‘Knowing That One Day, My Passion Could Fill My Bank’

‘Knowing That One Day, My Passion Could Fill My Bank’

Fast

I am not doing it for you,
I am not doing it to be part of a crew,
I am not stopping because you disapprove,
I am not stopping because of pain- I endure the rough and smooth,

Independent searching of my own soul and testing of my own will,
To better one’s self by struggling up the adversity ridden hill,
These are Testing times, and I am not afraid of adjudicators,
I instead favour results but not those owned by a fool with papers,
These results are soul felt and spirit known,
I therefore continue and never moan.

I am thankful I have the ability to do it,
This is the very reason I choose to fight through it,
Some doubt me as I haven’t taken the final step,
They cease to understand, I am training with no regret,
One day I will step into full capacity,
I am fully faithful that a sign will be shown in mass to me,
So here I stand, enforcing abstinence for what is relatively a short period,
The book says I am born to do this, so who am I to query it?

Laugh

I personally rate laughing as the greatest gift,
Whether given to put down or received to uplift,
There is not a single emotion, laughing cannot interject,
In a middle of a heat wave, a laugh could pause sweat,
I’ve witnessed unexpected death where a laugh broke the silence,
Unknowing then, but now understanding to release endorphins provided guidance.
Guidance of a kind that only an ‘Ital’ reaction can produce,
I have learnt to make a laugh out of anything you may choose.

Many have not taken the time to hear my comedic rhyme,
Or view when I have spontaneous slap-stick time,
Indeed many do not want to be part of laughter,
Opposing and instead immerse themselves in the incessant life of a grafter,
But my friend! I can only champion this,
A laugh can be sweeter than that of a kiss,
Thus for you to disassociate yourself from the phenomena....
Calls for diagnosis or prognosis not given via thermometer.


Open your Mouth, and then chest, and then lungs-finally the deepest is to open your heart,
By the end of the chuckle or snigger, you’ll have forgotten the problems you had at the start,
It isn’t Science nor is it Psychology, as much as they try to bother me,
This is one thing they cannot recreate or manipulate with their technology,
Nitrous Oxide holds no weight on this scale of importance,
This laugh is natural, and not in man-mad accordance,
I want to impose a 3 laugh a day rule on every one to make them stronger,
To laugh is to love and to live, thus it helps one to love live for longer.
Laugh until you lay your last day with a smile and never in sombre.

Life's Precipitation

It comes down, in just the same way it dries up,
Fill it to the rim-edge of the plated cup,
Locate the derivation of such events,
As knowledge can often be the best form of defence,
Although Ignorance creates a blissful existence,
The engine is on, but cannot move without TRUTH pistons.


As it pitters, it patters- creating bigger bladders,
Continuously repeated until filled up,
They want to be a dog before being a pup,
It's heavy and all encompassing,
Creating difficulty when at the one crossing,
Looking left to right with effected sight,
Bliss has disabled an ability to detect a plight.


Whenever it pours and plies us with its presence,
How long will it be until the expected evanescence?
Resonance results from rehearsed remembrance,
Struggling to get a hold of a tame temperament,
As you are soaked by the drops of the season,
You laugh, whilst I see no reason to tease them,
Accept it in its fullest form, whenever it greets you,
But never drink from the same hand that feeds you.

The Ultimate Aim

Why all this bravado, when everyone knows the ultimate aim?
You claim to despise competing, but continue to play the game,
Unnecessary introductory formalities,
When in retrospect you’ve thought about your knees,
And the depth at which you may angle your approach,
It is hilarious how they act a butterfly, but love to be a CockRoach.

It’s a waiting game, because right now would be deemed hasty,
Even though every ion of their brain cells tells them the Black Pudding looks tasty,
However those that defy culinary restrictions become exiled,
Thought of as too gluttonous and or too wild,
Or maybe unjustified Jurisdiction needs revising,
But simultaneously mortality and natality are both rising.
What do you champion?

If you want to do that, Do it!
One’s actions should not be bathed in the waters of another’s fluid,
Thus if this present time seems right and it’s not too tight,
Take a calculated and educated chance,
Stop standing in the posture of another’s stance!
I despise hearing regurgitations,
Mirrored vocal chords taken from others, causing alien reverberations,
I want to talk to you, not the voice of the majority,
Insure your actions belong to you, as life cannot be refunded by warranty.

(Title Is Revealed At The End Of The Poem)

I can’t breathe!
Pupils penetrate my surroundings for tissue,
BUT
Only find my sleeve,
I can’t stop this incessant throat palpitation,
Determinedly continue,
BUT
In my ‘heart’ realise the amalgamation,
Wakefulness, Work and Weather,
Dangle my resilience at its tether.

One was struck down so spontaneously,
Unprepared for this back-tear-area to be graining me,
Yes! Rough and controlled is the feeling,
As you no longer manipulate bodily functions, and instead await healing,
Of which kind and which time is unknown,
I attempt to verbalise, but can only muster a groan,
Someone shouts “A croak may be more apt”,
As I embarrassingly and uncontrollably sneeze at others with no tact.

I have got so many things that I need to do!
But I keep getting disgusted looks-
As they tell me I’ve got that thing that rhymes with loo,
I DO?
Never would’ve thought it or even had a whiff,
Here I was thinking-
It’s normal not to be able to breathe, but have this rampant sniff,
So, to Mr and Mrs. Point-The-Obvious- I give my in-sincerest thanks,
I just want these UK Weather induced demons out my body,
and to have a breakfast where I can taste my Chicken franks.


Double layered or Scented – Which should I pick?
Oh! And if you haven’t guessed yet- Yeah I’m sick.

A Friend

Are you a friend?
Do you support from start to end?
What is that which hides behind your face?
You all say "I'm there", but never turn up at the place,
Even when the place is a single leap from your nest,
They claim from the heart, but talk from the chest,
Never needed to invest,
Simply required to support this quest.
Now I couldn't care less!
That which was worried about previously- only caused to digress,
and mess the test, when in fact I am the best.
Self belief came like a shaken leaf,
Blown by the wind until it's peak was reached.

Attendance came in the most surprising way,
Those thought of as unknowing and even uncaring showed up on the day,
Unyielding distance travelled- unveiled REAL friendship,
As my heart revealed that I had been aboard the wrong ship,
Induced to jump off, like those thrown off of Leusden,
Or at least be better selective of how I choose them,
Mind sways to the idea of solace and separation,
Does one really need others for MY dreams whilst I chase them?
I decided negative,
Thus embarked on an individual way to live.

Progression becomes undeniably luminous,
With only two footsteps shown on the path that grew to this,
Not to imply that the destination has been arrived at,
But just enough miles covered to wink and tilt my hat,
Faith in fulfilling future provides the fluid to fill my tank,
Knowing that one day my passion could fill my bank.
So Are You A Friend?
It doesn't even matter to me anymore,
I will still strive and survive without you, as I had done before.

Thank You

I appreciate the love,
Such as a newly-learned bird revels in the sky above,
Into new open space for the first time,
Venturing away from my own perch-line,
I am too like a bird, but I never fly away,
Instead stay stagnant in frustration, so to not ply affray.

It feels splendid,
Saving a dying love by having the heart mended,
Heart of passion, passion of love, love of Creation,
From this impromptu gift, there is no relation.
The warmth of words holds an unequal sentiment,
Unique to the individual with every testament.

I owe you gratuity for taking the time,
As at times it feels my heart is shouting in mime,
Feelings unheard,
Thoughts deemed absurd,
But you paid attention,
And even if uncomprehending,
You still showed literary affection.

It's Not Right Is It?

It's not right is it?
That you can watch but never visit.
"You have many strings to your bow!",
Thank you, but it would seem that only you know...
I continue plucking the strings of aspiration,
cunningly on course for unconcious exasperation.

Pluck, pluck, Stuck, stuck,
Terribly tempted to state another rhyming counterpart,
but that would be class-less,
Misunderstanding the quest by trying to be the fastest,
The tentative steps of the tortoise should be emulated,
However the fable faces the facts that mark it dated.

One can search their whole life for a path of precision,
But yet end up dying WITHOUT rehabilitation in a prison,
Thus many ask why?
Why hold on to out-of-reach ambition?
When impossible is inevitably the mission,
minus script and camera lens,
It's not right is it?
that the beginnings differ none from the ends.

Anger

As fumes flow through it,
Thickening in it's precipitation,
Unable to control its swirling devastation,
Personified geological damage,
This disaster would implore a savage,

Red is the colour,
Head becomes the other,
These fumes are choking,
Throat is croaking,
Mouth opened –
to fire fume-filled flares,
NATURAL disasters always provoke stares,

Every glance is irking,
Any word leaves explosion lurking,
DO NOT DISTUB Disaster,
Leaving fumes alone, puts them out faster,
It is said devastation occurs to allow reflective learning,
But it's sometimes better to allow that flare to keep on burning.

Staring In Spite

He feels the heat of bad-minded stares,
Penetrating through the back of his mind hairs,
Unaware of why the starer wishes to beguile him,
Negatively- as malice takes physical form and starts to pile in,
What eyes cannot see, the soul cannot feel,
Ignorant to what awaits the end of this 'Last Supper' meal.

As he turns around they become eye to eye,
Unknowingly startled- he activates a smiling tie,
Friendship, comraderie, companionship are the mental assumption,
He knows not of the torturous twisted truncheon,
Ready and aimed at his oblivious opening,
The tree branch is set, as is the starer ready to rope him in,

He starts to feel the strain of spite affecting his life through vengeful verbal,
'Others' around him start to treat him Blue whilst they ALL pose purple!
He is flabbergasted and absolutely perplexed,
Unconcious to that which could have made them so vexed,
Slowly tracing the heinous trail of this planned pepetrated passage,
HE finds out HOW the starer wanted his demise to be massive!

Keep your 'back' eyes open and never you entrust just any one,
If that trust is authentic, that trust is to be won!

Why do YOU stare?

A Cup Of Life

Circular cylinder sitting and waiting,
what fluid do you hold your fate in?
Static in your kinetics,
Tacit in your phonetics,
Unprotected, malleable body form,
From you- hot or cold can be born.

Cylindrical circle we now have a tie,
But Oh!! how you love your area to have pie,
Work it out!
Berserk and shout!
I confused decimals for decibels,
Unable to comprehend the axis in the squared cells,

Cylindrical and Circular item of simplistic complexity,
Some touch and grab you so sexily,
Some cannot put you down,
Addiction becomes their noun,
As life induced intervals control their demise,
How can something so inanimate carry such a deadly surprise?

One-Away

You see you!!
You are a one-away,
Love the way in which you run away,
But never know a way, to find the way-
To get away.
Indeed having a way, around the way, we live around our way,
Is something of a way with curbs,
I prefer to indulge myself in a way with words,
Others want-away, and stay with the way of the ‘burbs.

You see them!!
They are one-aways,
It’s amazing the ways, in which I can gaze,
but never get lost in a daze, like my days, in Five Ways,
Birmingham.
I used to love take-aways!
but never could make away, to break away, from those ways,
I had to disengage, and leave this behind as it carried the most haze,
In a known place, as a known face, I found laze, that I left with most haste,
But in a new place, with new ways, I end up on roads with two ways,
That I had to taste, to place, and locate, a new mate, to submit to fate,

So now I bring, whilst I sing, about my ring, a new thing,
Thing being, that I’m seeing, a new me in, this ring as a black king,
Needing a queen, and an A-Team, and a theme, to base my life on,
I have now done, for my son, yet to come, like bread with a knife on.
Cutting edge,
I have now sliced my way through my confusion-like bushy hedge.
I am a One-Away!

Movement

I move smooth don’t I?
The rhythmic patterned steps I take,
Gliding with the ambience of the musical elements,
Unrivalled kinetic energy in unison with tune and tone,
Mind may stop, but the body refuses to do so,
Smooth, sultry- almost seductive,
Of whom however?
As being immersed in the beating vibrancy,
Eyes are closed.
I see nothing but the wavelengths of tempo and treble,
I feel nothing but the booming base that bellows.

Watch my arms and feet!
It’s as if each could belong to two different makers,
I do not control them, and I know that I cannot stop them,
Fatigue cannot either,
Once that feeling is felt, and that decibel is deciphered,
Nothing else matters!!
As swaying, stepping and impromptu wave like gesture take over,
Lip biting, head nodding, stern facing physicality,
I am not me anymore,
Conversely I am now in character,
Looking a passionate professional,
But really an amazing amateur,
Look!
Look How I move!
Come and share in this vibe,
Where we have nothing to prove.

Sometimes I Feel Like...

Sometimes I feel like I'm famous,
Only to realise- I am just another dreamer who is nameless,
I do a lot,
Done a lot,
Some has gone to pot,
Some, some have forgot,
Created some rather interesting end products,
But still I'm further from sitting right than your left buttock.

Sometimes I feel like a poetic whiner,
Pessimistic stories ending with a smart one-liner,
Does the whimsical nature distract from the repetition,
All I really want is some recognition,
Posting like pat on social networks,
Trying to show that which is on my neck works,
Appearing more like a white-gold-chain wearer on the curb with rhyme,
Many have shown doubt that MY words I write are truly mine.

Sometimes I feel like mauling someones face,
Brutal as a pit-bull with blood as my taste,
Counting to 10 as previously taught to me,
Then refrain from such inhumanity-
behaving like a full grown hyena caught loosely,
Many have never and will never know the rage I ride,
Suppressed through repressed emotion waves in tide.

Sometimes I want you to know me,
But most only like a certain side, you see?
So what am I to do- be inconsistent- as unstable as a faulty pole,
I have no other choice but to Jekyll and Hyde my way into multi-role.