Poetry Corner: Certificate

It just says November, a time now far away,
Not a date, no mention of a day,
I never went, no pictures or gown,
No handshake from a relative of the crown,

On a weekday I will have gone to work,
No excuses about missing Church,
No proud parents or friends I made,
Another workday with tempers frayed,

I said it didn’t matter to me then,
Looking back, I get sad again,
Nothing changed, perhaps it should,
No one said, the boy done good,

Hidden away in the darkest nook,
Torture just to take one look,
I changed your frame in hope,
That happiness would interlope,

Proof of achievement some would say,
It matters not then, not today,
Never walking proudly or standing tall,
If you never rise, you never fall,

I have no recollection, no story to tell,
My pride is broken, nothing to swell,
I had written my dissertation tome,
And the doors closed on my home,

My time was done, I was cast out,
Not one of them, no longer devout,
I had stayed the course, I had success,
Already broken, of that, I confess,

I sit your new frame, new place, new wall,
Grew just in recent years, new to standing tall,
Of you, I should be so very very proud,
What I had done proclaimed, my voice rather loud,

Just sitting there and gazing at the light,
Me, right there with you, fearing the night,
Resting on my desk somewhat benign,
You are nothing, the significance is mine

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Poetry Corner: Imperfect

Urban spaces I am confused, so dense and such a mess

The order so superficial, the faces so downcast

No time to breathe, no time to be, busy busy bees

Six inches in front of their face is all reality needs to be

Somehow this where it happens, to see and be seen

Perfect people living perfect lives perfectly groomed in perfect Pantone

 

I look a little closer, penetrate the dense face of lies,

The rent too high, they hate their flat, shared with a complete twat

They groom to go outside in fear their image is what buys their beer

Instagram their perfect meals, from the same cookery book each day

Nothing is real, their jobs are shit, even the pooch is a little git

Without Daddy most are out of luck, the rest moved away in a hired truck

They cannot escape this perfect bliss, no end in this hipster twist

 

Fed up of vegan, the coffee fair trade not mortgage free

Life of craft made devoid of graft, farmed out beyond middle class sensibility

Longing for fun to be the fashion, joy to be this season’s must see

Instead, they toil, looking great, feeling white powder block out their fate

Money so vulgar, follow passion, contribute, authentic and true

No heating in winter that mantra they lament, and the bosses they try to please

Looking like they do, smelling better, still using organic monk made shampoo

 

Creating nothing past façade and shimmer, substance got not even a glimmer

Stuck in the movement, destined for cliché, indeed, rather urban in their decay

Poetry Corner: Journey

Loaded my stuff into my truck, pulled off my drive for the last time
No one waved goodbye, bet she checked I left though

Picked up my new keys and like 17 again stepped alone into my new place
Unloaded and went to work, came home and made my bed

A lot has happened since then, I know she wanted me dead
That little place became my home my castle and my keep

I looked out at children playing and found myself crying at the sight
You took my boys when you threw me out like so much broken trash

I’ve moved on from my little home where I learned to grow and heal
Starting alone I took tiny steps and slowly found my way

One by one those prison walls are being knocked down and I moved away
Someone stupid enough to have me as you would most likely mock

A different town and a different house, a completely different place
A new home this time no longer alone, not quiet or hiding in plain sight

Learning new things like feeling loved and cherished, grown and nourished
Weakness is allowed, vulnerability an opportunity for kindness not attack

Cast aside, I look different now, finding me not who you crushed me to be
Those years they left their mark, and those tears took an unwelcome toll

My spirit grew my body broke, too much neglect from playing my part
My heart forgot to beat, other things now beyond repair, cared for now

New start, a new beginning, so cliché, I write my story now, I tell it my way
Not the villain, the bad guy, no tales of bad behaviour or things to improve

No action points or summary, instead a hug, a kiss, and a cuddle me
Surprised those stories stopped, news just in, is positive and encouraging

I am allowed to have something to say, no transcript required, no inquiry
Just the smiles of time well spent, friendships made, or deepened further

Now here I am and the things I hear, they can’t mean me, surely not
From a little house and living in fear, it’s not perfect but quite near

 

Poetry Corner: Friend

Forever in my heart, my closest confidant, my dearest muse

Real and authentic, my sweetest thought, my deepest desire

In my dreams, you fill my days, in your arms no sweeter place

Endured the transitions, the road less travelled by my side

New and undiscovered country you made your home with me

Darkest days unwearied, my journey your sweetest desire

Sailed from the sheltered harbour, braced against the stormy sea

Held my hand when defeat threatened to crush and break me apart

I look up, everything to prove and you love me the same win or lose

Perfect for me, everyone can see

 

Poetry Corner: Face

Not the window to your soul
A mask that hides the demon
In youth it worked so well
Now the devil’s mask exposed

The eyes hide the evil inside,
Behind the innocent lies the hate
Slowly the rage consumes
The veil no more the disguise

Who I once saw stripped away
Twisted remains burned in spite
Time reveals us all
Lays bare your wretched lies

Poetry Corner: Drowning

A canoe sinking, legs trapped, one roll too far

Trying to relax, slow motion, the last gasp of air

Knowing I won’t make the surface again

Going soft, just waiting, trapped and calm

No light, no life, no highlight reel, nothing

Heart stopped, living or dying

Gasping, choking, the water tasting disgusting

The sky pale and far away, the face so close

No air, fighting, water everywhere

The cold, ice on the inside, shivering

Lying on the hard jetty with loud voices, hearing nothing

Lungs rasping, bursting, and the air stinging every breath

No post mortem, no revelation, empty, lost