Don't think about how it makes you feel
And then use the most powerful words you know to portray it
Don't write a line, then use rhymezone to fit in with your ******* couplets
Don't use the flowery words of dead poets
Thus
Glimmer
Hope
Love
I've seen these rearranged a thousand times
Fruitlessly
Write it how it is
If it is beautiful
Then so will be the thing you write
It is the only way

Lacklove and manless in Moloch
Vile ******* in Moloch
Moloch
In whom I set disinherited
Dispirited
Listing to Arvo Pärt
As civilisations wax and wane around me
As towers are raised to the sky
Left to rot
Then lived in
As the furnaces of the world whirr on incandescently
And as I try to use long words to make it all seem better
And as words finally fail

Let's transcend this sad world baby
Just you and me
Past the sidewalks
And shrinking patches of green
And ministry of sound compilations
And the weight of infinity on our backs
As we circle one of the 300 billions stars in our galaxy
In a universe of 170 billion galaxies
Just you me and a mattress baby
That's all we need

"I want to write the last banned book"
You used to say
And you bullied people with your words
Your ability for words
Your way with words
But you never read the silent people
Who couldn't find the words
That you used so liberally
You never tried to translate their
Solitude and turmoil
And you ended up writing
Some of the many
Forgotten
Strings of words

As the black girl in front of me leans into the window
I wish I had a camera
Her reflection is forming a double exposure
Of her sad eyes
On a background of fleeting metro lights
Next to me some girl gets slapped
And is then restrained by an old man as she claws after her attacker
There are two Japanese tourists
They seem disappointed
Some guy is staring at me
And tries to nod a bit when I look back
There is also this kid with pale white hands
Half asleep and hiccuping into his lap
Looks like he might throw up at any moment
And in the midst of all the arbitrary existence
I'm sat looking at the sad black girls reflection
And a kind of perfection forms

Life is like the M25
Circular and eternal
Covered in tarmac
With little skid marks
And Little Chefs
Life isn't really like the M25
Nothing is really like anything

There is genuinely a poem on here
Called "My love for you is Like Violin Dubstep"
And it's fine that people don't read my ****
If it's the people behind such artless crap

Somewhere in the path of my life
That noise in my head got tuned down
I started getting good nights sleep
I started to be able to concentrate
And control moods better
Started being on time for things
And I started eating couscous salads
And other things middle aged Guardian readers eat
The epitome of adjusted

Then you came along
And the noise in my head came back
And I lost all those things
But it's ok
It turns out the noise in my head
Was music

As I dip my rod
In a vat of excrement
I wonder
What made me
like this?

Yesterday
I heard a street preacher
Ask a man
If he had found god
And he replied
"I have money and health
I don't need god"
This struck me as very true
And
I wasn't sure who I hated more
Out of the three

In the cold dead of space
The voyager one
Floating forth
With dark was the night
By Blind Willie Johnson
Engraved onto a gold plated disk
In its belly
So fitting

Too many people write about love
without being right about love
Full of
yet tight on their love
Spewing
an echo of flowery 19th century poetry
When the real love
is a point of view
It's looking back on that girl you hated 5 years back
with a new eye
It could just be a cat purring in your lap
It could be a warm fireplace
or a ******* you gave in Chiang Mai
It could be the ocean
or it could be that time when you collapsed in a gutter in New Orleans
and you lay in the trash
but looked up at the stars

Ever since you left me
I can see ends built into beginnings
Everywhere
You ******

The late worm
Misses the bird

There
isn't even the shadow of a heart in there
is
There?
Love
Is an old shopping cart
in
a stagnant lake to
you

If only you could read between the lines

Outside I have no influence
People are born where they shouldn't be
Objects of consumption end up in gutters
Chemicals that will slowly erode me
Are put in the drinking water
A handshake seals the fate of some low lying town
Which is to be flooded for hydroelectricity
The chaos creates a fjord with a great variety of fish
Until catfish take over and an algae that wasn't meant to leave a laboratory in Italy takes over and makes the water toxic
People wrestle with notions that no one else will understand and that none of the many world dialects can express
Dogs **** where they shouldn't
And it is only a dim reprieve in a cavernous darkness that I know the order of my shampoo bottles
Or that a weeks worth of muesli lies in one of my cupboards
Or that my scarf hangs on that chair by the door
And yet the landlord
Is a vulture
That is trying to take
This last scrap of rotting meat
Away from me

I'm unhealthy, badly
You see..
Rotting, sadly
And I'd take you back
Gladly

Grindin'
With the cogs
In Moloch
When we could be diving for pearls

If you leave me
I will send you poetry
And if we marry
And you leave me
I will send you poetry
And alimony
And if your new guy beats me
I will still send you poetry
Your bones could leave this sad world baby
And I'd just switch to elegies

I knew you well
And I can picture you right now
On your own
In your room
With only your beauty
And be pretty sure that you are just there
On your own
With only your beauty to keep you company
*****
And writhing miserably
Sometimes
But not mostly
And I'd have liked you without your beauty
But you are there now
On your own
With only your beauty
But your beauty was nothing in the end
Really

I'm doing good now
Settled down
With wifi
A phone
A house
A good amount of food
I've stopped smoking
And taken up jogging again
And there is no one on my horizon

But I can't ******* write

I lost myself between your limbs
But found myself in your smile

World that's not real
Love.
Love that's not real enough for me.

Hollow sound
Distant voice
Tense strings

Love that's not real enough for me.

Resonant chimes
Brooding bass
Drawn out *****

Thank you Gloria Ann Taylor

It's a shame my head exploded
The day I met you
In front of those dinner guests
On that tinder date
My mind was blown
It's a shame that you were disfigured
By the shrapnel from my skull
It was going well for once
It's just a shame that my head exploded

You're going to die
But there's a list of the 30 best cat selfies on buzzfeed
Something is going on in Ukraine, or is it Venezuela?
But it's ok...
Sherlock is back on
And you haven't finished Game of Thrones yet
God is a twisted sadist if he exists at all
But you have some notifications on Facebook
Don't think,
Just pick up the phone and play Flappy Bird
Let the feelies get to those thoughts that creep in

The revolution wasn't televised
It was tweeted
And its auto-tune remix went viral the next day

Do you get angry
When others
Don't abide to your moral code?
Because we all have one
And no one is right
From mother Theresa to Charles Manson
And then we die

And the radio did play
As you sank deep into your chair
With eyes that said
Let the robots take over
Then the grass
Then the fire
Over and over

Me and my brothers
We are raised tall and defiant
We are rallied and railed against
An apathetic world at which we spit
We spiel our ululations to the night sky
Our candles burn at both ends

We rise to get broken
Here comes ocean
Icarus wouldn't be a legend
If he hadn't aimed for heaven

We are born with the capacity to love everyone
To find anything sexually gratifying
We are conditioned otherwise
**** condition
Seek to deregulate
Seek to push
Seek to love

There will always be a gap between what I say





And what I mean

It's hard to know when to call it a night
It might never be
But hold me
Let's see

build towers with your thoughts
and watch them crumble down
between chaos and order
balance can't be found

The introvert
Felt shooting pains up and down his arm
It was a heart attack
But he had no one to call
And he died

When I drink
My third eye
Weeps

I hope we die simultaneously

Threadbare and naked
Shattered in ruins in front of you
Cold trembling leaves of your autumn
To my naive spring
Here
All I ask
Is for your limps
To unhinge
For you
To let me in
For me
To loose myself
To you
For however long
That may be
Take this longing from my tongue
And all the useless things these hands have done

Like spit in the fire
Like seed in the snow
******
And a solemn me

It's ok to smile once in a while
it can sometimes make you laugh
it kind of just feels good to do it
It's ok to think of life as a joke in these moments
because you need a good joke to laugh
at
this
****

Didn't want to make a splash
In those days when we were
Strapped for cash
And we lay indolently
Took things intravenously

Don't want to make a splash
As I skip stones on your lake
But If I leave a wake
Then baby ride the waves I make

My friend has a stain in his **** bowl
And it's a bit disgusting
But at least it gives you something to aim for
And it's always good to have something to aim for
Even if it is just a stain
In a **** bowl

The blues is hot on my heels
But if I keep travelling it stays a step behind
And if I drink and smoke it hides in the shadows
And sometimes when I listen to music
It invades me
And finds a good spot
And sits comfortably
For a while
But then it finds me again
Because man is made to suffer

Sitting in room 203
And can't sleep
Sitting upright
Staring at the door
With unfocused eyes
Imaging true love on the other side
For so long
That I can almost picture it
I edge towards the door
Just in case
Turn the handle
And sear it

Smoke bursts through
And crackling flames invade the room
I choke on the fumes
The hotel is on fire
I guess I was right

I Love my baby
But my baby is bi
She loves me too
And girls on the side

I dont know what made her
Live through this dichotomy
Maybe it's her DNA
Or maybe society

I feel no kinship with gay culture
Yet I am a *******
I feel no kinship with the heterosexuals either
Yet I lust after unhinged limbs in the dead of night
And I look for a concrete self
In unobtainable categories
That allure and allude me
And 300 people have been sentenced to death in Egypt
But I'm thinking about where my **** goes
And writing poetry about it

These French keyboards
Have the n's and m's all mixed up
And you end up typing
Facebook.con
I like these French keyboards

Every morning
I shoot through miles of tunnel
In a rattling tram
And people have forgotten how to look out of the window
At the fleeting lights
Which highlight
The graffiti
Which highlight
The primordial urge to create
Which has morphed
From the cave paintings of bison
To territorial pissings
Of equal splendour

People try to avoid eye contact
Look at their shoes
And everyone wears a shade of blue or brown
Blandly coupled with something black
But I stare at the tortured faces
Dominated by Moloch
Who is slowly branching his tendrils around my ankles
And I try to guess their stories

The poetry
It has spilled
Like the blood of a great massacre
And it has diluted
To a near transparent film
Over the 21st century
Over Miley Cyrus' ***
Over grotesquely distorted salaries
It lingers in the grey concrete behemoths of utilitarian cities
It's on your cat
It's in your parents hair
It's in Angela Merkells teeth
And this omnipresent film
That only few can see
Is evaporating into a backdrop incandescent beauty
It's vaporising into an intoxicating nectar
It's what slavery was to the blues
Or the reconstructions of war to bauhaus
Or what the crusades were to the renaissance
So twerk on Miley
Your artlessness
Makes art stronger by the day

My best friend was a dog called Hermes
And he's long gone
And a wise man once said
That love is a dog from hell

I am an extension of some primal will to survive
But something bigger in here
Is asking
Why

If you want to love,
Knock your head with a rock
Until you are blind
To blaring truth