Really proud of this piece – capturing a lot of ‘Nerd Culture’
Ripe is the tapestry of hype.
Millennials dream as they swipe.
The latest game,
Is new to blame,
As miseries latest archetype.
Tag: Metaphorical Poetry
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A thriving unrivalled passion,
90 minutes of non-stop action.
Eyes peeled to screens,
Grouped helplessly like sardines.
Defining a lifetime of satisfaction.
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I sit in darkness, a man blind.
The world around me has not been kind.
Depressed and lost.
My heart covered in frost.
My only hope, to rejoin the grind.
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This is Debbie. Debbie is a Downer. Down about her life. Life that isn’t much fun right now. Now is a bad time for Debbie, but it was once.
Once upon a time Debbie lived a life of bliss. Bliss and bubbly, Debbie felt complete. Complete in the sense that she was fulfilled. Fulfilled both emotionally and physically. Physically she was a specimen, strong and sure. Surely this life would last forever?
Forever never lasts. Lasting tales of woe and worry always come back to haunt. Haunting us into our futures. Futures whose direction is yet unknown. Unknown to her yet, Debbie has hope still.
Still, Debbie sits in her home. Home is where the heart is after all, or it was, before the end times. Time has stood still for Debbie for a while. Whilst at her bottom, she is not lost completely.
Completely alone, Debbie thinks back to the family now lost. Lost to time, only kept in memories. Memory is the key after all.
All Debbie has to do is get up. Up towards the stars she must push. Pushing herself out of this rut and into the future!
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What skill would you like to learn?
One skill I cannot help but admire is the ability to sing. It’s the way that a song can capture feelings and emotion that captivate me.
I love being able to shape and tell a story – I feel being able to sing would be another way to expressive myself.
Unfortunately my talent in the area is more likely to make one’s ears bleed, than inspire them.
I wonder if it’s time I take my singing journey outside of the shower and into the world? Really kick start it if you know what I mean!
Otherwise I am quite content with my daily writing for now – a journey which is really helping me mentally. Hopefully you too have found some meaning in my prose!
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Bumper to Bumper,
Testing my patience.
The collective churn of society,
Attempt to flee (flea also works) at once.
.
Some fidget, others fester.
The worst of humanity Is bubbling collectively to the surface.
Seeking one’s own sanctuary.
Patience is but a virtue – here we fester.
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Once home, the Battle renews.
Internet servers are throttled,
As demand for streams awaken.
One queue traded for another.
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Mankind reduced to a waiting game,
Stuck behind one another.
All fulfilling the same ill replete role.
What more can life give?
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The fall of the seasons,
Are absent from reason,
At one we freeze,
To burning degrees,
Perplexed avoiding feeling beaten.
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The final countdown.
Characterless Office cubicles,
Grey carpet lit by illuminated fluorescents
All eyes on the clock.
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Motivation is lacking,
Attention lost. Care thrown out the door.
Our entire mindset captured by the gentle tick.
Savages reduced to cogs.
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Five is met. The silence is broken.
We rise together in unison.
Smiles etched to faces.
Colour warms our cheeks.
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Our lives begin with the chimes.
Scattering to all four corners.
To loved ones, to sanctuary.
To all in between.
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Life not spent living,
Is life wasted.
Break the system.
Rage against the machine.
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Life begins with a bang,
From a blood soaked birth,
To wrapped in loving arms.
Tears, fears and mothers wears,
Soft, pump and innocent.
Useless and precious in spades.
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Our early years are full of firsts,
Innocence and ignorance in abundance,
Heavy guidance required as we take to many of life’s firsts.
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Growing like weeds,
Long limbs, hairy and awkward.
Things change suddenly.
What was once cute and ignorant is something else entirely.
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Confident and exploratory,
We grow into our awkwardness,
Start exploring and experimenting.
Viewers discretion is advised.
When trying to recreate our first bang.
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Time slows down,
Firsts stop happening,
We become guides and teachers
Pretending to know what path to take,
When inside we are awkward still.
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The young leave the nest,
Our purposes wind down.
Suddenly time is plenty,
But energy and willingness is lacking.
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Aches and pain,
Hard to hear.
Time is a cruel mistress.
We near our final breath.
How we will be remembered is unknown,
But how we live is truly up to us.
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Pedal to the metal,
Breaking only when required,
Pushing to the limits,
Life in the fast lane.
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Days pass in a flash,
Moments fade to memory,
Friendships lost as sands in time,
Time to smell the daisies?
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Pace yourselves young ones,
Life is not a sprint,
A marathon of moments,
To leaving a lasting memory.
The StoryTeller 