God make me a bird of spring
Stretching the first time its wings
Wary of the drop below
Yet fearless of what it does not know
Take this knowing away from me
Undo all I’ve seen and set me free
Tag: youth
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Go back to Africa
Oi Paki, Go back to Africa!
What?!
Why you shouting at me?
Man what’s your problem?
Besides shit geography
Why you deriding my ancestry?
Ancestry
It means where my heritage is from
Heritage is..tut
Come school more init dumb dumb!
Learn a bit of history
Let’s solve that mystery
Instead of spitting my way
Like some sort of enemy
Like some sort of damn monkey
Irony
That you call me gorilla
But it’s you making chimp noises
Three apes and not one is me
Fuck geography
Watch some Attenborough
Get basics on zoology
Nah it’s not the study of zoos
Put down the zoot
Your dumbness isn’t cute
You racist waste of air
Let’s face it, life isn’t fair
Just cos you’re fair
You get more than your fair share
And some to spare
I don’t mean cash, although the stats say you do
I know your broke
Your dad’s on coke and mums battered
In more ways than one
And you’re their only wasteman son
It’s fair to say fair boy
That you ain’t won
But you don’t even know your white
Do you?
Like Harry potter’s invisibility cloak
The world sees straight through you
What’s that like?
It’s gotta be nice man
To not wake up and think..shit
I’m still a paki
Not that im ashamed
But why do I gotta represent all of us?
Or answer for all of us?
You, white boy, you’ll never know
You’re out of their sights boy
So in a way you’ll never grow
Grow a thick skin and internalised hatred
The kind that burns inside kind of hatred
The why me god, I hate myself kind of hatred
You got your own battles
Yet you beat on me
You hurt, so you hurt
Bro why cant you see?
Poor white boys and poor pakis
Different branches same tree
I’m Yorkshire, you’re Tetleys
Just not your cuppa tea!
Seriously though
Pay attention in geography!
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Boxes piled high
There were no more boxes left to fill
Standing like a cardboard nightscape
A fragile tribute to the city you were escaping
I used my practical voice and avoided your eyes
Feeling the void looming
Navigating the boxes
Resisting the urge to turn them upside down
This day was always coming
So far away it seemed in the spring
So far away you were about to goWhy were you going?
Please stay with me!..
Be still…
Eyes down now
Be strong…The boxes were full
I was holding your dark blue coat
The one with the furry collar
The one, that tickled my nose when I leaned into rest my head next to yours
Wondering if I could hide it to make you stay, for 5 minutes more
All the boxes were full
You saw me dithering and smiled slightly
There was a tiny bit of room left in the big box
You folded as I pressed down to make space
It wouldn’t fit but I pushed harder
Suddenly the side split and I almost fell in
You spluttered a little laugh as I climbed out
We finally looked at each other grinning
On our knees, beside your bed
The box overflowedI saw your eyes again, for the first time
But, this time we smiled politely and parted
You were not the one
No hard feelings as we said goodbye
No memories to put into boxes
No torn cardboard revealing the mess
We never sat on the floor, exploring each others faces
I never saw your questioning eyes
Why did I let you go?
Why didn’t I beg you to stay?
Why did I let you down?We both laughed, as our eyes betrayed us
I clenched my teeth to stop the smile cracking
But it cracked, when I saw your brow quiver
And we cried,
And cried,
And cried
Holding you in this chapter for the last time,
I cried
You should never have had to go
It shouldn’t have been me that said goodbye
If I could rewrite our story
You would never have loved me
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Nostalgia #3
Nostalgia the guest arriving unexpected
Cowering yet pigeon chested
Memories cherished and time tested
Accruing interest over time, fighting the haze and commotion of lesser thoughts
Impressive in their claims
Famous to those that recall the tall tales of endless nights
Senseless tantalising trips down memory lane
Severing themselves from the fact, barely intact,
Bordering on lies, nostalgia serves pain dressed as pleasure
A memento mori
A tearful story
Wiping away it’s suffering
And smiling as you look into it’s eyes
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When I’m old
Walking tall, slick hair glistening
Spouting pretence like everyone is listeningA peacock a strutting fool
Professing though still at schoolRiding on charisma and a smile
Substance is only for abuse
It’s all about styleBut one day the words fail
And all assurances grow staleTired eyes replace the sleaze
Gasping for air,
too many treesWhen all that I am has gone
When every ounce is sold
Promise me one thing
Still be my girl when I’m old.
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