Poetry | Stories | Photography
Street signs tell you,
movies show you,
songs encourage you.
Be part of the community,
individuality is not in keeping with this country,
the collective is connected; one is none.
Introverts hide in plain sight,
struggling through the nihilistic dystopian days,
gathering the strength to destroy it all.
nature’s cute carpet
standing in the numbing cold
a winterish night
Disconnected from your shell,
rising above the place you love.
The world vibrates with different energies;
the colours and the shapes seem so vivid.
Shackled to your flesh no more,
you soar into the immortal realm.
A foreigner at the train station,
living within a radical quiet skin.
Too tall for discount shoes,
too solid for little clothes.
“Looking down on me!” they
walk past and impolitely say.
There is no other way for you
are shorter than me, grumpy.
The mask covers the mood.
Tired and burnt out. No one could give me the strength to move my body from the chair, yet you have that power.
Once the kettle boils, you go into my cup.
My sweet teabag, I love you so much. I might dunk you in the water just a few more times.
Thank you to everyone who reads my words. I write every day, yet I do not get to post everything I write.
I stumbled upon #TastyPoems on Twitter. Darla Vaughan has provided so much inspiration for my words through the lovely art that I must share both.
The poems are from 2018 until the present; some themes may be from the past.
I hope you get inspired too.
A sorrowful day
for the
straggly failures.
Once fertile land
the farmer
orders a clearing.
Slice by the Scythe
they fall towards
the over-farmed land.
Lovely eyes
so full of light
A soft heart
alive at night
By the Winter moon
within clouded starlight
Do not go too soon
dancing in the moonlight
Beautiful flower
a charmer of the night
Womanly power
take me into the light
watching the last colours
grey, mauve, dirty white
distant layers of lost coral
disconnected in the dark
the tip of my nose feels cold
a quiet feeling at five pm
the coral layers are no more
between twilight and the night
my whole nose is cold now
Our idyllic country.
Towering stone walls threaten to stop the moon from shining, yet we want for nothing.
Each morning we chant, “All belongs to all, all move in one direction, all unite to thank our utopia”.
Our idyllic country was built on the blood and bones of lies.
C & K 