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.

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!