Trash. My poetry is trash.
Throw it in the bin.
I’ll never make any cash
and I’m never going to win
any prizes for these rhymes
I flew up to Brisbane to see my three kids last week. It’s been a year since I saw them last.
Living in Lara I was constantly stressed by the situation I dug myself in. Feeling like I was constantly being watched, not knowing who to trust, not knowing if someone has…
Me? An AK-47 weapon,
With fully loaded magazine.
Fully automatic word machine.
Bullets fly and ricochet
back at me, hot lead piercing
my heart. They didn’t stray.
You’re heart is bullet proof.
There’s nothing special about this
It’s just a human thing, and hubris
To imagine it was unique or magic
Or that any other lunatic
Used this way could ever feel
Sometimes I feel suicidal. What is the point of my life. I have dysthymia from overthinking everything. Let’s do something fun, you say. But before you finish thinking about it I am already done. In my mind I have been there and done that already. I’m bored. There’s nothing left to think. I no longer…
Words no longer shine the way they might
Have when my world was new and bright,
When my eyes were filled with wonder
Soaking in the morning light.
Frozen in the fifth dimension, nothing moves from here. Time is geometric. Strange to think that after all of this,I was just a fractal formula iterating away until the inherent decayin the system one day takes it all away.I can plot our lives as world-lines on a Minkowski chart.Look! Here…
No destiny for us, we wait for fate.
As the future ebbs in to the past
probability becomes our history.
We try to ride the wave,
and sometimes even try to save
Is it life I love, or what I pictured it to be?
Roses without thorns, butterflies and unicorns?
The truth is cruel, life is a bitch.
Wisdom herself is a wicked old witch.
Some religious people might find the anti-theist memes I share offensive. I can understand that. Maybe they just unfriend me. Maybe that’s the way it should be.