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

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   death   greed   hate   holocaust   persecution   poem   racism

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

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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