It be well

I red a lot when I were young

Books and poems wrote by authors

People I dreamed of becoming

There words made me feel knew

They replenished my mind

And cleansed my sole

I writ until my hand did blister

And then I writ some more

I tried to find the secret, but

Wear it was I never discovered

In a book I red at school

One man writ that grammar,

That old muse, was key.

Yet, after all that I have read

and seen, and felt,

I say that love cannot be tamed,

By grammar, or anything else,

For when you love something,

Truly,

You give your time, your life to it,

You never stop,

And then one day

You start to get it right,

And suddenly,

Your dream of writing an epic poem

For generations to come to admire,

To create a world of wonder,

To make that girl proud

Of the person she has become,

It be well.

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Raiders of the Very Lost Ark

My mind is like a boulder

Speeding past everything,

Stopping for nothing,

No time for anything.

I never did like Indiana Jones,

You know,

The one with the shrivelling man?

That one terrified me.

 

Is Anyone Out There?

I came here bushy-eyed and bright-tailed,

No, wait, what was it they said?

With an open mind I flew right in

Regardless of humiliation, and pain.

Anxiety followed me here, that’s right,

The soul sucking curse couldn’t let go.

Friends and family look on like I’m lost,

Which I do not doubt, but I do doubt myself.

Is there anyone else here? Honestly, please.

Show yourselves, you supposed angels

Such wonder I was promised, yet behold,

Nothing.

Drama was something I loved,

But the wizard didn’t pay out,

So I kept the shoes and ran.

Where are the people, where is the community?

My tail is dulling and my eyes are moulting,

Perhaps this isn’t the place to be,

perhaps it is.

The apocalypse would show me more company,

Solidarity is in the heart of a mindless corpse,

I could have an army of friends – don’t say it.

I came here, that was enough then,

But now you crave more, you demand it.

Where are you? You aren’t here, are you?

I thought not, but still I savagely write,

Passage after passage.

Take me there, to the centre of your world,

But don’t get too close. I get attached.

It gets messy.

Crazed eyes forever watching, where are you now?

Silence is all I find, and plotting,

Money, views, money, views, money,

The driving force, the protagonist, the villain,

The prize yet to be won.

You are at home, you are found,

Whilst I sit outside, thunder in my heart,

Rain on my brow. I don’t like rain.

I hate the outside, I can’t stand the inside,

But I want to go there, and be here.

Bushy brights, tailed eyes,

I’ve got you, don’t worry.

I’ve got you.