Plunge

The steps are steep, There’s mean feat. They’re easy to climb, as your body doesn’t seem to mind. At the top we see all this potential. Sometimes we’re concerned about the credentials. We all hesitate. Not to make a mistake. It’s our fear, that puts us in gear. Makes us stall, Just before the fall. An innocent hello. Can turn into the most destructive hell hole Or send us into a field of bliss. Where all we do is kiss.

Grasping Air

I’ve always been a dreamer
You would describe me as ridiculous
And I would scoff at your tone as preposterous
All the fun and games, nothing wrong with our demeanour

The world is your oyster
That is what I was told
More a tale for the old
As far as I can tell, there’s not even a pot to stir

I guess it’s time to set up shop
Time to get dirty and a little bit flirty
Plenty of life yet, I’m not even thirty
There’s no reason for my dreams to be cropped.  

My name may not touch the sky
That’s not a reason to fret
Even if I have a few regrets
There’s always going to be me, myself and I

Inside

Sitting on the grass. What felt like a farce.
I left to escape hell, only to find that it was within me.
There are no demons that follow. The am the demon, the gargoyle... the mutant.
Constantly in dispair. My hope comes alive when I can escape pain; by avoiding reality.
I don't want to escape to paradise.
I just want to escape me.

Expectations

The sky is not just overcast, it’s grey. The dreary atmosphere extracting everyone’s soul. Each fibre holding it to you is torn. One by one. Slowly it stretches and strains, until snap! And it begins again, and again and again

Lucky for me, where my soul should be; there is just despair. A hole where no light reaches.

No joy. No anger. Just pain.

The lower the lows, the higher the highs; or at least they say. I close my eyes to escape. To pretend that there is bliss, that the pain is just my mind playing tricks on me.

The truth is inescapable. I’m not where I want to be.

Alone. Broken.

It’s just me now.

Poem 5

Friendship

What do we call those blissful days,
When everything we recall is just a haze,
Where every gaff is met with a laugh,
Even if it was daft, there’s no faff.

The mates you join at the pub,
Even if it’s to grabs some grub,
The ones who can jest with zest,
No matter how much rest, it’s always a fest.

Make no mistake,
There’s no limit to intake,
You just have to say hello to a fellow,
And who knows, you might have a mellow bellow.

Life is full of randomness,
That’s why we need those with candidness,
Rather than than those fake snakes,
I have a life with those who partake and keep me awake.

Let me be frank, I do rank.
I might know a ton, but you’ll always be my number one.

Poem 4

Glass ceiling
Showing me hope and dreams
The water pours down
There’s no crack

*tap tap tap*

No response?
What’s the point?
Wasn’t I born free?
Should I even care?

Just feel lost
For what cost?
Just to begin
And fit in?

If I scream and plead,
Will anyone hear me?
Or is that just part of the cruel box,
treated like a beggar; seen but not heard

Look back up, the glass has gotten thicker
Or is there more water…maybe both
There’s much to do
But I need to escape

Just fate to deal with now
Take a breath and look down
What’s that now?
I’m standing on glass

Poem 3

Working Title Rush:

Heart pumping

Each ball of sweat Just dripping I can’t ignore it

Who are these people Standing on the right

Don’t they realise

This is London

People have places to go. We don’t care if they can relax. That their friends want to chat, I’ve got a train to catch.

Waiting is a suckers game I want to murder on the dance floor, go grab dinner with grandma.  I’ve got a world to conquer. I haven’t been waiting all night for this fight.  I’ll be on the run having a some blue nun .

Might hazard a guess that I’m no Salah, But I ain’t no Paulinhio either,  I plan on Kane-ing after August,  I’m Onna-mah way to the top. Better watch out, Fergie ain’t got the time to save you.

Time for me to fly past. So move out the way or get blown away

Poem 2

Not sure about a title, looking for recommendation. Shout out to Chris for the picture.

Broken
How else can I describe the feeling
Hours upon hours spent doing what?
My wounds need tending
I need to get out of this rut

Alone
Just stuck with my own thoughts
While it’s good company; it’s not ideal
It’s not as though I did something wrong and was caught,
Time to go back to the highlight reel

Cry
It’s not the end,
Even if I could make sure of it
It’s not my time to ascend
It’s time to check out my grit

Breath
One is not entitled to the fruits of one’s labour,
Action will always be better than inaction,
So it’s time to sharpen my best sabre,
No more dissatisfaction

Nasty
Time to act unapologetically,
Even if my life has just been swirled
Where do I want to be?
On top of the world

Poem 1

Title: Apparently We Are All Monotone

This shall be a test. Saying my story, to you. Each Five words, lines, stanzas. To bore and educate you. I am just a cog.

I got BA, MSc, GDL. Well fingers crossed for one. Rejection from bars and shops. Am I overly qualified now? Maybe, I still dream PhD.

Though my true dream: PM. You heard that right: PM. The nickname the Osho’s say. The ideal after Formula One. Changing Britain can’t be easy.

We all have one shot. Concerns about the past: waste. Haters, liars and the scared. Only going to hold back. Jump into the unknown: flourish.

Enemies stand in my way. They will search me: Trident. They will aggressively spy: Prevent. Have to believe in myself. Am I just a cog?