Forgive my hyperbolic phrase
He said
‘Tis the burden of the poet
You’re just a pretentious cunt
She said
And don’t I fucking know it
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
Forgive my hyperbolic phrase
He said
‘Tis the burden of the poet
You’re just a pretentious cunt
She said
And don’t I fucking know it
Most days the process is simple
Words flow as easy as the pain
But I feel so numb at times
That when it comes to rhymes
I doubt they will ever flow again
The Writer’s Anguish
I don’t
think
I have
anything
to say
Today
Perhaps
there
will be
more
sorrow
Tomorrow
So
I will
wait to
pick up
my pen
Then
For
I fear
I wouldn’t
even
know how
Now
(Originally Posted 25.01.2020)
“The darkened space of The King’s Head downstairs room. Tuesday nights are set aside for poetry.
Every week they discussed the purpose of poetry in modern society, and every week they came to the same conclusion.
That poetry is enlightenment.
It’s questioning the norm, to try to find an understanding, to push forward ideas, to discover half truths, to open a forum for debate, to bring people together.”
– Sean Hughes
I don’t understand why
He said
In this day and age
You’d go back to Floyd, Mac and Drake
To ignore the beauty
She said
Of those who’ve gone before
Would be a big mistake
I’m neither little
Nor quite charming
In fact my words
Can be most alarming
But the friends I’ve made
In different ways
All serve to brighten
My darkest days
So thanks to you all
For reading my shit
It warms this dark heart
Just a little bit
In
order
to keep
what is
rightfully
mine
There’s
no other
choice
but to
retire
online
If we
could
meet
We’d
drink
a brew
And
maybe
share
A
laugh
or two
Yet we
would
know
At the
end of
the day
What
connects
us both
Is
life’s
decay
Vocabularians of the world unite
To put the wrongs of our world right
To give a voice to those too tired to fight
And into the darkness bring forth the light
I
scroll
through
your words
And
realise
mine don’t
compare
For
you all
write so
beautifully
Whereas
I splurge
without
a care
I could
never
write as
fancilyAs
many
others
here doI just don’t
have the
talent,
franklyFor much
more
than a
fuck you
When you’re down
And feeling shattered
Listen to those who are kind
They are the ones that matter
It’s easier to connect with other artists these days than it is to any of my friends.
It’s because we understand how shit things are, I think, when the madness descends.