Efficiency or Enjoyment?

I am rambling towards a destination,

full of determination but lacking in direction.

Each time I set off I am full of faith

that the path will lead me towards where I want to be,

and although all signs seem to lead to that goal

and my journey is filled with delectation and promise,

the purpose always seems to be lost along the way

and I end up further than where I started.

I then resent the path for misleading me

despite deep down knowing that it is my own two feet

which lead me to my outcomes; those two feet I must stand on.

I should remember that a path is just a path.

Perhaps I will start taking the longest route

and appreciate the beauty out there

rather than being blinded by own intentions.

I still don't know whether to look

for the most efficient path

from point A to point B

or the most enjoyable,

and so I find myself

dithering between the two.

Beggars

I am needy like a beggar with his arms outstretched,

cupping his hands to gather your change.

I am needy to have faith in the most far-fetched

even when I know they are out of my range.

A beggar only begs because he is lacking

in not only finance but also in pride.

He sits in the gutter not because he is slacking

but because it is the best place for him to hide.

When someone throws their money in my direction

I can't help but hold onto the hope

that society may still have some sort of affection

to ensure that someone of poor fortune may cope.

But should I accept I would grow in my greed

and deep down I know I should decline,

for the only thing I ever really need

is something I can already call mine.

It takes all my strength

to keep you at arms length

and this beggar will stretch out his arm,

not to accept

but for his pride to be kept

safely away from taking harm.

Wait It Out

Physical pleasures are inferior

to pleasures of the mind;

what lingers longer than that feel of a touch

is incredibly hard to find.

So I will keep my fingertips locked away

until my mind is set

and when I have found something permanent

I will not have to regret.

Dirt

You are the dirt under my nails

which I fear may become a constant stain.

I've washed my hands seven times

but you cling like stubborn roots in my soil

and in the past I have worried

about how I would look with such grubby hands

but I have come to accept your prescence

because you're a daily reminder of all my effort

and for as long as you have a hold on me

I can hold onto that.

Maybe people will see my dirty hands

and not judge me on how this may appear

but on how well my hands have been worn.

My skin is becoming coarse and thick

and what once pierced my tender palms

is now unnoticeable to my unflinching eyes.

Time will heal; and time's healing will also strengthen.

Spring, Don't Pass Me By

I've been feeling the longest of winters

start to eat away at my tiring eyes.

All that I've held onto always splinters

and I've come to notice everything dies.

Those splinters stay rooted in my sore skin

and seem to bury deeper to my bone.

They only remain because I let them in

so that in pain I may feel less alone.

But I cannot continue to mourn death

when the world is showing the first signs of spring,

and for each passing there is a new breath;

the world moves too quickly for us to cling.

So I will focus on smiling each day

and not letting my sadness lead me astray.

Skint Spies

I grew fond of a light which shone in your eyes

thinking it showed the brightness of your soul

but the source of the shining was concealed by your lies

and the smile which they matched meant nothing at all.

Too often have I felt capable of knowing intentions

and judging people to be exactly how they are.

Too often have imperfections had mentions

and too often have they stretched just one lie too far.

So here is something else for prying eyes to haunt and hunt

I know that my words still fall on deaf but sharp ears,

I am sure you regret crashing in your untasteful stunt

but that is just the way that karma steers.

Keep on insisting to yourself that nothing is wrong,

and I will throw you two more coins to rub together

and watch the sparks fly from your forked tongue

until they frey the rope and our ties can sever.

So why don't you smoke on that?

I hope you choke on that.

I wish we never even spoke of that,

because all of the lies that I have heard

have forced my hand into some hostile words.

Bitter Blush

There's noone I despise more

than the embarrassment I used to be

but embarrassingly

there's noone I'd rather be

than when I once was happy.

Aware Unawares

I can act out any of your twisted visions

if you can mask them as my own decisions

because I like to pretend that I care

about being in control and completely aware,

but there are some things I shouldn't know;

and it's clear there are things which you do not show

so please keep them a secret for my sake

for this naivety is my choice to make.

Stubborn Silence

When I wish to communicate

I resist the urge to instigate

to see if I’m actually sought,

but as I continue to sit and wait

by my phone until the night is late...

it’s clear I wont be given a thought.

Playing With Fire

Let your rose-hued nostalgia

fuel your self-pity.

Pour it, you poor thing,

on to that dried up clinging

and watch the taunting flames dance

all over the grave of your thoughts,

letting the smoke devour your sight

of what actually matters.

Let the stinging burn destroy your smile,

which it had once complimented so lovingly.

Let the choking smoke cloud your memories,

which has once seemed so certain and full of hope.

Let the smoke alarm shriek like a banshee,

and drown out all of those songs you once loved.

Let the destruction create a barrier at your doors,

and keep out all of those who could help you out.

Muddled

Left boot on my right hand,

please understand,

when it comes to being worn on feet

you cannot be beat,

but you do not belong

where your fit is all wrong.

Endeavour

They say that effort brings success

and I guess that means happiness

so I'll keep on grinning

when my sadness is winning,

and for as long as I'm trying

my smile will be undying

and one day it might just be

a permanent reality.

I've made the effort to take note

to what they have to say

and I keep holding on to the hope

that my endeavour will pay.

Wrong Number

Leave on your bedroom light

to guide me to your heart

because in the dark of the night

I can't tell the exteriors apart

and I don't want the shame

of knocking at the wrong door

only to ask for someone's name

who doesn't live there anymore.

Living is a Challenge (Challenge Living)

Everything is so forced and false

set by routines standardized by the equally superficial past

which in turn is tired standards based upon prior customs,

an inheritance of manner taken on without any real thought.

Is passing down a curse really imparting wisdom

when it is webbed in a wealth of woe?

Leave your ideologies to rot with your decomposing corpse

and let me earn my own faiths and feelings as I see fit.

It all seems to move in waves, and circulates an ocean full of water

which has not the initiative to defy the moon

and sweep the shores in its own style,

letting each droplet get its chance to shine.

Instead we get the same recycled rinse

regurgitated every score, until the latest arrival

is dried up by the grainy landscape.

The songs on the radio all the same structure

with rapped verses conveyed in an overconfident drawl

which build up to the chorus, usually sang by a female,

pleasant enough to the ear but drab and uninspired.

All articulated over tinny drum cycles,

which sound like the cogs of the producer's brain warming up.

Period revival in a sycophantic plagiarism, 

or post-modernism in forced contrarianism;

even originality has lost its originality.

Your forms' structures are too rigid for you to convey

those feelings which your mind is told it feels

but your oh-so-trendy free verse has no identity.

And admittedly, even these words are guided

by history's idea of how words should be.

All the religious people in the world

apply unfounded faith into a notion that defies the science

which has been eaten up just as blindly as Eden's fruit,

but the modern day faith has slowly been dwindling and dying

whilst more people apply their trust in other concepts.

I'm not saying that the preachers are right,

but who are atheists to say that they are wrong

when they follow the 'facts' of a textbook like a bible

and don't go out to meet their own maker, whether super or natural?

More faith still seems to go into that absurd notion of 'love'

which is felt because we are told we feel it,

just as we speak in the language we are born into

but could quite as easily used another tongue,

and I have yet to feel the evidence of that eternal flame

but have felt many singes from brief flickers,

the pain I both feel and accept because I am taught

it is part of the process to finding that holy grail.

Is anything we're taught real? This can't be all there is to life,

when invention is an ever present keystone to the world

will there ever be a limit to what we are capable of,

and if so is this limit defined by nature's capabilities or our own?

I want to live on the forefront of history

and make no sense whatsoever, acting in such an outlandish manner

it might just become normality,

because this ordinary life seems alien to me

and I just can't readily accept every experience without reflection

and challenging reality.

IhmsIhtw! NiaqhaIwhothfalail, alatial. Ii?

Out.

Running Away

I'm sick.

Tired.

Spent.

Uninspired.

You blend.

As one.

I'm weary.

I'm gone...

I'm an outsider in a world

where I can find no home,

but I feel no loneliness

in feeling alone.

I'm only an outcast

because I locked the door,

threw away the key and ran

until I couldn't recognize anything anymore.

Maybe this fresh scenery

will provide me with more hope

and the fresh faces I see in it

will give me the strength to cope.

A Case for Slow Paced Haste

Do I choose immediacy or reflection

when I record an event?

Which provides the most accurate recollection

of how things really went?


There is a case for catching memory in its youth

before it fades away

but the freshness of emotion can hide the truth

and resentment may stay.

Yet if you sit composing yourself for too long

you lose your direction

and what you once meant may come out completely wrong

and convey the wrong affection.

Do I choose immediacy or reflection

when I record an event?

Which provides the most accurate recollection

of how things really went?

Roulette

My thoughts roll around on a wheel

and they always seem to be black.

My chipless hands are left to deal

with all of the red which I lack.

I wish that my dark wouldn't win

but I am always out of luck

and by the end the state I'm in

I just couldn't give a fuck.

So I throw down all of my chips

and gamble it on being red

but on and on the wheel skips

and there is only black ahead.

I wonder if it's luck or fate

that I always place the wrong bet

but perhaps there's luck with number 8

and I won't have to live with regret.

Well Weathered

The sun shines down with an intense stare

and kisses my skin with soft concern,

silently strengthening, 

you narrow my worries as you narrow my squinting eyes.

The defeated clouds hide away with self pity

and congratulates me on my warmth,

graciously gone,

you lighten my worries as you lighten the beautiful blue skies.

The gentle breeze gently nudges my fringe to the right

and adjusts my clothes to its taste,

cooling and caring,

you guide away my worries as you guide me to a content state.

The clarity from the weather fills me with warmth

and wills me to wear a smile with my shorts,

calmingly clear,

you welcome my happiness as I welcome the spring date.

Perceptions and Perspective

Perspective changes perceptions,

angles can humanize angels,

but they can also hide deceptions

and provide misconceptions

about the world's distorted truth.

Looking at horizons from above

makes all you know seem so small,

and so you question what you love

and you feel the need to move and shove

away the landscape you know so well.

Looking at horizons from below

makes all you know seem so out of reach,

and so you question if you really know

how to reach the Sun's bright glow

without burning your stretched fingers.

Looking at horizons from afar

makes all you know seem to be in place,

but you still question why you are

not clutching on to your favourite star

and have that perfection within your grasp.

Perceptions change perspective

so view the world in a rose tinted hue

for our beauty is subjective

but its happiness is infective

and will shine onto us in the most flattering light.

False Advertising

Last month I invested in a product,

bedazzled by its gloss.

I held the belief that its value

was much greater than its cost.

Beneath the impeccable finish

lay too many flaws,

yet I hadn't noticed this until

I held it in dirtied paws.

I knew I had a right to take it back

but I still felt such a shame

that I had been duped into something

branded as something not the same.

Next time I will save time and money

for something with a guarantee,

and will not fall for instant impulsive charms

but for prolonged quality.

Entrance Fee: Dignity

Disorderly queues for overpriced clubs

which everyone visits yet noone really likes.

Fights breaking out between those by the exit;

probably over some accidental spillage

or a purposeful act of partner pillage.

Yes, everyone is looking to take their spoils

when there is oh so much to spoil,

spoilt for choice in a sea of rotten fish and sharks.

Small skirts, long waits,

tight tees, loose dates,

short change, tall drinks,

low standards, high jinks,

loud music, quiet stares

go down, upstairs,

strong shots, weak wills

heart pounds, head kills.

Everyone seems impressed that you put out

but I'm not impressed unless you see it out,

everyone around seems to be out on the pull

but all I ever want is for my heart to be full

and I know that I won't find that here

so I'm headed home once I've finished this beer...

Permanence

I've lost my concern for temporary pleasures

having a preference for permanence,

like the way the warmth you feel from your friends

is much stronger than a vacation sun.

So I am no longer making an effort to cling

onto those things which I feel like I love,

because I've realised those things worth keeping

will be permanent anyway.

Reasoning Reactions

When I face rejection

I react with such dejection

not through being sad

but because I am mad

that I cannot achieve perfection.

When I do not face admiration

I react with such indignation

that someone may not see

the real me

when I can offer them elation.

Five Year Plan

I've been told to stop living in the future

and to concentrate on today,

but I cannot bring myself to live like that

when the present goes away.

Of course, I can see the point made

that life is just too short

to make and live by indefinite plans

which the shifts of time will thwart.

So, I've settled on some middle ground

and made a five year plan

where my targets are achievable

and I can finally become a man.

Envy for the Empty

If I owned nothing,

I would have nothing to be stolen.


If I trusted nothing,
I would have nothing to let me down.

If I felt nothing,

I would have nothing to get hurt.

If I hoped for nothing,

I would have nothing to fear.

If I tried nothing,

I would have nothing to fail.

Murderous Mirroring

I am drowning.

I am waiting for that hand

outstretched.

The outline

I can barely distinguish.

I can only survive

when I realise it's my own hand

reflected by my doom.

Spring Bulbs

I see children smiling,

their lips parting like Spring bulbs

revealing their white petalled teeth,

and the instinctive happiness and radiance

that appears to have been imparted upon them by the Sun

turns my over-complicated branches an envious green.

I wonder if I have seen

just too much light, and although I have grown,

oh so much stronger, taller and older

than those young seedlings

this growth has been a haphazard spreading

without any real thought to where my roots lie deep.

Alternatively, I could have seen

too many dreary dismal days of grey

which have made my core damp and rotten,

and so no matter how much light I may see

I will always be disaffected and despondent,

incapable of ever blooming something beautiful.

Either way, it is clear to see

that this young bulb has grown to be a weed,

a nuisance to those who wish to pick the most fragrant flowers.

Those fresh flower faces better keep smiling with such innocence,

because one day they will undoubtedly grow just like me,

grow to be wisened of the world, to be wizened by the world.

Waist Deep

I believe a person is defined

by the way they can deal

with fortune being unkind

and suddenly having to feel

cold, confused and confined.

If they can come out dry

after wading into a marsh

then there is no need to cry

over how their struggle was harsh

for the worst has passed by.