Tag Archives: poem

Clothes Line

Peeling off layers of clothes as if they were a bad day,

thrown into a hamper as if it would just go away.

Yet they’ll keep coming back no matter how you try

As the washed out clothes are strung up to dry.

But don’t fret, the sun has made of them a clean slate

Washing pain, blood and the tide of hate.




Tinsel, Lights and Songs to Hum


“You stare, seeing yet not

but feeling all the same.

And the streets are lined with tinsel and lights,

the beating of a drum running in your veins.

What a time to be alive,

When your soul is slowly reined.”

So this month has gone by in a whirlwind and with it came tidings both good and bad. Mostly an internalized juxtaposition but projected nonetheless in less than elegant means. If there is such a thing as a quarter life crisis, rest assured that is what I’m going through. Too many questions about the future are making my head ache.

Nonetheless, here’s some music to ride the wave, if like me, you chose to use music as salvation from what can be best described as a monotonous routine. You’ll find it just as jumbled of a mess as my thoughts, I suppose.

  1. Alive by Sia
  2. Dance of Dragons by Ramin Djawadi
  3. Believer by American Authors
  4. Lay it All on Me by Rudimental feat. Ed Sheeran
  5. Happiness by IAMX
  6. Infinity by One Direction
  7. Stay Alive by Jose Gonzalez
  8. Hiding by Florence + The Machine
  9. Never One to Complain by The Night Terrors of 1927
  10. R.I.P 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood
  11. Desire (Gryffin Remix) by Years and Years

Day 12: “create.”

Prompt: Write a poem based off of a tweet.

This got me thinking…



Incisors gritting

against pencil tips

A fury of pages,

pale as alabaster,

murmur “create.”

The crooning

of artistic thrum

sadly does not translate.

The psyche is left

painted instead

in colours never


in colours that

can’t be


The Spoilt Spoils

This is dedicated to all the kids who pick through the trash hoping to find something magical within it. Because they’re still kids and they still believe in magic.

The Spoilt Spoils (X Marks the Spot and it leads right to the DUMPSTER)

In the outskirts of the city

Lay a mound of treasure

Three boys stood before it

Its value they could not measure


Before their dull eyes, was a sparkling array

Of rubies, diamonds and gold

Gleaming with wonder and promise

For one and all to behold


But no one else could see it

Only these lads went on and on

About how they’d hit the jackpot

And they sifted through it till dawn


And do you know what they were staring at?

A rotting pile of trash

For these boys are rag pickers

Their survival stemming from ash

The Dedicated Order

Afore written letters of love

Bestow upon my heart, instill

Circadian rhythm of joy until

Doomed it comes full circle again

Existential remnants of threaded thought

Forge their way into my restless mind

Granting me the allowance to leave behind

His pestilent lingering hold on me

Infinite pockets my soul can fill

Juxtaposed amongst pennies of pain

Knell like sound as they chorus

Like coins of small, petty change

Mercy illuminates the kindred spirits

Nullifying the egregious slashes

Often worn by unsuspecting masses

Perhaps we’ll learn to love again

Quintessential cure to the common heart ache

Romance is consumption and consumption in turn

Signifies the nearing of an end, the time to learn

To learn the right way to love, to love the right

Upscale your feelings to love what is beneficiary

Vocabulary of love is embedded in literature

Written by those who cannot express

Xeroxed from their experience

Your love is beautiful though others cannot see

Zig-zagging to others in perfect disharmony