself until he got help- even then it was hatred
of self that became a motivation to do something. I don't know. Maybe that's not true.
He just can't remember the laughs he's had along the way anymore. Only now.
Only now do things seem to fit. Fitted. There's a spanner that's been thrown into the works.
He's not talking-fuck the third person- I'm not going to talk about it.
but i feel like I have to. but i don't want my insecurities to get in the way of loving you.
At the end of the day everyone is fucked up. Everyone is a bit of a nob. You just have to find
someone that can accept how fucked up you are. Laugh at it and laugh with them and their (and your)
failings. And victories. Someone who's worth going through it with. I was told that a relationship is worth the compromise. That stood with me until i just wrote that and figured out that when you really love someone it isn't a compromise. It's everything you want. She- argh. No. To write about her would be wrong. To write poetry is to write about another moment gone. To romanticise the situation. If i said you were- no. No. I'm not talking about her (you? I know you're reading this. It's terrible ins't it. pretending like this a poem or something) I'm talking about love. But this is called character study. I don't think i wanted it to be about that. I don't know where I'm going with this.
every pause is because I've bitten my tongue in an attempt to stop myself from asking you what's going on. Where we're going with this. Dude that's not even it. I just want to kiss. I think we're a perfect fit. I really do and it's getting worse we're drifting away and I don't even need to write this I just need to say- i just need to take and i can see that you want me to- but swear to god it's only afterwards, when you go in for a second hug, or text for nothing when i wake up. I think about you too. I think about you a lot but I realise i've done actually nothing to move US forward. I've never called you to drink, to chat- the most I've done is say yes to every request you've thrown at me, running to you for the pure reason I know I'm within running distance from you. From you? The excuse is I don't want to hurt you like others have done. When you talk about being hurt when it came to step up or jump the hurdles they'd run from what could have become something special. Like- what if i did that? Like- have i forgot who i am? If there's one thing I've ever been it's loyal. I stuck with sega- when everyone had a playstation I rocked the saturn with pride, even when the dreamcast died stuck by it's side- I've been so loyal it usually results with me getting hurt. Weirdly I decide to sink in a ship that never had me as it's captain. So no that's not it. I think I've figured out why I'm writing this, it's to figure out and analyse every excuse i've made to stop myself from talking to you. the phone is right next to this laptop. Why don't I phone you? why don't we talk it out? Rejection I guess. If it's as simple as that.
Which in a lot of ways it is, if i go about it wrong I'll just ask you in this either don't give a fuck non-chalant or already defeated forlorn manner that will topple the planning altogether but that's a mind state that's bound to end everything in disaster- the perfect moments aren't planned, they're just.... moments when your'e in. The best kisses aren't at alters but train stations and bedrooms okay I've never been married i don't know if that's true but you get what I'm saying. You. Who? This is to me. In a year I'll put it up and i'll either laugh or hate myself by seeing how insecure i was. I thought you slept with a mutual friend last night. I don't mind if you did. of course i do. I love you. I love you.

Friday, 29 April 2011

Year two.

It's a feeling that's hard to hold onto like my thoughts
when i don't think or forget to think about anything else
my thoughts go to her and she becomes my dream
and for hours i basically sleep with us sleeping together
and to wake up without her becomes that extra bit harder-
however, i want to make this clear: this isn't a complaint
I'm happy to just know her, last year i was here but- out, there?
with dreams of fast cars with no path- now I'm aware- to an extent
i don't drink most days i think about how i blaze most days
i dream about web slinging through your hair, falling onto a cushion
i meant her hair. It's not a big deal. I still rhyme. but too scared
to take the mic is such a big deal while my train of thought
charges through like the one in inception, 
dead set on the same unreachable destination.
but, you know, it's not, like a thing or anything, it's cool
we're friends! it's cool, it's cool. it's just a thought. you get me?

Sunday, 24 April 2011

Loves soz.

You're a showbox filled
to the brim with mixed tapes
because you're loved from afar.
And loved in the dark.
And you'd freeze your heart
before seeing it break.

You're making me lose focus,
and in this confusion
I'm writing this list poem.
You're motivation to clean my flat.
You're making me wear new clothes
in the hope for more compliments,
You're the subject of internal monologues,
That i imagine are conversations.
You're smiling
and I pray your eyes open
and I pray you don't leave
too early in the morning
and I pray for small things
like hand holding,
like hand holding,
like, to be unapologetically
in love
like, to kiss while waiting for
the bus.
It's more a hope than a prayer
and I suppose it's a joke
how I'm a player.
yet you're a drawer filled to the brim
with final drafts
that I'm scared of letting go
because if you read them you'd know,
that you're all i think of.
and it's the one topic I don't broach
in our four hour long talks
and i kick myself for it
on my late night, lonesome
on my way home walks-
I stop because
I've been in this position before-
and it cut me raw
I was pumped with an anesthetic
that left me numb to the core.

It was then I started playing
playing to forget
playing to grow
playing to play
praying not to hope
the way i do.

If you're not a taker then
i guess i've met my maker
as when there's a girl i fancy
there's no qualm to play her
yet you came backstage
and gave me tips for rehearsal
it's not the bravado they want to see
it's not the performance you should show
it's now hard to treat you like my audience
and do what i wish in the knowledge
that my moves are cool enough to follow.
Because your tips led to my confessions
of secrets that exposed deep parts of my soul.
and if i could have not told you i would of
but when i look at you i talk and just cant' stop.
and then i leave and wonder why it doesn't start.

You're in love with a poem of mine
that i wrote in two thousand and nine
you're wanting that, performance,
every time.
and for you i can't help say it right,
every time.
but i can only say what i was saying
then for so long.
A part of me will always be heartbroken
but when i see you the same lyrics have
been remixed to a different tune.
and I'm almost scared to utter the words
I assumed would never come.
That... I'm ready to move on.
and I'll kiss you tonight till the day comes
and i pray you kiss me with your eyes open
and i hope for the small things
it's wishful thinking-
internal monologues
that i call conversations
and my head goes in circles
and in this poem i hoped
to at least feel consolation
from this ventilation but it's
not working because
us not moving forward isn't
just my problem.

You're stuck in a trap.
In need of self-esteem as bad as
i need my mojo back.
What's bad- thinking your faults
will take us backwards- as if your
temper isn't attractive- as if the mixed tapes
were made by accident. As if your love
for an old lover wasn't what initially
brought us together- Alan shearers
pens on the screen couldn't make it clearer.
You're running for the through ball
but telling me you can't shoot

And all I've talked about is how i need you.
I'm as london as london is me
So I've never felt a need to act tough
my recent defeat left me weak
and now it's like I can't apologise enough
That doesn't mean I'm not
aware of what I'm worth.
yet all i've thought of was how i needed you
expectation blocked my present view
it'd all be easier if you could see you
through my eyes, then there'd be
no problem with us seeing each other.

Just trust you.

What's good?

New friends that become close ones,
good friends that become someones
and Bridget Minamores poems.
Not getting worried when your round comes
Holding onto a loved one till the day comes and
both agreeing to stay in till the next one.
Having a brother in a friend, and knowing
he'll be at your side till you have no days left
and knowing we both feel that and keep it unsaid.
Sunday morning fry ups made by my mum for me.
Thursday morning fry ups made by me for my dad
Any time anyones made me a cup of tea.
Any time I've made myself a cup of tea.
Every cup of tea i have ever had.
Watching crappy tv as a family, getting engrossed into shit
shit music that allows you to turn your mind off.
Great music that pushes you into waking up.
Neil Young, and i wont say anyone else because
out of all my favourite artists he's the one that comes first.
What's good- hooking arms and holding hands.
noses nestled into hair, long talks with foot rubs,
being in a couple of collectives that mean the world to me
one in the business of writing poetry, the other a bunch of poets
who drink to having no money. For life.
Doing what i love, doing it for the love, doing it to get better
to the point where one day i can get paid for doing what i love.
To inspire someone to do what they want, and not just get paid.
watching misogynists performing pieces that think will get them laid.
being able to laugh when girls you like fancy those same men.
Every episode of sopranos, returning to over twenty notifications
Every issue of the amazing spider-man drawn by john romita jr.
being a person who people can see something in.
Being a close friend to a new one, and getting inspiration from
Bridget Minamores poems.

Thursday, 21 April 2011

Year one.

I drink- most days i drink most days- i blaze most days I
think too much about thinking too much i think about-
moving forward moving often going in the right direction
I'm more wide eyed in comparison with my generation
sleeps often we sleep and let moments begin to bleed
towards what we need a little more drink i drink most days
we're on the peripheral of the future we're going to/
too close to three times in a row the same goals become full circle
still i still move forward my legs pedal to a future where i can settle
for the biggest, baddest, buffest house slash girl slash car slash life
slash you get me!

Monday, 18 April 2011

I would have told you.

If we're being honest,
London is just another city
living in new yorks shadow
we want their skyscrapers
music, movies and ghetto

I'm not good at planning my sleeps.
I stay up, keep on till i collapse.
Get up, stay up and then repeat.
As if i stretch everything but my limbs
it doesn't make sense-
I'm a hare without ignorance
so how come when even at full speed
that turtle beats me to the finish?

Is it karma?
I'm in the desert, with no partner,
and am jealous, because,
they're on the same trip
but get replenished, with kisses.

If we're being honest,
I often question if
my dignity is worth it
and start a relationship
with a girl i don't really
like being with.
I'm already married to a city
that i don't really like living in.
At night i eat burger king,
watching american television
all day long it's neil young and joe budden-
to regress i guess i can be blinded by my vision/

I wonder if wise men wish for more wisdom.
Others are ahead of me but honestly I'm indifferent.
I complain only to liven the conversation.
My train of thought has no station- so the day i reach
the finish line is the day i reach a more astral destination.
On a mission to sprint through a marathon
I pay no attention to my competition.
Our maps have a alternate direction,
we look through different lenses.
I just need some friendship and guidance
instead of the fleeting meetings and fucks
I am grateful for but, like.
I wonder for how long I'm going to be doing the rounds
and if I don't like, them, what am i going towards?
I love my city but i know that i'll be loved abroad
but i know she needs mine more.

Sunday, 17 April 2011

lights please.

We're settled in,
in a way thats unsettling,
How it reminds me of a situation
that i keep thinking i've forgotten.
It's wanting the contradiction,
falling into the love you shouldn't let in
The sweetness has me weakened.
we're hammered to break barriers.
I don't know what we're doing
until we're doing it and then,
we tell each other to not do it again.
and again. And again. And again.
Honestly I'd do it forever if i could
but we never seem to go from
where we are to what becomes
in the topics of conversation.

It's part of the routine now, I suppose.
A few drinks to excuse our
actions, and when we get home I know
we're not going to kiss until
the lights are off and our eyes are closed.

I could be disposed of and replaced
in the dark and i wonder if you'd know.
I'm scared of asking in case it's true,
i freak out at the idea of being used-
every time. would you get it if i left?
am i more than a friend when in your bed?
is what I'm writing not to be questioned?
no one ever told me to live in the moment.
I break and analyse the situation
in a quest for atonement, fix what went wrong.
I've been too far gone for far too long,
We can't escape from playing to the same song
I'm deaf to every other musician and instrument
only you know how hard it is for me to get intimate.
step back though we both need to breathe for a minute.
I might fuck this up. But if we never went out,
how could we ever break up?
It's the spaces in between that define who we are
All i want to do is fill every crack in your broken heart.
my bed isn't kept empty, not when it has me.
It isn't kept pristine either, it has me ashamed when you come over
and i hate it when you say you have to leave
you've got my room cleaned, and sheets changed.
I guess I'm catching feelings, don't know how i caught them.
If i took them from someone else, maybe to "take" is the right route.
It seems to be what other dudes do, some people don't let lovers choose
I don't want to give you that choice because I know what you'd say.
So i'll order another round and avoid conversation on what we'll do,
When we can't believe that they've closed the tubes
and you'll stay over because there's no other route
and i'll take what i can because I'm in love with you.
I'll play any role in your life, whether as a friend or a man to use.
Not that i feel used. It's magic, what you do, i mean it feels good.
I just think i need some time away, i know that if you talked back right now.
It's exactly what you'd say. Step back young one. You need to breathe a minute.
I can't really complain though when I'm so close, it'd just, mean a lot
for you to take me as i am, not with the lights off, and your eyes closed.

Friday, 15 April 2011


I wasn't born a wall-flower or, 
But as times passed, 
I admit,
It's become harder to dance.
Not that I can't. I can. I used to. A lot.
and It's not that i forgot- it was blueprint two.
Alone in my room
"songs for the deaf" while on my paper route
(paper rout? paper route)
With my first weeks wages i upgraded
my tapes for a CD player
That skipped nearly every time i stepped
(which only resulted in me becoming
more light- footed)
And I'm not saying i was good
It was just being able to feel what i felt
I never knew you had to body-pop,
or try hard.
First time in company, i tried to dance
and ended up in a circle holding a pint glass
watching others watching others-
Humans conforming to the dancers rhythm
You could of blamed it on the crowd i was in
when i stood out i got beat down (figuratively)
I had to take my left feet out, shake it all off
and take my hokey pokey to a place where
my moves didn't get lost.
I met a girl
befriended others
became a stranger
and not necessarily in that order.
All I've really done is run from
one circle to another- 
and in-between songs
got in a slow dance
living out a fate
that's borderline cliched
playing the same part
in the same play
As an out of place player
in a game with people i hate
I would leave but I'm too afraid
Because nearly everyone i know
laughs at those who dance alone
and i wouldn't mind as much
if i hadn't actually found a connection
if i knew i matched with another's rhythm.

ice grill.

Expectation makes the heartbreak worse.
Build up the love only to watch the bubble burst.
It shoves you into a point of view you can't reverse.
I try to remember it makes you wiser, there's a gift
in this curse.
I put in the work to put change in her purse.
The cameras will catch a million women following
my hearse
and all I hope is that they bury me next to my first.

True story.

There's this girl who hangs on every word i say
and I can't lie, about her i act the exact same way
but we have so many mutual friends and jaded
concepts on relationships in our way, we'd have
to get really really really really drunk to make
anything more than verbal foreplay okay.
and awake the next day like "did- did we do that?
I can't believe it... no way... want to do it again?"

It's been so long since I've let someone else in,
I'm a little scared my depth has run into the pen
thoughts and secrets i thought I'd never tell anyone
have turned into confessions to anyone who's prepared to listen.
Dude. It's not all about the attention. I've just had enough
of keeping the countless number of regrets
of what i should have said in (me. it's not healthy)

So while this girl i like and i haven't got together yet
at least putting this down is a sign of progress
Or I'm just telling letting everyone in on a secret
apart from the one person who deserves to hear it?

get me.

Saturday, 2 April 2011

grown upper.

The confusion makes my heart pump,
or maybe it's the love, maybe it's not
and that's how the confusion actually starts.

I don't know where i stand with you
I know i want to stand next to you
because so far i haven't found it hard to

We're both on a similar route
and it's a chosen path
and it was was only for a friend,
you asked, for nothing but reached
I grabbed your hand- got submerged
in wisdom beyond comprehension
roles flipping and trading confession
for secret, they spilled onto the pages
not poems, still letters- still progression.
i never thought we'd get get to this level
that we'd get deep with that initial reach
that you'd be the new 'you' i talk of,
In poems that I'm scared to let go of.

(not caring shouldn't be this hard.

on a quest to forget my past),
I have to keep going forward,
even if i don't know what it's towards,
it's worse than i thought,
feeling better than i ever could of,
loving the one person who would be better off-
without, and I'm self-conscious with the put-out
scared to go past the make-out so i pull out,
just stay sat down, shut-out with arms crossed
don't get in, don't make love, so long since
I've been touched, born fuck-up couldn't admit
to being in love, wouldn't die before i evolved
guess i got into growing up, making up with
those pulling me down yet you saw me drown.
Submerged, and unearthed this rebirth-
that part of growing up is about feeling hurt
and to not admit you're lost just makes it worse.

I love again and I'm benefitted with this peripheral,
whether I'm "in" love or not is inconsequential,
I don't let the rain fall, I know what i can't control.