A Few Poems...

Here are a few poems which i recently rediscovered under my bed.  They were published in TADEEB magazine back in 2008.  You can view TADEEB publications online at http://www.tadeeb.com/  Enjoy:

‘The need’

Would it have made a difference?

If the implement I reached was not black but blue.

To sum up your beauty through words,

and jump-start ‘the need’ to continue.

All those miniscule moments,

that keep us in contact,

as if our love being special, betters all that has past.

We kissed eyes open, then collapsed,

‘The need’ to bring it back.

And sum up why these things,

make me alive.

Through a truth unlike the other poems.

Written for ego reasons to impress,

to show off my intellect.

But for now, the zenith of your beauty cannot be peaked.

For now, I can’t write like Brooke or Tennyson.

Although I’ll adamantly try, with this line and that line

                                                                                      

Because I love you,

and I’m scared it won’t be enough,

                                                                                                      

Never enough… 

Computer Games

It seems my generation abuse few words,

button-clicking through days,

exchanging love letters for emails,

joining best friends through wires,

triggering them all to dead.

But this daily death match was my life.

I managed to cope in the time-trials,

spending hours perfecting my racing lines

to a pixelated goal.

And since I’ve failed to match such achievement,

in a pubbing or clubbing environment,

in this real world where another race seems to matter,

being the fastest pint-downer or comedic one-liner.

Those friends and me were left at the bend,

discussing next-gen’s possibilities,

talking up the future we can comprehend,

like Orwell predicting next year’s men.

And on this double bed, as minute as a single polygon,

I lie doing the same.

Existing in an outdated disc, with friends passing by.

Here I can naturally and robotically function,

but in the real world I die…

Polling Station

There were no voters my age,

leaving the grey-haired heroes to tick recurrently.

With the same pen they’d grew up with.

They placed ticks instantly, without contemplation

though through glasses party names blur into one.

Then dropped the slips eagerly into the box,

folding ten times, pretending secrecy. 

But it’s ‘outside the box’ where secrets are held,

I could never guess the beliefs of my friends,

I don’t know the truth behind war,

I don’t know why the prisons are full

But I say ‘burn’ to them all,

bring back capital punishment.

Though my freedoms are slowly eroding

under the mask of the tabloid media.

As I know where Beckham shops for clothes,

yet I don’t know the latest passed laws.

Have they changed the one when an intruder enters your home?

Or can you still only use reasonable force?

And what the hell happened to chicken flu?

Are you, controlling the switch of global panic through exaggeration?

Are you working to scaremonger us all through terrorism?

Take responsibility for the terrorists right here in Britain,

the white scum on the streets with no beliefs.

It is them, who wind up the county’s minorities,

it was them who bullied me into believing the world is rotting, more each day.

And you ask why nationalism is steadily growing

into its own illegal immigrant minority?

Turning our flag to the cross of crucifixion,

to the red cross of football hooliganism.

And it’s my generation; they’ll attribute this downfall.

Where are they now as the votes are counted?

They could have reversed it all for good, 

a sweet revolution.

Maybe they’ve used the postal vote. 

MORE POETRY SOON...