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The Template of my Being

Been there

Done it

Eaten it

Drunk it

Almost drowned in it

Nearly died

 

Praised it

Cursed it

Dodged it

Traversed it

Just you name it

I’ll have tried

 

Smoked it

Snorted it

Been traumatised by it

Reduced to tears by it

Laughed and cried

 

Run it

Walked it

Chased it

Caught it

Wished I hadn’t bothered s...

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drink   drugs   cash   drown   dying   praise   cursing   smoking   snorting   trauma   tears   laugh   crying   walking   chasing   trouble   strife   tedium   grab   nab   hate   love   raucous   weirdness   drunk   ambition   headache   suntan   feelings   hurt   songs   taxis   failure   spirit   imagination   time

Animals

The Fury
Pitiful the morsels for the feeding of the rats,
Dished out unemotionally by vicious little cats,
Like vermin, out the rats they come and scurry back to hide,
Whilst all the while the fat cats feast voraciously outside.

The Persecuted
In the darkest corners of the high walled city streets,
The rank and rotten souls of human waste claw to compete,
Shuffling through th...

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animals   holocaust   death   persecution   racism   hate   greed   poem

You can't Streep poverty under the carpet... - NaPoWriMo Day 9

A silence fell upon the city,

contorted shadows twisting moonlight.

Stuttering in a speakeasy seemed so misplaced

bottles rattled flickering like Fedora feathers

in an unforgiving wind.

 

The wretched odour of deprivation

a stench that sticks and degrades ones existence.

Even by day this city remains a lifeless sap

and by night the vampires feast on th...

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Politics   Humanity   Mobsters   Banksters   War   NaPoWriMo   Global   Thatcher   Maggie Thatcher   Margaret Thatcher   Film   Film Noir   Noir   Prohibition   America   Britain   1930s   1980s   2013   universal   poverty   politicians   exploitation   inequality   hate   division   celebration   class   Class War   victory   battle   struggle   cooperation   cohesion

Humanity Lost

I freeze,
And fall to my knees.
The earth is cold tonight, my sight
Is sorrowed as I place my hands on its frozen surface,
No furnace to warm me, but bereft.
Here, on the borrowed hour
Of my death.

The frost seeping through my clothes
Chills my bones, I am lost here, alone.
The precipice in front of me is wide, and deep,
But full. I keep my head dipped,
Knowing they wat...

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death   fear   hate   holocaust   humanity   poem   racism   war

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