Teenage

Outlines, outlines
She hated the grapes so she cut the grapevine
Keep your fruit
Keep your damned fruit
Temptation can’t tempt me
Immortal

And time passes as it does, so did tiny pieces of her
She strung them up in the corners of her bedroom
Shadowy souvenirs
Then, our heroine meets another
Unexpected love she cannot cope with
The surprise hurts something she had curled away so tight
When it unfurls she takes a moment of sight and
Pulls herself up into the light
Takes a tiny singular bite and throws away every part of her plan
God, she says, as confused as I am, For one month I will do as you intend
And then once she rounds the bend
I’ll pick up the speed, move faster in pace
So that a month will drop from my face
Keeping away from the torture is torture indeed

In the end, I hope to succeed
Legacy, beauty, greed

I’d like to tell you a story
Once, twice, too many upon a times
She ripped herself apart in front of a cold mirror’s face
Each flower she picked smelled like rain, dead and discarded by the grey sky
She knew love, knew that it sucked the insides out of her, left her half empty
So she dropped away from herself,
Took the power she had and ran it down
What she didn’t see that with every step she took closer she was only further away
Cast adrift in the unfamiliar sea
Clinics held her tight, steady
But the look in her eyes tells of the wobble in her smile

A loud noise fills our ears
As we, standing alone in the dark
Board a circle train of suffering,
Running and hiding, our basic sustenance.
But once again, this quiet, nostalgic violence fills our ears
As it turns us around, we never truly forget
That we were always woven together.
As it rears its head, we never truly forget
Who we are.
As it bars our way, it will one day return to us
Who we’ve always been inside
And weave our heart together.

A lonely man filled with hate and anguish
entered the room where stood a little boy and a table.
The little boy placed memories upon the table,
memories filled with hatred and anger.
He put the sounds of lonesome cries there.
The boy placed half-smoked cigarettes upon the table.
He placed the rotten smell of whisky on the table.
He placed the desperate cries of his mum there.
On the table he placed the dim candle burning with
the last of its wax.
He feels like no one understands him,
he is unheard,
he is unfelt.
He placed the feelings of invisibility on the table:
No one understands,
No one talks to him.
He placed on the table tattered clothes,
dirty clothes.
He put on the table unused water and the lack of cleanliness along with it.
The man walked over to the boy and the table,
he looked with despair in his eye.
The man didn’t want to see the table so the boy placed naivety there.
At that moment, the light at the centre of the table
got bright,
illuminating more of the room.
Before, the room was dark and all you could see was the decrepit table that now stands
upon the marble floor.
The boy leaves the room, leaving
the man and the table.
The light gets brighter as the boy leaves.
The man turns to witness the boy disappear.
He stops in his tracks as he notices the beauty around him.
He notices beautiful architecture and paintings filled with such love and hope.
As he looks, the room engulfs him in light.
He’s taken aback and looks around once more
to find the table was never there.
He leaves the room, no longer a lonely man,
Now filled with the beauty of what is around him.

Life is hard, life to endure.

Keep yourself right: the world is not pure.

Always keep strong, don’t let out a tear.

Conquer the evil and conquer your fear.

Protection of weak and care for the bullied.

Keep yourself clean, keep from the sullied.

Follow the rules but follow those just.

Be modest and simple, turn from the last.

Look after the orphans, but children so small.

Go to the injured: the men that do fall.

Speak against wrong and the ones that do harm.

Influence for good and keep away bad.

Visit the prisoners and comfort the sad.

Make people feel better in their hearts and their soul.

Help the poor sufferers and those that do toil.

But importantly first, love God with your heart,

For this world and his people one day you will part.

Oh the bonny flower
sitting on a leaf,
it so fresh and green
like bumbling bees and bonny flowers
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

Poets really dream and imagine things,
They can write them in the wildest of places.
In the zoo or in the bathroom even if they’re doing a good poem for us all to love and enjoy!
Poets do them anywhere, for that reason they simply do NOT care!
If you travel by train they might be writing there,
or their car, it’s a mystery you’ll never know here & over there.
Cars, trains, buses, and more my favourite one is definitely
when they are dreaming of stars.

This is a tree,
Its fruits are free.
Some birds are on the tree,
My mother beat me.
Some birds are singing,
My mobile is ringing.
Tree has a bark,
I saw a shark.
It gives us fruit,
I don’t like its root.

I’ve been nursed in your womb
Feasted on your principles and policies
I’ve drunk your delicious food
I’m drunk on your glorious history

I’ve learnt your lands, worn your wondrous attire
I’ve lived you, I’ve loved you
Despite your myriad mistakes, I stoke your fire
Despite your lies being many, your truths too few

But tonight is a night of truth and trust
Like every night would be in the ideal world
You are a part of my identity, my duty and responsibility
You have your faults, you have my loyalty

But, I cannot define myself by you
No matter how much you want me to
They say that my refusal paints me unfaithful
Unaware that paintings may have multiple meanings

I do not indulge in your hobbies
I’m not great with any of your many languages
I do not listen to your songs, your movies, your television
Neverthless, I love you
And sometimes you love me too