The best I can do,

Is often the first,

Attempts to improve,

Will likely be worse,

The punch thrown in a dream,

Where noodly arms waver,

Or carbonara sans cream,

Incomplete; lacking flavour.

Too many ideas swirling around,

Or is it a chasm; too few?

It matters little as no sense abounds,

It immidiately all goes askew.

In my dark cell,

Where the phantom life is lived,

Eighties beats and eighties hooks,

Set the tone.

How can this make me pine,

for imagined yesterday?

I ask myself, yet, of course,

Nobody answers

All that fills the aching silence,

Where the false memories are made,

Are eighties drums and eighties keys,

Is this real?

Spat out, no choice; plunged into the fray,

Fatal flow, no voice; for all we need to say,

Compassion forced on some; incompatible with life,

A rancid curse in a universe, filled with needless strife.

Thirsty, shaded flowers wither, slowly dying,

Despite lack of powers; its supposed they're just not trying,

Labelled as the flawed; the meek, weak and fragile,

By those with hearts unthawed, mental gymnasts oh so agile.

Those they think are troubled, just can't block reality,

Unable to change the channel on the cosmic LCD,

Most will end up early dead, and beat the mob in hell,

Embarrassed by the lives we led, even if we lived them well.

I live for one purpose now, strange a reason it may be,

And that is to find out how, they we can o longer see.

Once was black and white; void and light,

Wrong and right: did we know?

Colour changed, black and white exchanged,

Black now white, white now black, no going back.

Colourblind came, melting together,

Right and wrong tethered,

Right now wrong, wrong now right,

Became each other overnight.

The tricolour: Mother White, Father Black,

Begat the son Grey,

Enveloped in uncertain comfort,

For eternity.

Yet, beyond the prism, a colour schism,

Exquisite Eve, white teeth into Ruby red apple,

Her toes curled in the green grass of paradise,

Sharpened to prick guilty feet, drowning black and white in ruby red.

Blazing orange-yellow Prometheus,

Warming hearts of innocent husks,

Scythed in Pangea fields,

Soon to sear and bubble in black and white foam,

Alchemy giving grey.

Gilded absolute of the far east,

Gold becoming sepia tone, lost in fogs of time.

The everlasting soul, blue as sky above and sea below,

Out of grasp,

Brown as mud underneath terracotta feet. Prickly, guilty feet.

Severed by pagan savage.

Black, white, grey; washed away in the pallets of ancient artists,

Kaleidoscopic imagination splashed lovingly and violently across a turbulent canvas; eons wide.

There is just one thing which I be stannin'

And that's milky brown tea, rich with tannin,

Boomers, millenials, Gen X and Gen Z too,

Can all appreciate a basic, boiled brew.

Fuck your bubbles, fuck your ice, fuck exotic loose leaf,

Just give me a Yorkshire teabag or i'm causing you grief,

Yes, it's staining my teeth and it's staining my mug,

But it's worth it all for this hot liquid hug.

Frst thing at breakfast, end with one during supper,

Any time of day you'll see me cradling a cuppa,

But leave it for two minutes, or maybe even three,

Cos I'll cut you up if you serve me pissweak tea.

I put my best foot forward,

And fell sharply off the cliff,

I'm so extremely cool,

That my joints are frozen stiff.

I always get back on the horse,

Which my hefty weight collapses,

I have a bulging, genius brain,

Missing a few too many synapses.

I dance like no one is watching,

To the beat of my own drum,

But uncoordinated shuffling,

Has left limbs sore and numb,

I carpe each and every diem,

As though it were my last,

Which explains my temporal anxiety,

As the clock is ticking fast!

Too awake to sleep,

Too tired to move,

A masterpiece of ambivalence,

Belongs in the Louvre.

Buried, in a closet, under bric a brac and stationery

And weight and loathing and hate and masonry.

The militant caretaker diligently taking care

To bury himself in work and leave it decaying in there.

Too sharp to shut it out,

Too backwards to go far,

Without too much a doubt,

An apathetic objet d’art.

Framed, and tightly packed, lickety-split on a rickety boat,

Pounded against waves of a confounded, primordial sea,

Interrupts the endless, tedious water where it floats,

On an ocean of baseless, hypocritical morality.

Too despairing for plans,

Too reasoned to be hopeless,

As a work that is bland,

It is life’s magnum opus.

Washed up on shore; hope no more to be truly seen - obscene!

No artist impression can capture the canvas of depression,

Lost in paradise, under nature’s empty blue and unruly green,

Known to all the land the digits on one hand a work of pure obsession.

Made for speed,

Bred to bleed,

Tug the mane,

Break and train,

Gasp for breath,

Charge at death,

Bow and spear,

Run through fear,

Metal feet,

Human seat,

Blood is spilt,

Empires built,

No reward,

Just a horde,

War is done,

Now for fun,

Vilest curs,

Whips and spurs,

Placing bets,

Live assets,

Break a leg,

Cannot beg,

Behind shed,

Cold and dead

Hello everyone, I've written a poem,

I've titled it "Hello Everyone, I've Written a Poem",

It's quite like me, to struggle for titles,

But this one, I didn't struggle with,

I said to myself "What would a pointless poem be called?",

I replied "Probably something like 'Hello Everyone, I've Written a Poem'",

HA!

So I went with that, I went with the title "Hello Everyone, I've Written a Poem",

While you read it, you may find yourself angry,

But let it happen,

Anyway, here is the poem I've written,

Titled "Hello Everyone, I've Written a Poem":

You know that panda that eats, shoots and leaves?

Well, what about the community that grieves?

Thank you for reading my poem, called "Hello Everyone, I've Written a Poem".

Merry Christmas everyone.

Humanity's curse,

We try to hide,

Unspeakable horror,

Bred within walls,

Cages,

Miles of bars,

Shit, piss, fear,

Unbearable pain,

No cluck, moo or bleat could explain.

Ripped away from mother's milk,

Mulched and minced for fat pigs,

Stuffed into buns, thrown onto plates,

We cannot help, it's our curse,

Witness to your suffering,

I hate them all,

All who do this to you,