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)
Thursday 29 October 2009
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.
Wednesday 11 February 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
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!
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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?
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?
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