The Written World/The Scenic Word

Its all just words, isn't it?

[thescenicword]

Build the stage and the demons will come: Poem #27 100 days of poetry

You want to talk to me about being a man

Because someone who was a man did something

Something very, very bad and very, very wrong

You say it was because he was a bad, bad MAN

You say gender constructs are breeding killers

You say all men are under their toxic influence 

Guess what, you are a fucking gender construct

Yes, SOME men can’t be real with their emotions

But neither could my pill popping, wrist slashing ex girl friend,

Neither could the one who kept running away from her problems

And neither can others of all race, sexuality and gender

But they don’t all go out and slaughter a house full of people

Because thats what they were, people, before they were male or female 

So do not insult my intelligence and throw me in with a killer

Everyone has a choice about what kind of one they are

Independent of gender, gender roles and your ideas

Just because I am a man does not mean I could let myself change

Because billboards, or constructs, or expectations exist around me

And do not  temper evil with gender, making excuses for the vile

The longer you study this evil, try to understand this evil

The more it will feed off of your attention

And stare you in the face with the eyes of a person

Tell me how much of that you can take before it breaks

And you start your own mass killer sympathy blog 

You talked about it so much it grew with its audience

Build the stage and the demons will come

To dance in the moonlight of our waning direction

You took something a terrible PERSON did 

And blamed it, in part, on how gendered society is

You think your championing gender equality

But by simply using the word men, oh the bitter irony

[thescenicword]

I can see a rage in you: Poem #26 100 days of poetry

You left here without me

running from your very blood

running from the holy flood

That would take us all

you wanted to see the future

but it kept turning into the past

too fast for you to catch it

and it will take us all at last

Now I can see the rage in you

The deep disgrace in you

There's a burning in your soul

That will swallow you up whole

I can see a rage in you

[thescenicword]

Nothing but a cold deaf stone: Poem #25 100 days of poetry

Who am I apart from the ever changing idea of myself

The mash up of reused parts I took from you all

The trees, the waves, the breeze the sunshine

I have stolen from each and every one of you

I listened, learned to imitate, create my own sounds

But nothing original came out, just a hollow echo

That rang like a wailing child in my ears forever

My bitter tribute to the source code of myself

Like the rock against the rock makes sand

We are as the sands, whittled out over time

ground from the bones of those who came before

What am I but a ghost of past people combined

Sharing everything with the thirsty tide of our doom

Lord let at least my love be only mine and mine alone

Or I am nothing but alone, a cold deaf stone

[thescenicword]

This comfort is killing me: Poem #24 100 days of poems

I’m chasing gravity down the mountains in my head

Burning down the open road from the comfort of my bed

I've spent days stacking my potential safe on the bookshelf

And I can't remember the last time I put my soul before my health

like a moth I enslaved to the dim laptop screen

letting out slow a long belated internal scream

Tomorrow my alarm is set way too early

Because I'm looking for someone to shake me

But its just me here alone, me and my phone

But I'm not an undeveloped plot, a dead end or a drone

I'm viciously alive, but this comfort is killing me

Right now i need to be, anywhere but home.

[thescenicword]

Predictable: Poem #23 100 days of poems

It would be just like me

To end up here again

But then again, I guess 

You knew that all along

I'm more predictable

now that I'm getting old

Can't find as many ways

To loose my grip or hold

But don't breath a word of this

No, not to anyone

And I'll seal you with a kiss

And I'll take another one

Angels don't make mistakes

So how do they have their fun?

Got my sense of humour back

And my self discipline 

But oh no its gone again

And I can't seem to mind at all

No, I don't seem to mind at all

[thescenicword]

Winter in the city (I do try to be happy) poem #22 100 days of poems

I do try to be happy as you flower without me

But miracles are small when its winter in the city

Foggy streets are as foggy as a future without you

So I'm building a fire in the middle of the living room

Bigger than before and hot enough to get me through

This home was a sanctuary, but today it feels like a tomb

My mind is dull, grubby from the toll of walking away 

When every stitch in my woollen jersey says stay

But we'll both be better off this way

better off this way...

[thescenicword]

Death cab and a house of cards: Poem #21 100 days of poems

I remember kissing your cheek as I left you sleeping

In the villa by the sea, in the bed where you held me

To hold, but not have me was your curse and your blessing

You could have taken my passion, but not my depression

We listened to death cab and I slept in your track pants

We were really, truly friends and I was so glad I had you

But you were beautiful and I was falling through the evening

Searching for a woman to give me more meaning

You were not her, but I wanted you badly to be 

I just couldn't break the chains she put around me

So I missed you then, even when you lay there beside me

I missed you by a whisper, so close to inside you

But it will always remain, we were just two

crutches, the same, but going nowhere together

Waiting for those bloody broken limbs to remember

They needed our thin metal frames for support 

This codependant catch was not the love that I sought

So like two playing cards we rested on each other

But they rattled the table and blew on the tower

Down we both fell away from each other.

But sometimes, when the hour gets all the thinner 

I remember your shape and my heart beats get quicker

[thescenicword]

The Golden Hour: Poem #20 100 days of poems

Last chance, the dark is coming

Fast, up from the ground

Like the rising tide 

Lapping at the hills and the pines

That stand like a silent audience

Solemn in the growing twilight

As the warmth recedes

The sky surrenders 

But not without a fight

In an explosion of light

Colours we can't recreate

Go out and we watch them go out

Go now, or you will miss it all,

If you wait

[thescenicword]

in your poem tightly you need to change "way" to weigh I think? (maybe, possibly?) Loving your work so far by the way.

Thanks for spotting that, my editing is non-existent to terrible and I write most of this stuff at around 2am. Thank you :)

[thescenicword]

Pizza agro: Poem #19 100 days of poems

The pizza guy wore it

He was rude, and fat, and had bad acne

I wanted to make him feel like shit

Because of the churning in my belly

There must be some issues

That I'm not sorting out

Because I want to verbally abuse

This chubby blob layabout

I shouldn't care that he forgot my order 

I don't even mind that the pizza is now colder

But I'm snapping like a twig under heavy foot fall

Dry and frail my mind starts to crackle

I surprise myself by my flippant remarks

Part of me is glad, but I don't like that part

[thescenicword]

What is the best thing that happened to you this week so far

Resolve

[thescenicword]

I know that love is blind: Poem#18 100 days of poems

I have driven myself deep into bed with a viper

Her broken edges pass by my nose un-noted and underestimated

Like a blown headlight is so conspicuous to oncoming cars

But far less easy for one to spot from behind the wheel

I am in love, I am young and I am learning fast, but not fast enough

I strike those broken, sharp, but beautiful edges head on

Bouncing off unharmed, like a bare hand against fresh cut steel

But how long before I slip sideways, and the straight edge breaks the skin

I know that love is blind, but I didn't realise I was.

[thescenicword]

Simple things: Poem #17 100 days of poems

Mood lighting, tight acoustics and roasted coffee beans

Hydration, friendly service and Bon Iver playing low

Internet sharing, macbook typing and changing autumn scenes

Orange and gold, the warming sun, an entertaining evening show

Solid walls, perforated boards in shades of white and yellow

Heat, cold, light, shade, a first taste of new daylight, a bed well made

Learning as you go, not being alone, having someone to follow

A well timed joke, a well played note and a bill thats paid

A reassuring song, when its been so long, on your own

Airport windows, massive pillows, leather jackets, a reliable car

The sight of someone, you love so much, finally coming home

Being right when no ones wrong, being sure and being whole

[thescenicword]

Tightly: Poem #16 100 days of Poems

Sometimes I wonder if I held onto you too tightly

Pressed my wounds against you so that they opened

Bled in long rivulets down you're white blouse

Staining even the pale light skin underneath 

And like lead, molten from my mind it dripped

Burned by my thoughts and heartbreak until it set

heavy on your shoulders so we could be the same

Share in the slaughter to understand the game

Is that what sharing your life with someone is about?

Do we have to weigh them down with our own burdens

So that they will want to love us even though we're dirt

Or do we burn our load on a stone when we are alone

Foundering in the wilderness, tossed by the wind

No parties or date nights to blind our resolve

Do we take a hold of ourselves when we are caught

In the middle of the dark without a torch 

Find a way to make our piece with the horror

With the wind, the stone, the death and the rage

One coward is hard enough a thing to kill

Two, I am afraid, is unstoppably stoppable 

Sometimes I wonder if I held onto you too tightly

And I know I did

[thescenicword]

Desire: Poem #15 100 days of poems

In my mind I see the things they always taught me

I see success, wealth, power, finesse and beauty

I watch them from my post, here in the moment

My young soul abounded in desire and confusion

I watch them shimmer like a mirage on the mountain road

Dancing like winter sunlight dawning weak over the hills

I wonder why they wont come closer and why they can't hear me

When I ask what they mean and where they come from

They just laugh and smile and effortlessly ignore me 

I see the clouds of this room and this place obscure their rays

I wonder if I even saw anything at all, but I want to strive for it all

Because it all means happiness doesn't it? and that is what I want

For my eyes and my mind to be sated and my needs to be met

Both my physical and emotional satisfaction is there

Behind the clouds, beyond my means, forever out there

Then one day I wake up, and its real and its me

I'm laughing and smiling and effortlessly ignoring people

But when I look out I am astonished to find

I see success, wealth, power, finesse and beauty

I watch them from my post, here in the moment

My soul abounded in desire and confusion

I watch them shimmer like a mirage on the mountain road

Dancing like winter sunlight dawning weak over the hills...

[thescenicword]

Regret - Poem #14 100 days of poems

When I’m on my own, 

and I’m sick and stoned 

I’ll drag these bones

across the coals of everything

I wish I’d done under your sun

Because it haunts me now,

And I think,

even if it never changed a thing

I could still have said I tried

[thescenicword]

What are your weekend plans

Building, surfing, sleeping, writing.