How did it get like this?
Tinnitus tinged silence
Absence for company
Penance for some unwitting crime
Solitude with a side of time.
Category: Life
-
Pops
I hope your ticker keeps on ticking dear Pops
Not time for your one way ticket yet Pops
Wait there, imma buy you some more minutes
Still time to win it
Games not done yet
Gimme a minute there Pops
Damn!
Its not time to pop your clogs yet
No matter how many clogged up vessels the doctor rustles up on your plate now Pops!
It’s not too late dear Pops
Tryna keep you near dear Pops
I don’t even call you Pops!?
Trying something new to keep the fear away,
The tears at bay and whittle the time away
Scared to stop incase I see your face in a way that makes my heart drop Pops-
in my imagination..
Where some surgical complication, botches the operation
Meanwhile we’re sitting outside waiting
Debating on the dangers of ghee or sugars in your tea
How moderation is key
All nodding furiously
Hanji* yes..
High cholesterol and BP!
Pata ni yaraa, theek thaak si!?*
Twisting my hand like an uncle ji
While the beeps keep ringing out of the ECG
Beep…beep….beep…
I’m hearing em in my sleep now Pops
Jolting awake whenever the beeping stops
Stopping the other shoe from dropping Pops
Living the dream? I really hope not Pops
I’ll promise to sleep
If you promise you won’t
Not yet..Abba
Not yet
I think..
I think I should stop now
Not you though
Don’t play chicken with me now…Abba
…I mean Pops.
*translation: I don’t know man, he was fine before
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The glass blower
Like a glass blower with a cold
Unable to stifle his sneeze
I’ve sent many chaotic breaths down the blowpipe
Ruining the smooth lines I’d planned
Too late now, to fix those kinks,
Nor return to the burner for another try
No,
Gotta keep blowing now
Accepting the imperfections as facets
Reflecting my palms,
Foretelling yet uncertain,
Just like the breath that made them.
-
Netfliction
In time—
I won’t remember your face,
nor its contours or expressions
Only emotions will remain
Nor will I remember the reasons,
only the pangs of a ‘how could you?’,
the tickling giggle of an ‘oh my god, remember when?’,
not your voice or tone,
nor what was even said back then
The starting credits will read:
‘Based on a true story’,
‘An adaptation of…’
And I’ll impatiently hit ‘skip intro‘—
because I always remember exactly what happened…
or so I keep telling myself.
-
Shadow boxing – Gloves off
Oh my days… Are we doing it now!?
Tsk, whyy bro?
Every time man…
Fucks sake, okay let’s do it!
Let’s ride this wave again…
Okay, put em up!
Gotta roll with the punches!..
Man, I’m eating punches for breakfast, brunch and lunch
Suddenly, feeling like a chump, a mug, a wasteman,
Wish I could give you all a taste man
Okay, that’s a lie, I don’t wish this on you
One minute chilling, next minute sad,
Don’t know why these tears be spilling,
While my brain’s chanting –
You’re bad!
You’re bad!
You’re bad!
Ahh, my bad bro…
I thought I was drinking my tea
Now I’m sinking in my seat, with feelings of defeat surging,
Urging me to think,
Sink, think, then sink some more!
Before I can even ask what for, the wave’s already crashed through the door,
Like a punch to the jaw
Now I’ve spilt my tea all over the floor
I’m reeling…
Where has all the calm gone that I was feeling?
Can’t deal, man, this is long
Feeling alright and then all of a sudden – wrong!
Like what the hell? It’s like I slapped myself,
Clapped my own head for feeling good
How dare I, how did I even think I could?
Wait, wait, wait!
Hold up!?
How dare I?
How dare you, bro!
Nah man, allow it!
I’m done!
I ain’t throwing fists this time,
No red mist this time,
Not listening to your list this time
Come on bruv, I got you!
It’s calm, it’s calm,
No harm, no foul
Stop scowling, it’s okay,
Just having a moment, relax, we got the whole day
Remember 5 minutes ago, when it didn’t feel this way?
Let’s bring it back
Breathe, my brother, breathe
Remember the exercise?
Four seconds in,
Hold for four
Six seconds out
Hold….
Hold….
4,4,6,4
Hold…
Let’s hold it together
You can do it
Hold…
That’s better
Calm your heart, it’s all good, it’s all good!
There we go
No blame,
No shame
Just remember to breathe
Remember your name
Open your eyes my bro
See it’s all good now
It’s all good
See, I knew you could
Told you man,
You’re not doing this alone anymore
I get it though…
It’s hard to walk past that closet door,
When all those skeletons rattle inside
It’s like a battle inside,
Like everything matters inside
When the skeletons chatter, something shatters inside
But still, you open the door,
Almost like an addiction,
Yeah, an addiction!
Like you’re drawn to affliction,
It’s the same old fiction but you wanna hear the remix
Bruv, it’s not in our remit, even though it might seem it
It’s dead down there
Let the skeletons dance in the dark
We take our chances in the light,
Upstairs where it’s illuminated
Let’s go, you’re done ruminating
We got baited by old habits,
All love bro, we don’t do hating anymore ♥️
It’s okay…
I rate you for snapping out of it though
No more punches?
Shall we finish our lunch?
Shall we wave the wave goodbye?
Yeah?
Done?
You good?
You calm?
Safe, go make me another cuppa tea then innit! 🫖
Explainer: Revised this piece with a touch more honesty and experience of the whole not just the beginning. 🥊
-
Loose leaf
One day
On the final day
On my final day
Some will hear of it, and maybe say
Ashes to ashes
While others say
No way! Dig a hole in the ground
That’s the right way
Either way, I can’t stay!
They’ll put me away
Somewhere far,
Far, far away
Where I will lay
Where I’ll remain
Or my remains will remain
My remains?
How?
That remains to be seen
Though definitely not remains to be seen!
That would be rather obscene
Imagine the scenes…
Sorry, I digress
Where was I?
I died, yes…
And my remains?
Still nowhere to be seen
Buried or blown away — either way
That’s my last day in the sun done
Until my tea leaf-like existence infuses with the next rainfall
Until the waves dissipate from the last time my name’s called
And that will truly be all
An existence steeped in life, steeped back into the earth
One way or another, I am returned
After that final sip,
It’s time to call it a day
Thank you and goodnight 🫖
-
The man – second round
I’m a man’s man
I don’t ask for no help
I go through hell alone and have a story to tell!
Down at the bar with my brothers every blue moon—
Cos I don’t see the need, in seeming to need to see them too soon
They don’t need to see behind the scenes and lose the mystique
Like a couple hours earlier, when I was crying alone in my bedroom
That shit is too bleak
I’d rather hide than seek a shoulder to cry on
I’m meant to be the strong one,
The one they rely on
The joker, the charmer, the rational thinker,
Part-time stoic and full-time drinker
Taking shot after shot, but I don’t tend to the wounds—
I only intend to consume
Letting nothing spill out,
Drowning out the sorrow,
Taking the pain home with interest tomorrow,
To the same room where I sat and I cried
I’ll sit again — and again I’ll ask why:
Why, why do I feel so disconnected?
Why do I feel so empty and rejected?
Why do I feel lonely when I’m rarely alone?
Why do I feel like a stranger when I sit on my own?
The guy from the bar now sat in my home—
He isn’t me
He’s a bunch of pleasantries and open-ended questions
Hoping to blend into the scene without making a scene,
He’s seen by all but completely unseen!
Shocked by it all, like some unforeseen circumstance
Even though every day, it’s the same old song and dance
I’m fine though
Cos, I’m a man’s man
I don’t ask for no help
Better to burn alone than be dragged from this hell
Can’t risk the reveal by trusting another,
By sharing how I feel with a man I call brother
Or I guess by any other name
Imagine if he knew all the darkness and pain
Would he meet my eye again or just think I’m insane?
Just think I’m insane,
He’d think I’m insane—
Man, I better stay in my lane
I’d rather reject myself and play another role
Instead of revealing the whole of me,
Revealing the hole, where my joy is supposed to be,
Revealing my soul where the ghosts reside in me,
Revealing the toll it’s taken inside of me
Instead of bleeding out, silently
I should be pleading,
Pleading—
Help me,
Help me please!
I can’t do this alone!
I can’t even pick up the phone
Cos I don’t want to be a bother—I…
Sorry mate, got distracted
Bit noisy in here innit
My round?
Same again yeah?
Safe, no worries
Brother. 🤜🏽…
Explainer: So I first wrote ‘The Man’ a couple of years ago, but it bothered me knowing I’d pulled punches – hinting at pain without naming it.
Fitting, I suppose, since that’s often how these conversations go.
Joke. Deflect. Buy another round.
This new version is an attempt to reveal all that.
It’s based on many convos with close mates that start light and end somewhere real – too often, long after they needed to.
It’s about the silence we keep, the show we put on, and the fear of being unmasked.
God forbid...😅
-
Verbossman uncut
Lately I’ve been on some other-level shit
Revelling in rebelling against the devil playing advocate!
Revolution on my mind…
Revolver in my right hand—
Reminding the devil who’s boss!
Playing Russian roulette,
Praying I don’t pay the cost
Firing shots at random,
Double-tap the trigger,
Bullets fly in tandem
Catching strays myself
As I wrestle with accountability—
Counting on my knack for grappling with facts
And turning them into an account ability!
Cursed with the compulsion for writing pretty words
Cursive letters strung together—
It’s a little bit absurd
Abstracted from reality,
Allergic to banality,
Eclipsing every musing with obscurate totality!
I’m howling now…
Maybe a little crazy
Smiling too…
As if these words will save me
On my ones…
Lonely master of verbosity,
Speaking tongues,
If only I mastered the vernacular of veracity
Instead of hiding behind this poetry—
If you can call it that…
Now here comes the “woe is me”
Nah man, let’s claw it back
This propensity for self-pity is not a sexy look
Classic avoidant tendency,
Staring at the void incessantly
With an incandescent rage—
With the ink in my pen,
Filling page after page
With pure, indirect savagery!
Intense is the density of imagery
Of the imaginary,
Of the abstract
Utterly absurd utterings—
Figuratively speaking…
Literally, though—
I’m already stuttering
Nope, I…
I can’t do it
Ah, fuck!
I’m stuck,
I’ve lost the thread
Tied in knots
Dreadlocked
Stranded, with this harebrained rhyming scheme
Seems I’m straining
Clogging the drain,
I’m fading…
Drained of sense,
I’m fading
Slowly does it,
I’m fading
Tryna let it go—
Let it fade…
That’s it
Let me fade away
I’m fading,
I’m fading,
I’ve… faded…
I’ve…
…Explainer: A poem about talking too much. About thinking too fast. About trying to be clever when really just wanting to be heard. Verbossman is turning up the volume up on your inner monologue and then losing the remote. 😬
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Out of hand
My heart finally wrenched itself free
It doubts I’ll ever learn to hold it
Played my hand one too many times
Ironic, I didn’t have the heart to fold it
Left retracing the lines in my palm
Seeking absolution?
Seeking alms?
Or simply seeking the line that foretold it?
-
Old man traffic cone
I wonder when the day will come,
The day when I will be that weathered old man
Standing and staring at the traffic
Almost as if to say,
This is enough for me
I’mma stand here and watch the rest of you mugs run
You’ll all stop eventually
But fresh ones will keep coming
Keep on running
Pretending we have somewhere to be
As though the circles we run will set us free
No thanks youngun, this is far enough for me
Peace and love ✌🏽
-
Unavoidable
If I were to find myself on the day of judgement
I’d tell God to join the back of the queue
There’s many more innocent hearts I’ve broken
And questions left behind,
within a lifetime’s silence
It is their eyes I fear the most
But I accept…
God?
God can have whatever is left.
-
Hopeful
The heat, pulsing through my veins
Cannot be found in my tears
The joy, dancing in my laughter
Pirouetting in-between breaths
Its a spinning top,
Chasing it’s own reflection
Bouncing off the bristling breeze
That cannot be toppled into silence.
-
Summiting
Somehow, words tend to fall short.
Clichés of bleeding pens,
Of pouring hearts onto pages—
Nonsense!
They never crossed the writer’s door.
Ring-fenced within words, the heart is mute.
To believe otherwise is vanity—
It’s foolish
One can write and write, yet the words arrive stale,
Pale and cold in the shadow of mountains
They try and fail to describe
I do not know which medium would suffice,
Just not that of the scribe
How many times, in how many ways,
Have I longed to make you see through my eyes?
Make you believe what I believe—
Yet as soon as the word is written,
It is at the mercy of what you perceive
It’s make-believe
And then somehow,
The mountains I peaked become molehills…
Or maybe..
I’m just blaming my pen.
-
Ice dance
You live in a little snow globe in my heart
I can shake it up and watch as the snow adorns you anew,
Smile and relive that frozen moment—
That fragile, timeless void where we danced,
Where you were mine,
Where it was too warm for snowflakes to touch
I can still tap on the glass,
Hold that little world within,
Where I always kept you,
Quietly adored you
Though now,
I’ll always remain on this side,
Peering through the snow
I can’t join you anymore
My world cannot be held,
At least not by these hands
But no one can take this you from me—
This you, immortalised,
This you, for me alone
For this, I thank you.
I’ll let the snow settle now…
It could never touch you anyway.Imagery inspired by this scene from the film Edward Scissorhands: https://youtu.be/J6xzL0TrsRY
-
Open water
Flipped and tumbled by the waves
The swell, relentless
Turning me inside out
In this chaos, calm comes easy
The ocean cannot touch the depth of my stillness here
No
It’s the shore that terrifies me
-
Potpourri
I want to find a forgotten old photo,
on my phone when it says ‘remember the day when…’
Then fall in love all over again
Get those old butterflies to dust their wings
Ask this old heart to skip a beat and sing
Knowing where those blurry smiles would lead
Like a lush gardens very first seed
The sweet fragrance of nostalgia in bloom
Instead of the dried petals that perfume this room…
…how do I disable this memories thing?
-
Walking with Dante
A strange addictive quality—
The draw of yearning and desire
As though I’m playing hide and seek,
Yet deep down, I don’t want to find you
For the pain and pleasure is the pursuit
The resistance, the obstacles—
Each step a stumble toward a home,
Though I fear what I find will never be enough.
Merely an inn, a halfway place,
It will be the spark alone—
An ember fanned by my own breath
Its flicker swelling into a blinding inferno,
Until I can no longer see the way,
See the truth
Only the figures I manifest—
Dancing…in the flames.
Thus I walk
Willfully ignorant in pursuit of elusive bliss,
I shun the end of the road
For limbo isn’t torment,
If the journey becomes the station.
What do you write after ‘the end’ anyway?
I’d rather die half way than ever pen those words.
-
Friday night
It’s a curious dichotomy
Anticipating yet awaiting nothing
Noone is at the door,
Nor will there be
Yet, when the wind rattles the latch,
I glance—
Just in case.
A lonely leaf, crushed into the doormat stares back
There’s still 3 hours till bedtime
Maybe I’ll vacuum tomorrow…
Maybe I wont
-
Under the clock
Perched in the rafters of Waterloo station
Watching the show unfold
A production of epic proportions
Stage left, right, north, south, it’s a free for all!
Some seem to know their lines, others a little lost
Missing their cues, they beg the departure board for clues
Every direction, every face, invites indulgence in sonder
Who are they? Where are they going?
Infinite stories unfolding
Impossible to know
How unsatisfying
In the midst of this choreographed chaos,
Under the disembodied – allegedly iconic – clock, two bodies meet
Greeting with a kiss, a quip and slightly averted glances
Nervous and slightly breathless
A new romance
About to leave the station
Godspeed to you
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