Somebody once asked me
why poetry needs to be
so depressingly lonely.
It’s quite simple. See
We long to be longed for
We yearn to be adored
Yet become easily bored
By the simple moments
that drag us along the torrents
of current events
we need to vent
about our feelings
when our mind’s reeling
emotion overwhelms us
we are taught not to fuss
and thus

we resort to venting
to needlepoint or painting
whatever makes us feel

we thrive
on chaos, on devastation
anything for the sensation
of being truly


Untitled emotions

Failures swarm my mind like locusts to a field
I cracked my whip but they would not yield
To my command no matter how harshly I spoke
They trample me, belittle me, and I feel like a joke
Not the good type either, but the punch line is me
The funny part is that I can never imagine to be
Somebody other than who I am at my core
I could not be less and I could not be more

All the faces around me, waiting to critique
My style, my form, my shape and technique
The way I park and the type of mother I am
The lover I’d be if I actually gave a damn
About the things I’m supposed to be instead
The faceless masses that exist in my head
Always whispering, always tearing me to shreds
I’ve got a shell that I wish I could shed
A light that I’m too afraid to let shine
A love that will forever be only mine
But maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to go
Maybe there are parts of me that only I know

I cannot fathom the idea of unconditional romantic affection
When every interaction is a symbiotic trade transaction
Where the very basis of the sale is based on how frail
My perception of me is supposed to be, how easy to derail
the truth, because I get a taste of youth and you get some tail.
The terms are unclear, and my dear, you never know what it entails
When you are squirming amongst the remnants of the entrails
Of what society has produced. What we have become.
The toxic waste. The harmful emissions. We are one.
The gluttonous grimy greed of tomorrow
Drowns itself in self imposed sorrow
Distract us from the fact that we are in fact hollow
Babe I can fill your lonely heart if only you’d swallow

But maybe when bio-chemicals meet
As it were, much like you and I
The gasses could be poisonous sweet
(But not enough to make you die)
The element that could make iron erode and rust
could very well be what makes rubidium combust


I feel… vulnerable on the inside.
I want to be seen, but also, I wanna hide
My hands feel empty, in the way
My lips know not which words to say
My heart doesn’t know how to stay
I can’t make the feelings go away
I reach
To feel connected to anything else
I search, my hand lingers, dwells
On something that brings me comfort
Human touch? I would not think to resort
To such instability to stabilize me.
Me. My life is so filled with myself
I can’t see anything or anyone else
I want to run. I want to scream
But I am trapped. Glued to a screen
That taunts, gleams, teems
With life outside of me
Things I’d want to be
Places I want to see
Oh how I long to be free
We live vicariously through our friends
Because the news feed never ends
There is always a story, always a tweet
Some drink, some smoke, others eat
And some stare blankly at their phones
Perhaps to break the steady monotone
That their lives have become, 
Or perhaps to not feel so numb
In search of connection, we isolate
An effort to authentic turns to fake
We constantly talk, yet rarely communicate
So often we argue, and rarely debate
This cannot possibly be our fate?
I long for the days when we were unplugged
Before a facebook like took the place of love
We used to carry blankies to comfort unease
Now it’s a different dummy we use to appease
Our chit chit chattering minds
I hope that we can find a way to find
Ourselves, alongside one another
I want to switch off, and I wonder
At the truth behind less is more
The emptiness keeping us at war
With ourselves can only be filled
With more of us, you do not build
A brick wall with anything other than brick
Let’s talk minus phone and dance minus music
Find your tune; make it sweet and melodic
Let’s do more dreaming and less posting about it.
More living our lives and less talking about it. 

The slumbering ones

Eyes open hearts closed
Automatically predisposed
Towards the herd mentality
They live detached from reality
So dull these lives, colorless minds
That they simply cannot see the signs

The meaningless spiral they call life
Struggle every day just to survive
Not alive but not dead either
Can one endure a life so meager?
No hope for tomorrow
No lesson from yesterday
Drowning in the sorrow
Of chances thrown away
Opportunities wasted
Dreams gone by

How long they’ve waited
Only just to die
For in death’s bitter embrace
They would have found
By the last sweetest dance
We are forever bound
Fight to live to live to die
This has become our battle cry.

For LiNa 

Open your eyes.
Look at me
I want you to see this
I want you to be
Present in this moment
I want you to see

How the red flows
Wind blows
Leaves through the air
With such graceful flair
The metallic scent
Heaven sent
What better incentive
To live
Than death
Every breath
Becomes a battle
Becomes a victory
Did I rattle
Your sense of reality?

Open your eyes
Look at me
I have a surprise
Now we can be free

The Age of the Watchers

I am Miekie
And we are
They are
This is

The age of the watchers

The big bad men are watching
Big men in disguise
Big bad men are teaching us
To believe in their lies
Big bad men are amongst us
And it’s time to open your eyes

Preacher man, doctor man, man behind the screen
If no one is paid to listen, no one hears you scream.
Big men carrying bibles
Big men with degrees
Crucial to your survival
And don’t you dare to disagree

They seek to control
They aim to destroy
They have no fucking soul
and your life is but their toy
Money the objective
Power drives them on
Listen to the narrative
Never to abandon

The art that unites us
The words that set us free
The truth that empowers us
Is within you and me

Big bad men; we’re watching
We’re watching your every move
We can see you hiding
From a battle you will lose
Big bad men challenge the many
Until the many point them out
Listen to the lyrical symphony
That we are bringing about

Painters – paint! Writers – write!
T’is time to unite!
To stand for what’s right!
Male, female, black, white;
Stand with me tonight
Tis the only way we will win this fight!

Big bad men, we are coming
Armed with paint and ink
Big bad men, start running
Jump ship before you sink.

Broken rhyme

I’ve cut my fingers countless times
With shards of glass and broken rhymes
Broken promises cut deeper than blades
But after a while, the pain starts to fade
Anxieties grow louder and emotion gets weak
Some days I hate every word that I speak
Every lie that rolls off my tongue
Because of every truth I tell no one

It contradicts every fiber of my being
What I feel is not what you are seeing
This outer shell is sweet and pure
I come across as confident, mature
But inside me dwells a child
Scared, irrational and wild

She demands my attention, grabs my throat
Babe why swim when you can float?
Stay right here with me, my dear
Stay wrapped up in the clutches of fear
This other person living in my head
Has tainted every word I have said
Every cry for help turned into a joke
I try, and I fail, and I start to choke
The air is sucked from my universe

And I retreat, that she may reverse
This effect she has when she gets mad
Maybe I don’t need to get out all that bad
I try with all my might
But maybe she is right
I want to stand and fight
But if I do she just might
I want to step into the light
But the sun shines too bright
There is no end in sight
And so
I write


My throat feels raw and dry
As though by breathing I
Am attempting to defy
The very essence of my
Seeing tomorrow loom
My body becomes a tomb
Every moment comes too soon
Every moment comes too late
And I become everything I hate
Nothing able to can satiate
My masochistic desires
My brain needs to be rewired
Or maybe I am just tired


I do not think of suicide anymore
The soft touch of a sharp blade or
The silence to be had after the war
No, I do not think of suicide anymore
I contemplate not
Snapped necks, brains on the floor
Bodies left out to rot
Glazed over eyes that see no more
I do not think of suicide anymore

Send me love

Don’t send me flowers, because flowers tend to die
And I don’t want to think about death when thinking of you and I
Don’t send me chocolates, they last but a moment in time
And I’d like to believe that you will be forever mine

But darling, if you will, do send me books instead
Because like love, they change the heart and head
Their words etch themselves into your soul
And they give you new ways to view the world

Darling send me novels, send me what I adore
Send me some of you, and then send me some more
Send me words that changed your life, words that made you weep
Inspire my soul, teach me love, send me something that I can keep

In a life where everything eventually comes to an end
Be with me, be present, because presence needn’t be sent.