Reverse Thoughts;

This was a poem I wrote a long time ago. It was so much fun to write. I suggest that once you’ve read it, you read the lines backwards for a special little thing…..

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Society tells us we’re all beautiful When in truth The world is no more than a broken machine I refuse to believe Those people are right  “We’re free birds” Some say It’s not true They tell us We’re lost That factor will never be eradicated.  The glistening bronze of spring sunlight No longer definite A beating pain Vivid amongst a black sky The bliss of a new life Is transient and short lived Suffering Prevails all Hope It’s a constantly fading anomaly Silence If only we looked at things backwards

I went outside at 2am to do this and now my feet are fucking freezing. 

Thousand Lashes

The other lovers – and endless list. Lying likes lisps upon my tongue. Names, I refuse to repeat for fear of judgment from peers. Not practical in the slightest sense. Perhaps idiosyncratic in insanity’s eyesight. The dominant ones I desire to dominate. Remove them from positions of power with the obsolete force of lust.

Graceless bitterness – the only complete feeling; injecting sour thoughts into the crevices of jealous minds. Binds erode the skin of my wrists and tie me to burning chairs at the centre of isolated rooms. While the whip of the hose leaves no marks despite the thousand lashes.

Is there any escape from the synthetic machines I crafted within the twisted corners of my imagination. Once love, now only relentless envy for those I would never be with despite how much I tricked myself into thinking otherwise. 

d.w

I just posted a short poem that I wrote earlier in the year as a response to Robin Thicke’s controversial song, ‘Blurred Lines’.

white;

White is the ending of the book that changed your life.  It's the tip of the oceans waves  and the blanket of Everest. It's the colour of angel’s wings  and heaven's robes.  The paper beneath the Artists hand;  and the snow we dreamed we'd walk through arm in arm. White is the constellation of clouds suspended in summer skies.  The fabric of the wife's gown  and the weddings radiance. The core of blazing stars.  Left isolated in the harmonious drift of space.  Deaths fragile dress that spins in coastal winds  White is synonymous with the ink of the creators quill.  The colour scheme of the universes heart. And finally the hue of the elder's hair.  Who has lived and experienced  the beauty  of a passive existence.

When Eyes Meet Eyes

Eyes meet eyes and pulses sync. Breathing becomes unhurried -  as if your lungs were never beating  to begin with. Transient ripples taste the skin of your arms. Rushing across the hairs  that reach skyward. Nerves settle and anxiety is non-existence. Because the touch of their hands and yours renders distractions irrelevant. Only silence.  The tone at the center of the universe’s song You don’t need words. Words were never necessary. Because the string of silver that tied your heart to there’s vibrates with every burst of affection you felt 

e.v.

I am a warrior. A king with a voice that makes mountains fall. A fallen angel with wings stained with the flames of bigots. Of the intolerant bastards who refuse to accept that love is not defined by their standards.

e.v

Death is not the antagonist. It's life that fuels the furnace.

e.v.

Plain and desperate to be something other than that of which she has been assigned too. She seems irritated by the current life she leads and aims to join circles considered powerful in the social hierarchy. It’s irritating. She has promise in certain areas and yet she continues to fight to be heard by the dominant structures that tower above the common people that roam the buildings corridors. A talented sportsman, that much is never arguable. I don’t see why she’s not satisfied with the kinder group of friends? They’re decent– a stark contrast between the other’s she socialises with.

I struggle to see how he has acquired a position considered powerful in the professional structure of our group. He has never been trust worthy but apparently has talents in manipulative persuasion. I wouldn’t go far as calling him immature, however I feel his traits would bond well with that of 12 year olds. His humor is pathetic – and that feeling follows through to the majority of his personality. A hypocritical moron who it seems knows how to irritate those in his company. I’m thankful that I’m not alone in this observation and that others have noted his contradictory demeanor.  

he hates me he hates me he hates me and i have no idea why i'm surprised 

and then i realised -  secrets never stay secret;