Venting poetry into the atmosphere
Hello world
It was so good to meet you through
Flat screens picking up that resolutioned definition
Picking up pixels shaping revolutionary scars
And that sweet breeze ruffling protective sacking
It must have been a sad day
Saying goodbye to your children grown
Too fast to keep up with no matter the urge
But you tried. How tired you must have been…
Stuck on the m20 at two in the afternoon is a lot like being stuck on the m20 at midday. I say this with the certainty of someone who has now down both consecutively and this sentence is one most assuredly deserve. The punishment fits the crime, for taking the m20 is the act and punishment wrapped neat and proper. Hear my lament and be warned.
By these bars of dulled acclaim I
Sit and think of times shrunken in valour
Those memories stroll now with ease
Out from parched lips and empty eyes
With towering pillars blushing either side
Forgetting to reach an empty impasse
How easy to stand in pomped circumstance
At least it was when carpets rolled
To cover cold grey with warm red
For writing’s sake we write
My pen now weak from comedic scripts
The nib shatters into keys
That chatter in clattering buzz
Feeding nought but new or nearly
Merely whitewashing peeling paint
Ink fades in such darling ways compared
To cheap type shining dull still
In clouds of words trending out
Spiraling without context alone
They proudly stand with prizes neatly labelled.
This knightly form does protest
from hat to hip platitudes jest
and evenings again bring no rest
as noble virtue by silence tests
Jaunty angle should not decieve
You are the one to whom I tip
Shy confidence in tandem with guilt
Pleasures the senses in promotion
Get giddy with the flow running
Through your streaming ears
Dance to my drum and promise
There is glory in these years.
