Movember poetry challenge – Day 28

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The walls in my room
Are frosted pink of
Heavily diluted blood.
The chocolate brown
Of my solid wood
(Higher price point) IKEA
Asserts that I’m above
In the food chain.

We never cared for
Decorating, though
There’s this gnawing
Pressure to express yourself,
To prove you are
An artist not a peasant.

I never care, I commit
A faux-pas
Making me
Delightfully
Non-conformist,
A little too hick,
But unmistakeably,
The very formula
Of the Zeitgeist.

I don’t care about that
Nonsense either.
I do care about what I commit to –
Not touching the walls
In case they have ears.

Do not be alarmed –
I am not paranoid.

I savour the refreshing
Monopoly on my
Demographic data.
I bathe in it. I am
The King of my targeted
Advertising.
Bring me my cape.
Bow down.

Movember poetry challenge – Days 25 and 26

Day 25 – Probability

The odds were never in his favour,
And he suspected as much
As he watched the winged rats
Peck on no-longer-his pepperoni pizza
That the wind swept away from his lap.

They were swallowing it all:
Bread,
Cheese,
Chilli flakes,
Processed meat.

He was watching with disgust and fascination
As a colourless sparrow hopped into the middle of the action
And stole a big piece from the slower giants.

That food has got to be the end of them,
And yet they can’t help themselves,
Mindless and driven by an outdated instinct.
They can’t fight the temptation.
Hell, they don’t even know that’s temptation.

The odds were in their favour, so
No one would remove them from it either.

Day 26 – Metrics

Sometimes it’s tough to know
If your score
Is your personal best
Or personal worst:

I’ve pulled my own tooth.

I saw seven disturbing dreams about being unprepared in rapid succession.

I contained my laughter in a crowded elevator.

I only cried a little bit at the movies.

My own worst fears left me unmoved.

Movember poetry challenge – Day 23

A poem about writing poems

As an engineer I believe that
An accurately formulated problem
Gets you closer to the solution.

I’d say writing poems
Is like riding a bicycle:
I am not really good at it,
I don’t particularly enjoy it,
I am scared of the street cars,
Why do it when there are better ways?

Which is why I’d rather compare it
To driving my car:
An excuse to not share a drink,
A pretext to avoid the crowds,
An ability to come and go as I please.

I don’t know if I can call myself a poet,
But I am full of shit.

September poetry challenge – Days 15 and 16

Day 15 – A job interview

“Hey let’s play a game!
Let’s play truth or dare!”,
Said the cute creature
After one too many
Rum-and-diets.

Well, why the hell not,
Let’s play truth or dare…
People play this game
When they are quite drunk.
Or horny. Or both.

Fair enough, he though.
At least it’s playing,
And not living it.

Day 16 – Necessary clarifications

Tidal waves are controlled
By the pull of the Moon*,

As once was my fear of
My own reflection in
Mirror-like surfaces
When I was a small child.

It used to pull me in,
On schedule, after dark,
Pale and glowing and cold.

Howling at my own face
Like a dead demon-dog,

I was never able
To recognize myself.
A clarification:
I never wanted to

Acknowledge that it was
My own face that scared me
Like a dead demon-dog.

Tides will always be caused
By the pull of the Moon,

And so happens to be
The fear of my own pale,
Listlessly glowing face.
A clarification:

The fear of what controls
The shadows on that thing.

*Tides are the rise and fall of sea levels caused by the combined effects of the gravitational forces exerted by the Moon and the Sun and the rotation of the Earth (Wikipedia)

September poetry challenge – Days 1 and 2

For the month of September, I am going to write and post one poem per day. I am doing this on a dare, because I am a sucker for dares.

Here are the first two poems:

September 1 2014:

Condensation

Miniscule droplets
Lump together on the edge.
My hand will crush them.

September 2 2014:

Flu season

Feral.
With a hiss.
Something
Stirring there,
In the tall grass.
It starts…
Feral,
It must be.
Exposed
Its little claws
To do what it
Does best.
Scratches
Away, eh?
Digging
For food, though
This season
Is barren.
Scratches
Harder still.
Stupid
Persistence,
Would you quit that?
Guess not.
Fun fact:
Classified
As a…
Butterfly.
Ever seen one
Flutter?
Flutter,
Dainty and
Gentle…
That’s some shit
Advertisement.
Just like
Laundry
Detergent
That fails
To solve all
Existential
Crises.

I hate
Falling
In love.

Poem – Tree trunk

Hurry up, sit yourself down
Onto this chair that smells like
A rotting tree trunk that got
Taken down by a storm and
Nobody was there to hear.
Only worms and termites saw.

Shut your mouth now and resume
Inhaling the dusty spores
That will take root in our lungs.
Not a doubt, they will take hold
And will eat because you could.
Only worms and termites know.

Poem – Scarring light

Extreme star cluster bursts into life in new Hubble image http://www.spacetelescope.org/images/heic0715a/

Extreme star cluster bursts into life in new Hubble image
http://www.spacetelescope.org/images/heic0715a/

Pulled again, slowly, into the stillness of the night.
Left to consider the implications of starlight.
Looking up. Up, as far as my vertebrae will go.
Getting confused whether I am above or below.

Waves hitting my retina – they’re aimless, relentless.
They are a burning reminder that past is endless.
As I strain my eyes to gaze at a wandering star,
I ask it “When did you die and did you leave a scar?”

There is no reply. I doubt there has ever been one.
Or ever will be. Darkness is where silence has won.
You surrender to chaos. Scar. Decay. And repair.
You die. You destruct. What I see is no longer there.