Energy Saver

My heart is an energy saving bulb

which initiates as a small dim light,

radiating progressively hotter

until it's passionately burning bright.

But the transition is far too hasty

and the energy still seems to keep.

It still glows softly when I turn it off,

just enough to distract me from sleep.

I plan to replace my bulb with a candle
which can be blown out if feelings flicker

and my wax can melt into your soft skin

gaining and losing its light much quicker.

I hate how my light loiters and lingers

when the switch is servant to my fingers.

Hearts that Hanker for Hankering

I've been too concerned in making others smile

without any regards for myself.

The gratification is there for a while

but it's detrimental to my long term health.

Because sometimes a smile can soon sour

and I can't stand to see a saddened face.

Whilst I try everything in my power,

it's hard to put your smile in its rightful place.

If I paid more attention to my mouth

I'd notice mine's in more need of turning

with the tear-soaked corners pointed south,

trembling in some fruitless yearning.

I forced a smile when your sadness receded...

I don't want to be loved, just to be needed.

#NoCigar

Close, but no cigar...

another year down the drain

with nothing to show.

#Wisdom

The seasoned old fool

has enough wisdom to know

he will never learn.

Hairspray

I've been getting high off fumes from your hairspray

when your head rests upon my collarbone.

I can feel my sleep skull start to sway

whilst my thoughts turn to when we're all alone.

I've tried washing your hair before we sleep

and every strand still stands in perfect place,

so if it's not products making the form keep

then why does my heart continue to race?

I blame my giddy head on the gases

because I am scared about how I feel

but when the lingering scent passes

I'm left holding on to something very real.

I've become lost in a firm holding mist

and the crown of your head just screams to be kissed.

The Road of Rewards

I would rather blunder over boulders

and trudge through the roots and the mud puddles.

I would rather bear this weight on my shoulders

than take a journey without these troubles.

Because when I pull through all of these trials

I feel like I've actually got somewhere

and I would endure all the worthwhile miles

for the accomplishment when I get there.

Too many people choose the easy routes

without building themselves along the way.

If you come out with a clean pair of boots

then it has been a waste of a day.

So I will always take the hardest road

and be grateful for all that I'm bestowed.

21st Century Ignorance

"I don't mean to be rude"

but the slights you make

have no basis in moral reasoning

but only in misguided hatred

and as much as you deny it

the generalisations used

are specific and targeted.

You disgust me more

than the so called evils

that you denounce

and I feel that I have more in common

with these subcultures I don't belong in

than any person who persecutes them;

afterall we are all humans.

Soak

Since you pulled the plug I've been feeling drained

and am slowly slumping to my own slaughter.

I know that letting me sink is more humane

because I am just dirty water.

If someone rinsed themselves within my hold

they would emerge even more bespattered,

everyone stays until the water's cold

pretending the first wash never mattered.

I guess it's all about timing your clean

and to leave before you wrinkle and web.

Once your eyes start to lose that fresh gleam

you know the feeling to begin to ebb.

I won't be dramatic and refuse to cleanse

but I'll be more careful choosing my friends.

Go the Long Way/Go the Wrong Way

The problem in taking a shortcut

is that your knowledge of the shortened journey

results in your embarking later,

which in turn gets you to your destination

at the same time as another route would have gotten you.

You walk swiftly, head down with your eyes

staring down at your feet

powering like pistons.

The problem in satellite navigation and maps

is that you rely to heavily on someone else's knowledge

and lose your sense of direction,

your sense of independence,

and your sense of adventure.
You walk swiftly, head down with your eyes

staring down at your directions

whispering like Satan into your ear.

Go the long way,

go the wrong way;

there's a beauty in getting lost.

You'd get more out of your day

encountering some of the world

you would never have crossed.

So next time I pace

I will slow my pace

and soak in the view.

There is no more beautiful place

than this hectic world

which is scarcely given the credit overdue.

Finding How to be Lost

For months I’ve been sat under a tree

which has offered no shelter from the rain

and only in the dark I start to see

that nothing is forcing me to remain.

So I’ve started to get deeper in the woods

where the branches cradle me like their child

and the leaves encase me like evergreen hoods,

comfortably free to roam in the wild.

And now that I have discovered more timber

I have found myself in becoming lost,

and as my mindset begins to limber

I have forced myself out of the cold frost.

I hope I can stay here deep in the wild

where I can have the worries of a child.

Infer No Harm

Matchbox mattresses will not keep you warm

unless you are able to find a spark.
I led there dripping like candle wax

in an attempt to glow despite the dark.

My wicker legs cannot take all the strain

that’s been placed on them throughout the days.
They are waiting desperately to buckle

and burn out in a final blaze.

But my aching muscles cannot be lit,

my lighter has been emptied of its gas.
And my matchbox is empty every night

so I need to wait for the pain to pass.

Someday I may well find myself a match
and my highly flammable heart may catch.

Justifications for Obligations

Loving is egotistical,

the way we crave admiration

and affections from another.

Do we seek to better their lives

or merely to gain confidence

with the application of lovers?

Either way, it is a futile art

That inevitably ends

by burial or cremation.

All I need is my own approval,

afterall, I can rely on

my self-gratification.

Fake Account

This persona that you have created

that you like to wear behind the screen

embodies everything you would have hated

should it be something your real self had seen.

Behind the keyboard you become cruel

and your profile seems so forced and derived,

such a contrast to your natural cool

when your every action is not contrived.

I am tired of being one of your lines

without being a part of your realtime stream

and as this friendship slowly declines

I think it’s about time I changed my theme.

Since I’ve unsubscribed to your put downs

my face has been blessed with fewer frowns.

Primal Instincts

Would hunger make me hunt

or has humanity held me hostage to compassion?

If I became more primal

I could find happiness without the need to ration.

So, in a survival of the fittest,

I will try to stop being sentimental.

I will catch the day and devour it

until my stomach’s not as temperamental.

Montage

Life is just a collection

of ‘best-of’ montages,

It’s up to us to make

major movements

out of

minor moments.

The King and his Empty Court

You’re forging defences against a fly

who is harmlessly trying to befriend you,

and the only damage done is made by

the very fences which defend you.

Why do you build these thick walls of steel

whenever someone reaches your border?

Are you afraid that you might start to feel

an attachment you feel out of order?

This concrete will only hold for so long,

deep down in the earth your foundations are weak

and as much as you make your fortress strong

someone with compassion might expose the leak.

There’s no enemy, so discard your shield

and instead take someone’s hand you wont yield.

Cling

The fallen tears of the tree

are hoarsely whispering to me

as they crisply kiss my toes.

They are so demanding

with each needy rustle landing

following wherever my foot goes.

Ouroboros

When your mind

starts to comprise

conversations

with components

of your subconscious,

you’d best get some sleep.

And your constant

rubbing,

won’t help the sting

of your peeled eyes

and your constant

writing

won’t help the sting

of your troubled head

and your constant

repetition

of this routine

just goes to show

a tired fool

displays exponential idiocy.

Consistent mistakes

are still consistency,

are they not?

Emo Jamz

You couldn’t forgive a blind man for looking at you wrong

when you feel your self-pity beginning to sting,

and you latch on to the lyrics of an old Midwest song

as if the words were yours to sing.

You say they make you feel lighter

to know that someone else feels the same hollow

but I notice your throat is getting tighter

with the years of the same sad songs that follow.

You see, we all will grow old

but not everyone will find themselves along the way,

and some constantly need to be told

that their happiness will find them someday.

You still seem so bitter and full of irritation

like your sadness is the only thing to which you can relate

and the only time you find any hint of elation

is when you are stressing all of the things that you hate.

So I think it’s about time you sang some happy lines

and hope they start to heat up inside your throat down to your heart

until the feeling behind them radiates and refines

those resentments that you had expressed from the start.

So the next time a blind man looks at you wrong way

you may lend him your hand to guide your new found friend,

having faith that you have brought colour into his day

and that the sad songs were about to end.

We are all Born Strangers

We are all born strangers

so, please don't apologise

if you should cause me any pain,

the fault is entirely mine

for ever looking you in the eyes

and letting your presence remain.

We are all born strangers

so, please don't ever feel rude

should you one day decide to leave,

because you were never mine

and this life we live is so crude

for presenting the chance to grieve.

We are all born strangers

so, please let's keep it that way

to save us from that awkward ache,

let that born choice be mine,

you have no obligation to stay

and this heart is mine to break.

A Call for Passion

The kids these days look like clones

as if they need reassurance that they're not alone

with their v-neck shirts and vintage skirts,

stretched out ears and meaningless tattoos that prevent careers,

they kick their canvas shoes as they talk on their expensive phones.

I don't mind if they have chosen this image as their own

but when it's no function all fashion, all profit no fashion,

a mob without a mind, the blind leading the blind

then I am worn to the bone.

The irony is, most of these reject the mainstream

like their subculture is much more unique than it seems

but they are all investing into the notion they're protesting

and the words lose their sense coming from mouths of pretence.

Those true to their roots get tarred as the same team

forcing them to begin off-shoots to revive their dream,

so with the foundations dispersing, the rubble start cursing,

causing trouble for the true who are now just a few

and so style over substance reigns supreme.

Against the Tide

For the past few months I've been swimming against a tide

which has been dragging towards the jagged terrain,

so if I was to relax and grasp a wave to ride

I know that it would ultimately result in pain.

So I have no choice but to struggle against the pull

and hope that my efforts lead me somewhere secure

when I can take advantage of the tempest's lull

though I know I still have the worst of it to endure.

And now the clouds above me are starting to get so bleak

and all of my muscles are beginning to ache

but I can't show any outward signs of feeling weak

as sharks are circling to snatch their supper that's at stake.

As I notice their presence, I feel like giving in

like all hope and vigour's deserted my every limb

but I see my reflection in their sharp daggered fin

and realise that I have enough strength left to swim.

I'm still no closer to reaching a safe dry land

but I sense that I'm becoming stronger with each stroke made

and when water is shallow enough for me to stand

I'll be content to remain wet and gently wade.

Secret Therapy Sessions

A poem a day

keeps the therapist away,

or at least until they are read,

but I know that they

largely unread will stay,

so my secret's safe 'til I'm dead.

Key in Hand

My hands are pressed against bars of cold steel

and it's hard to tell on which side I stand,

but there's no escaping the way I feel

whilst knowing that no judge will understand.

I can't figure out if I am in jail

or if I'm keeping the world locked away

in either case justice does not prevail

so this empty cell is where  I still stay.

I'm hoping someone will give me a fair trial

or maybe it's me who decides their fate

and if the proceedings may take a while

I hope the verdict doesn't fall too late.

In light of evidence, I hope I'll see

that I am the one holding the key.

Isolation

I don’t ask for much from life,

but it seems that those small pleasures that I do seek

don’t correlate with the hopes and wishes

of anyone that I know.

Individuality is often encouraged,

people are told “be yourself!”

but a fault that one could find

is that yourself can be a lonely place.

So, despite our efforts to reject

popular culture and mainstream subculture

we are consequentially

rejecting society.

As such, one could ponder

is humanity and personality unnatural

and would we find more happiness

as numbered robots?

Tinker

People often say

“if it’s not broken don’t fix it”

but if it is broken,

it’s most likely beyond repair,

so if it’s not broken

please fix it

and keep on tinkering

with loving care.

[de/re]Construct

The person I am is a paper-mache

of who I was and what I want to be,

a mismatching collage with gaping holes

with materials which never agree.

So I plaster myself with more false hopes

that I can cover up all my mistakes

but the foundations I've built are so flimsy

that the excess I've added never takes.

I serve myself with no real function;

just a poorly constructed DIY,

a prototype that never made production,

a faulty product that no-one will buy.

So go ahead and please tear me apart

because I could surely use a fresh start.