you make plans
you follow them through

you smile when told
and avoid confrontational strangers
apologising with an excuse
they will soon eat their words.

chances are,
they’ll never notice
you have long given up,
on following through
with your promises.

chances are,
they’ve long given up
on you.


Yep It’s Me

the glow you radiate
can dazzle
just as much
as it can

your admirers
don’t mind
they like their scars
to know
what your favourite colour is

today its black

they no longer
prefer blue

you get a pat on the back
for brainwashing
a couple more addicts

your sleep is just as sound
as the Glock
they’ve purchased
to make You


Life’s Lemons

holding echoes with borrowed hands
you plan ahead, just like they told you to

the rips in the sky bemuse the thoughtful clouds
savage Ravens weave through dreary rainbows
with no intention of relocating their homes

how many fingers does it take to accuse the innocent?
truths oppress the principles of the opportunists
they believe what simplicities prophesise

you burn with the anger they’ve made you feel
and partake in heated arguments with the fallen stars

under the ancient Lemon Tree,
hope has been planted below its citrus scented perils

clawing at the delusions dusted into the soil
the dirt under your fingernails is proof of your attempts
to turn the tables, into logical placements


Exits and Entrances

She complains
About the narcissists
Admiring their reflections
On fragments of time

Their preoccupied gazes
Disregard the souls
Trying too hard
To fit around their ideals

Timed applause, contradicts
Her forced subtleties
Their perplexed admiration,
Comes in the form,
Of standing ovations

Alternating realities
With the beautiful,
Ensures a conveyer-belt
Set on delivering
Sought vanity

Title inspired by:
William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 2/ Scene 7
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances"



Beneath your feet

Mistakes shriek

Louder than uncertainty

Unbalancing your footing

You avoid the holes

Carefully seeking security

Moving in and out of exposure

Your limbs coordinate unsteadily

This dance routine puffs hysterics

Through mirrored floors

Abandoning smoke signals

Looking for the safety net

Trust is entwined around their connections

A hand sticks out in front of you

You refuse to take it

And plunge gracefully into liberty


Shackles of Labour

the process of becoming a slave to your white collar
requires a trade you seek to
you cannot live for a living, without an ounce of mortality

self fulfilment is contained inside,
envelopes stuffed with blank cheques
bonuses are the oxygen of your work ethic

kaleidoscopic co-workers mutate around your vision
which stretch of flesh belongs to whom?
you perform mandatory chores with these strangers
you compliment them on their new vehicles
and ask about their families

who the hell are they?

names are just a necessity
their salaries label their exteriors

a shift works around your regulated heartbeat
the weekend arrives on a Friday evening
a handshake is in order

a lethal plague of idleness
ensures the levelling out of weekdays
and all hours merge into one incurable sick day
with no room in its diary for recovery


Angled Morals

Golden rays shone through her aged windows
Drawing patterns on the blood splattered walls
The intricate spirals burned holes through her eyes
The sun tinted screams she saw,
Enticed her soul from its pitiful depths

His promises drew temptation from her lips
Wrapped in a blanket of despair,
Fixed under her blistering greed
She denied the resurrection of her heart


The jars lined on her shelves
Contained precious butterflies
Their delicate wings fluttered silently
Everyday she would set one on fire
She no longer felt the need to name them

All her visitors hung serenely from her ceiling
She never knew what to do with them

Everynight when the sun set
She wrote poems she could not comprehend
And glued them happily to her walls


Vague Loopholes

swinging from the sky
reality solidifies with height
exhaling memories you’ve tried to conceal
your feet never did belong on the ground

unbalanced on conventional spaces
you cannot remember why the interior of your dreams,
remained un-breached

there were no ladders spiralling towards fate
no steps to carry you towards your possibilities

you will remain where you had attempted recovery
balanced on that gold podium of humiliation
safety had never been a priority

you had eagerly
two capsules of deception

you painfully extract fear from your shell
and put on a brave face to size up your doubts

you come to the conclusion
that your idealistic answers
came too early for the questions,
they always did


# 1 (apparently)

you did not understand my intentions, you said,
did my ulterior motives get the best of you?

maybe, just maybe, you were looking for a distraction
from your flip sided TV set
the static did much more brainwashing
than the blaring voices
and the irregular faces on the screen

I could tell you what I told them
that, this is just a game,
would you have played along?

a game was what you needed
you may not have wanted it,
but you needed it.

I knew you better than you knew yourself.

your friends told me
you just weren’t the same

for what it’s worth
I did warn you
you assured me you were paying attention
but you didn’t hear me say:

everybody is disposable.


Their Introspect

Intensity does not coincide with happiness.
Just wait. For the despair after a blissful encounter
To set up home and dwell in misery.

An earthquake would correspond with fear
Fear puts cracks into the pavement. Fear makes the news.

With one catastrophe after another. There is no time to breathe.
Everything is running backwards. The hazards couldn’t be smoother.

Once everybody realises reassurance is just a word.
And that you never really forget anything.
Your emotional state of mind will give you the answers you require.
Maybe, without even any hassle.

If you don’t complicate the situation
With a clouded conscience,
And bitter reproachfulness.


Systems Of The Briefed

Routine will destroy them.
Everything had been placed,
Into an order of importance.
Right at the bottom of the list,
Death is their final commitment.

Existing within a synthetic cage.
Withdrawn from societies blunders.
Beneath those protective eyes.
Deliberately concealed,
Memories could not escape here.

The ground pulsed,
With the sound of dismayed drums.
Sacrifice hung in the air.
Someone had broken the rules.
The fire met their downfall,
With determined heat.

You could see the flames for miles.
But nobody heard the laughter.

Nobody ever heard the laughter.



Into impulsive openings
Would be easier
If her existence
Did not necessitate
But those troubled eyes
More than they should
About a lost soul
Who wanted
To vanish
Towards a place
Where the boats
Were just as manual
As her heart