Finders Keepers

I found this wallet once,
It had so money cards, I felt like a financial dunce,
I kicked this wallet- all the way around the corner,
Emotion-less- with so many cards, the owner would be a RICH mourner,
I took the cash, split the rest with a couple of my no-longer-around bredrins,
I later came to understand myself and the situation, to be completely fledgling.

At the time I thought myself an Alan, Richard or even Donald,
Ignorant to the plight that waited, at the bottom of my story's funnel,
Flabbergasting how fast being a tycoon became being a tight fool!!
Gone!
Being a hundredaire only lasts so long,
Months passed, and I went from Richard to Glazer,
Only finding friendship in my stupidly expensive blazer,

Boxing Day brought about my birthday,
I was given gifts in the most special way,
Money!!
I invited so many 'friends' and some whom weren't too acquainted,
So happy my smile appeared permanent as if it were painted,
Maybe too happy, as it came to pass,
Thieves do not only arise out of grass,
Snakes rattle right in front of your face,
My Birthday bumper was taken right out of my room,
RAGE!! I accosted every single person I knew.

Not one to throw attachment and belief on superstition,
But one has to consider the theory of karma in such a situation,
I took from some one and only months later had taken from me,
Up until now, I know not the answer of who snatched the food from my tummy,
And I still keep many of the same 'friends',
I kicked the wallet and stole as a means to an ends.
But I could've picked and swallowed another man's Beans and eggs,
Moral being whilst I was a victim to someone malicious and conniving,
I didn't stop to think, what I possibly took from someone else striving.

Be careful whose wallet you choose to kick,
You might not like the reverse response of it.
KARMA IS INDEED A B***H!!

Hot Water

I like hot water,
The way it feels when it surrounds your body,
Regardless if it is as cold as a lonely alter,
Or so hot, the sun rays penetrate my lobby.
Hot water is unalterable- It always feels the same,
This feeling couldn't be bought at all, my emotions are never tame.
I sit for hours and no-one can infiltrate,
Aside from your wanted one, sweat profuse in a way only the gym could make.

I love hot water,
The way it warms me up, feeling shielded,
Stability is only a quarter,
No dirt- my alter-ego is what the tub has yielded,
Toe tops, finger tips, every sense is heightened,
Oxymoronically the weight of the heart is lightened,
I release in the hot water as I feel at ease,
Crass but cradled as I metaphorically fall to my knees.

Still warm, still hot- This is still the feeling I first got,
Stop this fake support! Looking imbecilic like a pre-mudded plant pot,
He wasn't born in this, he just came here and he got it,
Mentally regurgitating this warm water for one that is amniotic,
I hate Hot water, for how it has made me weak,
Skin wrinkled when I long-soak from head to feet,
This hot water was a loss of limbo temporarily,
Now it is time to get out and dry-step towards what was scaring me.

The Mind

Strange how the mind reinterprets ideas don't u think?
Strange how I ate, but you insist I had a drink.
Many cannot mind their own,
Many cannot avoid carbon, and hence become a clone,
We endure a legion of manner-less nations,
Bore from medial mental manifestations,
It's all very strange!
Replacement is chosen over the option to rearrange.

Exaggeration is naturalised if your standing is swayed,
Didn't you know, we were crafted and not just made?
Strangely I can tip toe but I can't crawl,
Strangely I can slate, but I do no good at all,
Mind over matter is the trite telling,
But back home in Black Rock, there's still yelling,
It isn't strange anymore when it becomes unjust,
Babies born- mind says love - reality says lust!

Strange how one can believe THEIR truth,
Strange how from this- I'm extracted, but you see a tooth!
Many cannot see past next week's omnibus,
Many cannot understand experience, past their monitors,
Thus you must understand this instability is not innate,
It is instead duped into craniums through the Medias we create.

Steps

As he step into realms of better but bitter conformity,
Ignorant to what belies and relies on him, in fullest enormity,
"We do what we have to do to get by!!"
A twitch of a smile, but still a tweak of a sigh,
Has he stepped forward a good few steps?
Or shuffled his cowardly legs away from what was REALLY next?
Arggggh!!
I despise the yellow walls that surround him,
Misunderstand the mindset that confounds him,
But understand the life circle he treads, as if I am a-round him.


He continues his graft sporting the occasional laugh,
But these new ones do not know him, not even a half,
The gritted teeth of fakery,
The swollen sore facial dimples of unauthentic joy,
Asked how he is, he replies "I enjoy what they are making me",
Automatic as a car- possessing less choice than a child's toy.


Dreams become visions, visions become blurred,
Sight is lost, deaf becomes you, and aspirations are never heard.
He could have got there! if he really strived...
In fact he still can- but one must not live a lie!
He stepped in to the herd, thus only he can move those same shuffling feet,
But to be honest, no one can ever help to move a paralysed sheep.


You control the steps you take,
Therefore be real to the life you make!

I'M TRYING!

I’m trying but you still cannot see,
I’m trying to be the best I can be,
I’m trying but my voice remains unheard,
I am instead muted such as that of a hunted herd.

I am not aimless with my illustrations,
Albeit that this creativity is fuelled by frustrations,
Irony becomes apparent in the finality,
Creation out of frustration, but frustration is the ending reality,
As words go unread,
Voice has nothing said,
And my physicality is dead,
Dead as my other attributes as one continues to fruitlessly strive,
Morale-bruising blackened like the skin of a banana fruit as I sit in strife.

I’m trying! but that which others see as my successes, I see as failures,
Trying to emancipate myself from mental slavery like the wailers,
I scream in the face of success!
All but crying in attempt to progress my quest,
BUT..
Success turns its’ back on me,
However I continue to coarsen my throat in plea.

I’ve tried but you did not see,
I tried but there is no best part of me,
I tried but my voice will never be heard,
I’ve tried but I have to succumb to the fact that my attainment is absurd!

It's A Madness!!

It’s A Madness!

Shuffling, shifty eyes questioning the measure of the skies,
Comprehension becomes lost in the iris of idle eyes,
It’s a madness!
How one’s pain can be transposed as gladness,
Smack this,
But don’t you ever lose scruples and to your life attach it.

Confusing my eccentricity for comedy,
Refusal to observe the disguised depression and see Roach commonly,
No one knows,
And like a perplexed phenomenon it irrevocably grows,
Why do you make that your choice of logic,
Only to incessantly apologise for dilemmas deemed rhetoric,
Madness, Insanity, loss of stability,
If one denies any of the above symptoms, may you choke on your dishonesty!

It’s a Madness personified,
But a rat-race exemplified,
Zealously finding an exit out of the box,
Desperately finding an access path to the cheese!
Hunting such as an English fox,
Evading ending up on one’s knees!
It would seem we are all susceptible to slipping into the abyss,
Thus, I take on the role of reality artist, as I choose to poetically paint this!

Is it Yours or Mine?

Is it Yours or Mine?

Is it yours or mine?
I say Halal but you opt for Swine,
Instigation of our present situation,
Different levelled standing was the implementation,
Self inflicted?
Or pertaining to a cotton coloured wish-list?
We walk in this concrete illusion,
as borrowers; to be owners would mark collusion,
Identifying the authentic ownership creates more conundrums,
To qualify is to be part of the supreme ones?
But.......who are Supreme?
How about those that contributed as the rebuilding team?


Consuming craft, culture and cooking relevant to your mind,
But alien to your tongue,
Attributed through experience as one climbs another foreign rung,
However, a given one?
Given when scouted to become brothers to THEIR sisters, over to our father land as a son,
WE gave to YOU, thus can we have a little reciprocation,
Appreciation?
Reparation?
Or just a little return?
Still lost in translation- YOUR speech I cannot learn!
And you ignore mine,
It would seem we will only ever converse from behind.


As much as you are lost,
Understand, We too are bewildered whilst we pray to your cross,
Doing as we were told,
Reminiscent!
Moving as we were sold,
The past is easier repressed,
When present society doesn’t still show signs that depress,
Thus to move forward takes admittance on both behalf’s,
Is it YOURS or MINE?
There is blame on both OUR parts.

I guess i should speak a little!!

Well i haven't really spoken or written a post that is me personally interacting with the reader, but i think that is the purpose of my poetry to personally engage the reader. Any how, i guess you should know a little about me. This blog though not extensively long, has been going for about 2 years. It was just a way for me to release the private love i had for poetry and give others a chance to read my thoughts and feelings, because that is what my poetry is, and if you know me- you will know that this is not a possible task to do with me as a person, as i have been told i am unreadable. I am 22 years old. I am a university graduate, i pursue acting, journalism and poetry as you can see here, in my life aspirations and vocation. I would like to encourage comments because whilst i love what i write, as it is close to my heart. I would like critical analysis from others; especially professionals. Well this was my first time to speak and already i feel i have spoken enough, so i hope you enjoy my thoughts and feelings and please do not be afraid to comment!

Aaron
(RoachMan)

Crosses

No matter how I try, I can’t seem to get them off of me!
A romanticised ending to a heavily laden struggle it was meant to be?
However for every scurried step I have taken,
In the manifested movement of fiddler crabs,
something seems to break the paving slabs.

I do so much and wish so positive,
Heart rejects the championing of plight on how others live,
So why does effort transpire as invalid?
Considered obsolete; wandering aimless on journeys deemed nomadic.
I have a path, however it takes on the form of Gaza,
Having to leap landmines in my own local plaza.

Why are they always on me?
Why cannot a premeditated action grasp fluency,
Instead of my own fortune trying to con me,
Ones sanity becomes delinquent- practicing truancy.

For every positive, two negatives arise neutralising possibility,
One can only continue, whilst embracing transparent humility,
But whilst exists a cross here and a cross there,
One will meander combatting with a structural sphere,
So try as you will with two intersecting enemy lines,
To stop progression and stunt the fire of ambition in one’s eyes,
All this will do is contribute to the flare of the flames,
Because while some oppose them with noughts as playful,
I refuse to partake in the games.

Is There Only One Answer?

There are many questions that require a fixed answer,
You ask for a leaf of my pad: I can only reply, yes master!
To refuse would be crass,
There is an expected protocol throughout the mass,
Mass population possessing limited stipulation,
Excuse me! May I request to pass you?
In a massive queue,
How about I say ‘No!’ waddle your way through!
Am I wrong?
They sing prose, whilst I speak poetic song....


Many cultures could and would demonise practice, that others do as traditional,
That which some see as nonsense bringing ailment, to others is medicinal,
I may belch here and you laugh as a normalised function,
In some places, this can be a compliment, while others would subject you to worse punishment than the truncheon,
I keep my eyes open and object on occasion to political correctness,
Protocol made by those that think they know, but have guessed this,
Why should I do this and answer your one way responsive question?
When you already know what is under the bird that is nestling…


Consistently I have been written off as insolent and disregarding,
Fighting 300 plaguing issues as the only Spartan,
I do not wish to disobey your instructive ruling!
It is the premise and basis that I find antagonistic and fooling,
Why if you see or know I have a utensil to borrow,
Do you have to ask? instead just take and return it as you found it tomorrow,
Would it be disrespectful?
Saying what one is doing, whilst one does it,
Apologising as there is no alternative, for uncomfortable nudging.
There are many questions that require a fixed answer,
However, a break in or from protocol would not mean disaster.

My 'U' Story!

Part 1

Would it be wrong to want to come out of ones own self!
Pulled by the tongue out of humane form in an act of stealth,
You cannot hear me?
Can you tell it is me?
Am I not the same?
Was coming out of myself an act in vain,
Metaphorically moulded a man of moral,
I am!
Quality of quirky and querying speech caused many a quarrel,
It did!
Transcend into transitional transformation,
I will!
Stop this love of linguistics! A useless infatuation,
Simplify to convention of my home tongue,
I can do both anyway! I’m sorry Mum!
So here I stood, confused as a caterpillar airborne,
Find somewhere new! I need to do!
To exercise my linguistic brawn!

Part 2

I found the place of my diction dreams,
But it is not as it premonitory and primarily seemed,
It’s not?
I again feel the closing clasps of conformity,
I am not the same; but I found one or two,
We can “roll”, do as we do!
I remember the reasons for my being here!
I look forward to personal fulfilment with slight fear,
Hold on!
This is not as I wished to exercise,
The doom of disappointment again opens its eyes!
It does!
Get on and grasp what I have been given a chance with,
I will!
Perplexes, vexes and depresses! Goes straight through the sieve,
It did!
I am useless; brawn is non existent! I was wrong!
Amassment of institutional aggravated arrogance! I should have performed my song!
I should!
No matter, I will go on!
To the end, take it all in; completely through the bong,
I finish! I scrape! I get through the terminal turmoil!
Metamorphosis is next! It will fix it!
It Will!
My choice this time, live for myself! Back to linguistics!
Yes I Am!

1 Hand

If I were 2 grab you by 1 hand,
Would you grant me the satisfaction of knowing that I am that man?
Am I the 1 to get to grips with that soft texture first?
Or are you deceivingly but amiably ambidextrous?
You assured me that, that hand belonged to me and only me,
Ignorance, arrogance: A fool 1 must be,

An example of ambidexterity like you, becomes universally luscious,
A smooth brown without tampering, with the long natural locks of a Libyan,
However you are doubled edged! Ambiguous as an amphibian,
Living two lives: above and below,
Am I playing the unsuspecting? above the water flow,
Do you have another that gives you different?
Wet and Wild, while I’ve become dry and consistent,
Land against Water, Left against Right,
My Love! You unintelligibly utilise both,
Separating only by day and night.

I wonder when we court and I escort you out, holding the 1 hand,
Is this a repetition spinning uncontrolled, such as the wings of 1 fan?
Am I the only 1 spreading you? Or is this largely unconscious such an albatross spreading its span?
Are we viewing entertainment that you have before?
You jump before it occurs, whilst I await the eyesore,
This has become asunder, invoking in me something uncomfortable,
I want the other hand, but you cover it as if it were something formidable.

I have only ever held the 1, but never 2.
It would seem this is how you separate. DO YOU?
I have become the loved up and all-giving fool,
Whilst you have rested your tail on a 2 legged stool.

Was I the only 1?
Not unless 1 is doubled against 2 in a sum,
YOU WERE THE ONLY 1!

Why did you lie?

Standing still, Thriving thrill,
Wondrous Shape, Windy shake,
Completely obsolete,
Unworried, untouched, like that of an un-born’s feet!
Sweet!?
Dubiously doubting, whilst noticing a sugary coating,
Sour is the inside thought and feeling floating.

Amazing anger, Veiled veranda,
What Vexes thee?
Is that vexation observable to see?
Hidden demeanour, Historic arena,
Sense of sentimentality,
But the nostalgia is deemed keener,
Clawing back to joyous when’s and where’s?
Cracking nails on every clutched member of the case of stairs,

Dire delusion, Finished fusion,
Dismembered position, Delayed petition,
Ignorance breeds frivolity,
Effort breeds quality,
Frivolity subtracted from quality equates to an effortless ignorance,
Assimilated and adapted into a normalised existence of high maintenance,
How it should be! Always has been!
Oblivious to the images other pupils have seen.

Dirty, Dirty, DIRTY!
No! Stop! Arrrrr!
Another, again, flat line,
Tiptoeing along the line of limbo,
Questioning which way to go,
You take it or shall I?

Invincible

Sometimes invincibility can be assumed,
However is it blinded by unauthentic clouded fumes?
Is one fooling their own self believing?
“I cannot be harmed or touched?”
Where in retrospect they are bringing their day closer to dusk,

Been through so much, hardly a scar,
Not a bone broken from an overturned car,
Warning from an unforeseen and seemingly unimportant source,
Will these “hard ears” be the dying cause?
Just Change!

Easier said than done, my friend!
Easier to let the scene “roll”, rather than change and amend,
Anyway invincible I am, as he were before,
But he was still hung, and for our sins he died for,
WOW!
Realisation of ignorance penetrates the soul, something foul!

Together I am, built by bricks,
Bricks are broken down: reductionist,
Turned back into cement textured thick,
Invincibility can never be personified, let alone presumed,
So invincible you may be, walking straight into your doom.

Shut Up!

Oi! Yo! Yeh! You!
What! Who? Nah!
Scheww(kiss teeth)
Hey! Come?
Me?
Yeh You!
Why?
Just come!

Why? Why?!
Hmm Hmm…
Why?
Ha Ha!
What?
This,
Nooo!
Yes, I am!
When?
Now!

Comes!
Goes!
Came,
Went!
Go away!
Nope!
Will never!
Why?
Where?
I don’t!

Come Back!
Do!
What?
TELL ME?
Oi, Yo! Yeh! You
SHUT UP!

Go: where?
Until: whom?
I: How?
Lose: When?
Time


To understand the poem: Look at each of the 5 words that start the last stanza. The capital letters that start each line make up the emotion/word that the poem is trying to verbalise.

Claim The Throne!

Go on then! Reach for it!
You feel you are the forsaken, but I ignore it,
Claim the throne?
Non-existent is the thread and pin, but still the fate is sown,
Go ahead, Claim your throne?
It is there for the taking,
Or is it you forsaking?
You that partake in internalised neurotic debating?


I have seen my throne,
I just cannot afford it yet, so I settle for a leather clone,
For the meantime,
However a year or two will bring about ‘ME’ time,
No! not arrogance,
Completion of hard work for a deserved success chance,
So can I claim the throne?
Hold on! ………
Wait!................
Do I want a throne?
Is the throne just an ideological and imaginary grasp on supremacy?
Opportunity for them to throw images of their superiority at me!


Go on then! You have your throne!
I only know one thrown, but the owner to you must be unknown,
Unrecognisable is the over-decorated throne you sit on!
Looking an imbecile, with all the bravado; on a chair that only a liar could fit on.
A real throne owner is a contradiction in itself,
As one with such status does not need public displays of wealth,
And whatever else it may be, or however else you wish to title it,
One deserved of such status, has a humble infinite seated bike of power and cycles it,
Allowing all people the opportunity to achieve personal success and might,
Thus, I do not need or believe in your throne, I’d rather opt for a seat on the bike.

Chucked Up

This pit is chucked up,
Knocked down, but she thought she was knocked up,
Incessant waiting while debating,
Fluorescent stating of negating
thoughts,
Playing exotic games resembling western sports,


Thoroughly chucked up until the end,
Fam! Its familiar friends fraying like thread,
Thought they were close, even familiar,
But your ideas were Freudian; initially perceived as sillier,
I cannot verbalise or vocabularise this anger,
An inclination to draw the turmoil and publicly display it upon a hanger,


Living in an eccentric world of imbeciles and Neanderthals,
Prematurely present in a word for future souls,
I harbour feelings and thoughts, as the only belonging,
Am I the only one not chucked up or is it to the same eccentricity that I am succumbing,
Chucked Up! I cannot manoeuvre over this anger embellished bump,
Searching seriously for the ascension of sanity, which has already sunk.


It’s Chucked Up!

Blessed

I am Blessed,
Knowing life awakes me when I rest,
The aptitude of understanding the extent,
Is dimmed and lessened by the rope length,
Only a weak man would do so,
But a stricken and struck down soul might not know so,


Blessed, one is with many a facet,
Caressing ones own plan with knowledge that is tacit,
Am I lucky? Or perplexed within one’s own self,
Self belief, selfishness or self premonitions of illusionary wealth,
Is this all we are interested in?
Is not self alleviation or achievement something to win?
Is a loser with wealth, wirelessly worshipped as the epitome?
Epitome of success? Well! Without happiness I pity thee,


Stay blessed; nurture one’s blessed present,
Acquire fulfilling joy, whether rich or a peasant.


Believe! You are blessed,
For thou art is to understand, a gift not used is a gift left,
Something left behind can never get in front,
Thus, regardless of how idle the nature of the baggage seems, it must be carried,
And you must feel the brunt,
If achievement was effortless,
Would then achievement be worth the strenuous hunt,
Hence Blessedness would not be a gift,
It would be something financially feasible,
Thus, use your individual gift, and remember to please yourself,
Because you will never please them all.

Unrest Spirit

My spirit is never at rest,
I am woken out of sleep jumping,
Sometimes with the heart stamping, let alone pumping,
Cold sweat, more than wet,
My spirit is never at rest,


I sleep face down,
However when occasional face up is manoeuvred,
What could possibly be touching me?
Sleep is never resumed,
My face seems caressed,
That which seems napping nonsense,
Awakens, as I do into present occurrence,


Why is my spirit never at rest?
I jump, I twist, I turn,
Never more than an hour passes, before I spiral back,
Back to normality, sub conscience knows better,
A visit from Freddy, A visit from Curtis,
Two figures of importance but also love,
So why would this unrest my sleep?
Why am I forced to flinch, but not to speak?


Eyes cannot close completely peaceful,
I am bound for binary disturbance,
I wake or worry,
Each time, never similar,
Apart from when I fall endless,
This has been repeated since my yelps were younger,
Only now, after the supposed or proposed dream death……
I wake in hunger??
Why is my spirit never at rest?

You just sit there don't you???

You Just Sit There Don’t You?

You just sit there don’t you?

Never mobile, never a caring stare,

Never do you fear a tear,

Or share the flare,

Or shed a tear,

You just sit there don’t you?

Comfortable, not a single worry to bring woe at all,

Woeful we are,

Independent but interdependent of your contemporaries you are,

Still, standing, Steadfast, stolen in stance,

You are not yourself now,

You are borrowed, taken, oblivious to your spontaneous life expectancy vow,

Your mine, all mine,

Keeping your body clean and making your nose shine,

I do it presently,

Through the said shared flare omnipresent in me,

You just sit there don’t you?

Envious one is of you,

Especially the way you are endless and blink-less with view,

I try to just sit here don’t I?

However, I am always noticed,

Sticking out like the only pupil in a group of eyes,

Throw this,

Yes it is my heart,

However you just sit there, never here, always a hand length apart,

I Love You!

Sit as you wish,

Never be abyss,

Reliable as no other,

Don’t know your sex, but I swear you’re my brother,

Ignorantly had one, ignorantly lost one,

But you stay stationary, excuse the pun!

Paradoxically, lyrically, you are my friend,

So you just sit there don’t you? my emotion filled pen.