Because of Love

If you were to make a list of things you should never do in the name of love

After the laughter had ceased when you first said

Stop

Then you might say, do not give love cheaply

Do not fall so easily

Because for all the bullshit about flying afterwards

The pavements are stained with the blood of broken birds that didn’t make it

You might say do not fall in love with the wrong person

You might as well say do not fall in love

Why do we say nobody’s perfect

But demand perfection in ourselves

Why do we go through the motions

Why do we still play against moving goalposts

It’s just a game to those who do lot like it

It is the lifeblood flowing through those who do

We hurt ourselves because we love you

The masochistic tango is our tune

Get Thee To Bed

I like to write at night when everyone is asleep

And no one can hear me stumbling stuttering

Saying something deep sending it twisting and tumbling

Turning it into something cheap

A punch line or bunting a not over brunch thing

A terribly overdone should have been counting sheep

Million miles a minute rain’s a natural beat

Never be making a killing but making mistakes

To fill the silence

Playing the record again on repeat

Playing the record again on repeat

I like to write at night no

The keys go tic tac as I type no

Why do I do this I do not know

I should gym get wider and go for broke

Ruin mothers like gin be a stylish bloke

Swag so much yolo I start to choke

When I shout marco you shout

I write at night when I have no time

And not every poem has a punchline

Password protected

This poem is password protected

It isn’t for you to see

And it is a little bit about you but a little bit about me

I’m not uncomfortable with being vulnerable

It’s just a bitch to spell

I keep forgetting the L

Like, am I the venerable son of an eloquent thespian

Or the vulnerable son of a feminist lesbian

Can’t we be both?

The most common regret of the dying is not living a life true to yourself

But what if you’re a dick?

And being one is not exclusive to having one

But I can’t seriously say bitch

Living life in a bechdel test

Maleness is a spectre at best

But I still managed to live a love life

Of lies, violence and regret

Not to mention drunk

Expressed only through text

And an instance of excess sex

This is the only excess I’ll ever mention

I’ve done funny for so long serious is another dimension

So I won’t talk about drinking till I’m sick

I’ll sing the saga of alcohol man

And his porcelain sidekick

Because serious is fucking boring

So strap up Shirley

Where we’re going there won’t be no snoring

With a voice clear to carry cross the ocean

I say

U

N

B

O

U

N

D

And set myself free

At least the side that you can see

Funny first line

Funny first line

This is the poem in a nutshell but it works off of your assumptions as to what that line means

Cementing this poem as not one that sounds nice

But as one that solidifies our sense of shared understanding

As to how the world really works

And how we choose to talk about it makes us better than other people

Because we understand the joke

Inspirational first line

This is a poem that aims to leave you going oh my god

Even if you’re an atheist

A poem built on a background of mmms and awws and clicked fingers

Because to applaud would mean you’re missing something

Perhaps a profound statement that will change your life for all of five minutes

Before you go back to being shaped by your family and your friends

Or your lack of them

Expositional first line

This line explains important information that could not be worked into the poem in any other way

It is clunky but because it is the first line you’ve forgotten by the time the poem is in its stride

Like a lover who never had the time to learn about foreplay

And practised punch lines hunched over a keyboard

When they should have been in the park looking at nature or some shit

First line that is also the title

This is the strong start that just couldn’t wait

For any of the important stuff in the middle part

And the last line is just what you used the first time

The funny first line

Performance anxiety

I’m not the first to say that poetry is like sex

And I’ll admit I’m not the best

Judge of what constitutes good

But when I watch other poets perform

I can hear the silent roar of the crowd

The gathering storm that’s building up and up and up

And maybe I should start to give a fuck

But then my poem is done

It had a good run

For all of thirty seconds

Two minutes tops if I

Slow it

Right

Down

And prepare a bit of banter just before the show

But it’s only recently that I started to really write poetry

I’m sure with practice I’ll craft a six minute flow easily

Unless you’re like me and you like short poetry

With sharp explosive bursts

Instead of never ending imagery

The sort of poem that just goes on and on and on

Which isn’t bad but wasn’t what you were expecting

So you’re working out a shopping list or just mentally texting

No this is a poem with a fucking climax

Take as and when needed to help you relax

Ours is the Kingdom

If poems were songs then I would still be a musician

Transplant me spitting rhymes in the kitchen

Hands getting soapy washing the dinner dishes

With a long haired hippy stumbling over three chords

Not stuttering trying to say more

In one breath

I’m just playing smoke on the water to death

And I should have seen the signs then

The fire burning underneath the surface

Bubbling up from an underwater vent

Powered by the molten core of the earth I’ll spit words till I’m spent

Till the continents themselves are rent and torn asunder

You might mistake my voice for the sound of thunder

So while you ask yourself how did he stoop so low

I will blow you away with a verbal guitar solo

Because I walk with Wordsworth and Shakespeare’s got my back

And I know if they were alive today they would be practicing rap

See wordsmiths shine a light and the light says walk this way

And we step on the shoulders of giants to reach up to a higher plane

See thanks to the power of science we no longer live in caves

But the oral tradition will stay with us till the end of all our days

As long as there is someone still alive with breath to tell a story

Then the human race will never die

Ours is the fucking glory

Ours is the kingdom and ours is the power

And it’s only taken from us because we allow it

So if anything that I’ve said resonates with you

Take out your old banners and fight for the truth

If poems were songs then I’d still be a soldier

Just another poor soul going uphill with a boulder

And I’m trying to say more in one breath