Worlds Apart

WARNING! This poem contains extremely coarse language.

Wilted Rose

We live worlds apart.
I no longer miss you now.
It happened so gradually
That I didn’t fucking notice.

In recent times
There has been no communication from you.
You direct messages via our children.
How fucked up is that?

It’s a recipe for disaster
And communication breakdown
Leaving the children
To wear your wrath.

At a social event you said “Hello”
Then avoided me like the plague.
I have seen you once
In the past 18 months.

You have not set foot in my door
In countless years.
Am I going to bite you?
Or do some evil fucking deed?

No response
To phone calls, emails or texts.
I have decided to give up
Instead of continuing like a cunt.

Perhaps if I could get you your stash
I would become a star.
I did it for you years ago
But not now, my dear.

It all seems a bit juvenile.

You live like a hermit because of it.
Still in your fucking dressing gown at 4pm.
From all reports
Your mood varies depending on your stash.

I refuse to get back in your fucking good books this way.

Stay in your fucking house.
And make a cunt of yourself in private
Put up your front for work
And keep leaving me alone.

I don’t need to be treated like a cunt by you.

Perfectly Hiding

Hiding

Not enough time has gone by
Since you treated me badly.
But I can’t write a breakup poem
For it would bore you.

I have met nobody else
Nor am I looking.
Perhaps if somebody knocked on my door
I might consider a friendship.

Innocence is gone.
Lack of resposibility went with it.
I am no longer living somebody elses life
I am living my own.

All of a sudden I woke up an adult.
It totally sideswiped me
But do I have to take it seriously?
That is totally my decision.

Who was I once?
Why & what am I holding back?
I guess the laughter in love went away.
Maybe I’m still heartbroken. I doubt it.

The more successful you become
The smaller your life becomes.
How can people enjoy me
If I’m living a small, mad life?

Having said this
I would rather be around people
Who will say “No” to me.
Rather than mindlessly agree with me.

When the pressure is on
There’s further to fall.
Where have I gone?
I am perfectly hiding.

So Far Away

Aeroplane

I knew it wouldn’t be for long
But she’s so far away.
She’ll be back soon.
Not soon enough.

It has made me incredibly sad.
I can’t see her.
Hear her.
Even read her.

My only solace
Is knowing that
She is enjoying herself
& is in good company

It has only been a few days
But the nights have been long.
I miss our daily chats
More than I think she is aware.

Burning Toast

Toast

Talking walls.
There was a fine thing.
When they started talking
An all in brawl ensued.

I was straight out the talking door
Only to remember I left the toaster on.
I tried to get back in
But the doorknob broke.

I was trapped!
“Trapped!” I yelled to nobody.
Hang on. How could I be trapped
When I was outside?

I barged my way inside to rescue my toast
The housse was ablaze
How could it be?
The talking walls were made of brick

But the talking walls were cunning.
They rubbed themselves together around the toaster
To set it ablaze.
This in turn set the curtains & ceiling on fire.

I rescued my toast with barely a crumb to spare.
I rushed back outside with my toast and ate it.
“Well done, toast,” I said
Because it was indeed well done.

My Wandering Mind

Bob 50th

My father woke me up one morning
At 3am
He said, “I’ve never shot a tiger
And had to tell someone.”

The very next morning at 3am
My neighbour knocked on my door.
He was naked and asked,
“Do you know where there’s a good tailor?”

What would a small child rather hear?
A boring truth or an exciting lie?
Where does the darkness go
When you switch the light on?

I carry 3 pens in my jacket pocket.
People ask me if it’s excessive.
I agree with them.
“I’d like to buy 3 excessive pens please.”

I get ignored by my own echo.
What’s around the corner except more corners?
My sister has an extra-century perception.
Ask a stupid question, you’ll get a stupid answer.

I’m not particularly literate.
I come from a working class family.
Perhaps I should get to the bottom of this.
It appears that I have got to the bottom of this.

The Day Chuck Berry Died

Chuck Berry

I remember the day that Chuck Berry died.
It was a in March.
I was writing at the time
But was jolted back to reality

By the news that Chuck Berry had died.
I didn’t cry. I was too numb.
It didn’t seem real that he could be dead.
He was 90 years old and recording a new album.

Chuck bought rock & roll to the white man.

And with it he bought his cheeky showmanship.
He was one of the first musicians
To be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of fame

And rightly so.

His hits are too many to mention here
But we all know them.
It still hasnt registered that he’s gone
One day it will sink in

Chuck may be gone but his music will always be around.

The Secret Affair

Roses

I never believed in first sight
Until I saw her.
I was floored
And had to really try not to stare.

Within 3 days
We knew everything about each other.
Little did I know
That she thought the same about me.

The inevitable happened.
We had an affair.
It continues to this day
Under the guise of ‘shopping.’

She visits me for hours
Sometimes twice a week.
We laugh and love
For hours on end.

We know that it has to end some time

But not now.

You Are A Ghost

Ghost

We were married once
Many moons ago.
We agreed to remain friends
And we did.

Our children have left home
And you have changed.
You don’t answer my calls
While conversation seems an effort to you.

It took FOUR YEARS for you
To turn up unannounced
On one of your rare visits
Only wielding divorce papers.

You have not set foot in my house
For well over two years now.
Am I going to bite you?
Or do some evil deed?

I refuse to visit you.
You are a loose cannon
And I refuse to walk into your uncertainty.
You could be smiling or snarling.

Life is too short for such pettiness

You have become a ghost.
I don’t see you or think of you.
You have vanished
And I didn’t even feel a thing.

A Shooting Star

Shooting Star

I was sitting on my veranda.
It was 3am.
I was having a cigarette
Egulfed in the silence.

My eyes broke the silence
When I saw a shooting star.
My mind shattered the silence
When I started to think about it.

It came out of nowhere
And burned so brightly
As it made its way across the sky.
My mind began racing.

We are all but shooting stars.
Starting this world from nowhere
Then burning brightly
Before fading away.

Some of us burn brightly.
Some of us are barely seen.
Then there are those who don’t get noticed.
Some burn so brightly they light up the sky.

My shooting star went quietly on its way

By the time I had finished my cigarette
The shooting star had burnt out.
Leaving nothing in its trail.
Aren’t we all some type of shooting star?

Don’t we all fade away?

People Passing By

People

I watch people pass me by.
They just seem to come out of nowhere sometimes
And just pass me right on by.
Where does this leave me?

Sometimes they leave me wondering.
Who are these people?
Where are they going?
Where have they been?

Sometimes they have no effect on me at all
I care so little about them
That they may as well be invisible.
Sometimes I wish they were.