Where do we go from here?

conforming from consciousness
easy, isn’t it?
well, it’s the norm, of course, get back in line…
take the medicine, eat that up, it’s good for you
my oh my, more please,that’s just what I required, or so I thought.
oh, we pretend that we create such exclusive, righteous personae,
Abercrombie and cunt.
conformance is like formation, a way of life, design, our paths that we THINK we should tread
I look to my peers who have the same struggles as myself, I wax lyrical, loathed by myself.
I stop for a moment to look about my surroundings and realise I’m writing drivel,
but,
fuck…
let’s have it right…
we’ve literally been conforming since consciousness, haven’t we?
it’s a question we can’t ask ourselves, that would be wholly ridiculous,
Tonight we dine amongst the mistakes we’ve made, look them dead in the eye….
STARE those fuckers out.
they are SCARED of you….
I bet you never figured.
Smile.

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Sheepishly speaking

The big wheel of life just keeps on spinning with every revolution a new generation who can barely grammaticise, let alone revolutionise.

What hope do we have…..?

Rise up my brethren, scrawl your hopes and dreams onto the walls of those who oppose you.

Use the blood of the morose who remain juxtaposed with the lies they have devoured.

Waxing lyrical just isn’t that typical to a lifetime of misled youth.

So I state again, join me on my mission, awaken the comatose…..

YOU ARE A LION.

Whatever

It’s ridiculous that poets try to make their words rhyme.

Who cares for form and progression?

I’ve strived to write drivel that will never be read, the populous would hate it anyway, even if my words were bled.

I write to be able to express my emotions through the power of words.

A society that cares more for celebrity status than literary credit, are we ourselves the cancer upon a society that we happily lament?

Stroll along in your life, young man, engulf yourself in the things that matter not.

Inform the world you have opinions that mean shit.

A celebrity world where in society is encouraged to deface itself……..

Make yourself thin,
Make yourself beautiful,
Make yourself meaningless.

A world where culture is at a loss, where you’re graded on your peers and whom you make acquaintance with.

Is this the life you wanted to lead, tis this the life you wanted your children to supersede?

Lead the life that you hate and in tow you will hate the life you lead.

Mug.

Love is all

Love is all – a poem by James Nixon, inspired by recent events and Jack.

A curve ball flying out to left field,
Knocks you off your balance

You re-adjust for the next,

The next chapter in the story,

A story of lovers, lives are paths, intertwining to the stars,

Love is all, we will prevail,

A slight blip to the psyche, an opening of the eyes to the bigger picture, questions are raised, answers are given, feelings are shown true,

Love is all, we must prevail,

Strife is real, clouded judgement, misty waters, only we can make them clear, a boat made for two, this river runs deep,

Love Is all, we shall prevail,

Hand in hand, brushed aside are things that matter not, dreaming of a future, staring at the cot,

We are love, we make our own luck.

Cast aside are doubts, worries, insecurities, a feeling deep down in my soul shows me the way…

Love is all, we have prevailed.

You look at me, I tell you it’s fine, it’s a slight incline but we have our own design.

Positivity pumping through my veins drives us on to a life less ordinary, where people come and go, but our love stays true.

Here’s a clue…

I love you, and love is all.

Dragged..

Dragged from the lowest of depths to the highest of heights,
coming into my life like a ball of light,

Oh, how she makes me feel I’m on top of the world,

Her eyes that look directly into my soul, her hair as black as coal,

Oh, how she makes me feel I’m on top of the world,

A smile that lights up my day, and a presence that resonates through a room,

Oh, how she makes me feel I’m on top of the world,

A battle set for two, it’s us against them

Oh, how she makes me feel I’m on top of the world,

Hand in hand, we’ll go through life, It’s no strife,

Oh, how I make her know, she is my world

On Deaths Door

it’s a funny thing, death, knocks at your door when you least expect it, or comes trundling along when your chewing on your cheroot.

We spend our days waiting for that moment, but when will it come? would it be easier to know?

The big sleep…

Are you sleeping…?

Or living days beyond your wildest dreams?

What are dreams?

A figment of our pathetic imaginations which invariably we live vicariously through?

A person that we’re not, or someone we long to be?

Who are we?

A person that we know, or barely even recognise..?

questions, questions, questions..

lies, lies, lies….

As we live we choose to revolt against authority, is death the widespread revolution against reality ?

One last beat snatched away from a slowing heart

One last smile,

One last thought,

This looks like the end of the line…did you enjoy the journey?

I’m not quite sure.

Same old story

It’s the same old story, without being so boring,

It’s not like jack-a-norey, it’s far less enduring,

Do you hate me?

Do you love me?

I don’t love myself, how could anyone else?

Self pity aren’t words I’d use, self loathing is far more apt,

The captain of a sinking ship, but I wouldn’t jump now,

That would be cheating,

Fleeting around with feelings unknown, who could say that I have grown….

UP. Now that’s where I’d rather be, but down, the logical aftermath that quickly follows, like a sour relation that you don’t hold dear..

I think I’m better off this way,

I’m trying to find myself, in the treacle laden land of despair,

Positive and negative, alfa and the omega, a ying to my yang,

That’s all we’re trying to unearth, no?

It’s a question to you all, the readers of nonsense, answers on a postcard, to who gives a fuck.