PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The clock ticks across the waves of time,

I count them, watch them, wishing I could 

change the course of time,

Crest, trough. Rise, sink. Tide in. Tide out.

I fell from the cliff into the waters below,

freezing, sinking; the roots I had gone.

All things blurred; salt steeping into wounds,

I'm a relic of an era long gone. 

And I can't turn back time. 

The storm rages on and I suffocate

in the depths, dark and deep, 

dislodged out of time, 

days gone. Dimmed. 

And I can't turn back time. 

A pyre, past lit, 

A catalyst to combust or

A path, of possibilities, of 

probabilities. 

Time consumes, the tide comes.

The fire within, held close and tight,

The only thing to keep warmth, 

Stare at the fiery beacon, 

and learn to yield the inferno. 

Don't let the flame consume you, 

Lest it burn you back to the depths,

Don't the fire go out,

Lest time claims you forever. 

Mimic the light in the distance,

so far gone and stolen away,

To a place that cannot see backwards,

But still a beacon for pathfinders,

And I'll use time instead. 

Burn, contort, shape, and meld

the future to your will, and 

blazing into the future is now 

all I can do. 

Paper trails troll troubling trends into contempt of the truth.

Discount viscounts will turn a rogue rat to a mouse.

No cheese, just smoke them out.

Blow them away with a flash sale.

Beyond the veil is a marriage of malcontent and a desire to fix.

Every troll has a bridge.

Who will hang who with the rope used to support it?

Will you pay per trail that you choose to follow even if it brings sorrow?

Will you step on old branches and leaves in the forest of tomorrow?

To scuttle as a borrower or play possum?

Stiff as the floorboards that formed your house.

Are you leader or louse?

Docile or doused in gangster or grouch?

Is it a straight fight for what you have inside or what you put out?

Sometimes those with those with the most beef will claim vegan for clout?

Sometimes we claim our walls are full of beauty yet we paint them with doubt.

Then we redecorate them and redecorate them until the paint tinge is all we are

So much more

Did you think you could

swing me back

on a tidal wave

did you think I would

be so lonely

that something

was better than nothing

I just want to

turn the world

upside down

Did you think you could

pull all the strings

say all the words

to make me dissolve

I’m coated in armor now

I have a hand to hold

I just want to

make you write

I’m more than mine

Did you think you could

pull the scared

out of all the alleys,

make me into a mannequin

to post all your lonely

upside

downs

I am walking

I am searching

there’s too many things

I haven’t seen

Did you think you could

laugh till I was silent

no, where I am now

I make sound that’s

more than sound

I’m just waiting to

turn the world

upside down

My heart is weary, and my soul goes numb.

There's frost around me, in the shade of blood.

Seven bodies had hit the ground, with many tears, floating all around.

Their names are written upon their faces,

"fear", "loneliness", "lies", "bravery", clumsiness", and "grace".

The seventh body, though, is still warm,

And his name is "torn". I cried.

I thought they had all died, that I was full stolidity,

But now I know that I still feel, and I feel torn.

I screamed and thrashed while I felt him crawl up my back,

I see "fear" crawling too, closer and closer.

He climbs up my front, and I'm being dragged down into the ground.

Next was "lies", and he wouldn't stop screaming, but he was oh so wise.

"Clumsiness" followed and crawled away with my struggling "bravery" and "grace",

He torn off their faces and put on new masks. Now I have my emotions back,

And I feel human again, until loneliness rose from beneath me,

One by one, her dark shroud poured my emotions deep within me,

From the frosted blood, to herself, one by one. "fear", "lies", "clumsiness",

Even "loneliness" herself, and my two new masked emotions,

"Cowardice" and "freak". It was overwhelming, in a flash I felt again,

But now I'm alone, with these poor guys swarming their words in my lifeless head.

Tomorrow

By jfarrell

Tomorrow will not be the same as today;

It never is.

Spilt coffee, missed bus,

A million different reasons, mishaps.

Tomorrow will not be the same as today;

You can convince yourself it is….

But when you review it..

You’ll see that at least one tiny thing was different.

Tomorrow will not be the same as today;

What if…

You make a different choice….

Tea, instead of coffee…. try a pub, instead of drinking alone.

Tomorrow will not be the same as today;

It never is.

Tomorrow is not written, it hasn’t happened;

Maybe, tomorrow can be different? Better?

Nevers

By jfarrell

25^th floor of a building in central London, with big windows;

I’d never seen London at night, all lights;

Was beautiful; first time I actually appreciated what London could be;

Until last night, I’d never been that high up and seen London.

I’d never been to Wembley, never been to Lord’s Cricket Ground;

Never got a roomful of important people drunk on entry;

“Champagne, sir or madam?”

I’d never served coffee to a room of professors.

Until my present employer, Berkeley Scott (BIG thank you, amazing);

I’d never experienced a road, a street…

The walk there takes five minutes..

After work, that same walk takes an hour or more.

Before BKS (Berkeley Scott)….

I’d never walked anywhere,

As part of a sea, an arrow, a swarm of people;

40, 000 people, all headed for the same tube station.

I’m nearly 50, these last 6 months seen a lot of nevers happening;

Nearly 50; never had family or kids or meaningful relationship;

BKS helping me destroy a lot of nevers;

Maybe, even this late in the race, some nevers can still be changed.

I don’t want my future (what’s left),

Just OK, managing;

I’d like my future to be good, worth the effort;

Maybe another never can be destroyed.

Changes; language

By jfarrell

“Where’s your rubbish bin?”

“My what?”

“Your rubbish bin; to throw out the rubbish…”

“Oh, you mean waste management”

What??????

What was wrong with rubbish bin?

Waste management?

I spent months looking through job adverts,

Looking for till operator, or checkout person;

Or cinema usher, team member…

Still haven’t learnt what those roles are now called.

Non-binary; snowflake; remoaner; brexiteer;

Cultural disapropriation; fake news;

Maybe it’s my age and my absence from the world;

But, woah! Language has changed.

When I went into childcare, I was trained,

‘keep your language simple’, so everyone can understand;

Doctors, psychiatrists, courts, parents, you and me;

Everyone can understand; multidisciplinary team.

Language today is like a minefield;

Tiptoeing on the eggshells of people,

Trying to avoid the cracks of what is now ‘politically incorrect’;

And huge money to be made at every misstep.

Please explain to me something…

How could George Orwell, who died so long ago,

Still foretell, with such accuracy,

How we would live today?

Am I as stupid as I believe I am?

By jfarrell

Between my inability to become jimi hendrix in 6 weeks,

And my inability to work out how therapy or meditation

Helps me cure or manage my chronic depression;

I’ve been convinced I’m really stupid.

Cognitive behavioural therapy; lotsa therapies, all with initials;

Mindfulness meditation;

“C’mon! We teach this to primary school children.

How can you not get it, you dumbass?”

But

In the last 2 months,

I’ve learned how to iron my clothes properly;

Even groom and dress myself properly;

(i never knew I could look so smart)

I’ve learned to be a barman

I’ve learned to be a waiter;

I’ve learned to operate a variety of tills

And they all look different

I had, even learnt to ask for a sandwich in Arabic;

Forgotten that now, been too busy learning other things;

So much I have learnt; how much can I learn?

Or am I as stupid as I’ve always believed?

The slug slimes back

By jfarrell

I did a trial shift at a peri-peri chicken store;

It didn’t work out;

After cutting my thumb

I just felt like a case of mass food poisoning waiting to happen;

And seeing how swiftly I nearly bethumbed myself

Serious physical harm to my colleagues

Was also a possibility;

I learnt

My future does not lie in cooking.

I also, once worked a shift as telephone operator,

For a cab firm; a Friday night;

Between my “h…h.hh… hello…p….p…and…..”

And my manager shouting at me to stop stuttering

After I again put the phone down with nothing to write down;

They paid me off that night, “never come back”

I don’t blame them

But the next week they closed down!

I feel my stutter put a cab firm out of business;

I reckon answering telephones is not a good career choice.

I did cook for my nursery once; 100 or so children;

That went very well :)

Halfway through my cooking chilli con carne

I was asked if I’ve soaked the kidney beans? Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

McDonald’s all round.

And my first primary school trip,

With me as the leader;

Think we wrecked Madam Twoswords

(and I know it spelt wrong, too lazy to get correct spelling)

Hope this has been more lighthearted

Than my recent output