Green room

 

We are so doomed,

showing war

the green room.

Inviting it onto our shows

to talk to us like

we are buffoons.

We listen to its lies

whilst it capitalises

on the unjust pride

of right-wing loons,

whilst quietly filling

stations with its hard men goons.

 

War is the sort of guest

that always outstays

any welcome.

It fires an array

of wild-eyed opinions

and portrays them as fact.

It acts

fiercely racist, its views

obnoxious and dumb.

Clumsily trying

to entice the crowd

by acting loud,

making them numb.

It makes you oblivious

to the horror that will spill

from its mouth, spiteful and vicious.

A lie for every kill.

Spewing out

once the cameras start to run.

 

It gets its claws

into the upholstery,

talking constantly.

A barrage of white noise.

Overwhelming the host,

who soon has his mic switched off

to quieten his voice.

Any groans of unrest

from the jittery crowd,

it drowns by cracking

jokes, bravado painted loud.

Whilst the crowd are whittled down

to a few sheep that bleat along,

little realising they are singing

their own slaughter song.

 

Quickly changing

the theme tune,

it creates an atmosphere in the room.

Antagonistic and grim,

it leads with tales of doom,

whilst smiling through its crooked evil grin.

It paints for us a picture,

A future where hope starts to grow thin,

where the only option

is for the bombs

to keep dropping

and the money

to keep rolling in.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

Splits

 

Let me in,

screeches the unearthly noise

as it slithers between

thoughts.

Disconnecting

the wires protecting them.

LET ME WIN…

I am never giving in.

This voice you hear,

it is only the beginning.

 

You'll feel every word.

Sharp, jagged.

Slicing against your mind

from the inside.

A headache

that leaves you blind.

A pain like none

you ever believed existed,

a box you have never untied.

A gift that you were never gifted.

And now it's seeping

into every guttural cry.

Out of your eyes

through the agony

dripping

to the ground

to carry the pain

into the earth,

as the tears

slowly scream

and die.

 

Listen.

LISTEN…

It is insistent. The pain blisters,

then bubbles, pops and oozes.

It splurges over thoughts,

rewires your fuses.

I am the end of days.

I am the darkness

at the bottom of

forgotten pathways,

and I've always

been leading you this way.

 

Thoughts now lie

like wispy clouds across

a crimson sky.

Drifting into the storm of

pain that sits

just at the edge of time.

 

That drone of fear.

The hum you hear,

which sits inside

your timid ears. I put it there.

I created its sound.

I am it's master.

Kneel down before me now.

It is time to beg and plead.

Pray if you like, it won't help a bit

The volume won't 

be turned down.

Watch as the universe splits...

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

Blind spot

 

They want you to cut away

the child within.

Leave it petrified

in a mental funhouse

somewhere on an island far away.

 

They want you stamped,

tagged and certified.

Join their ocean of mind drudgery,

sludgy feet circling endlessly.

Worn, threadbare bones creak,

but they will take away

any unsteady feelings within,

as your movements provide power

for the hypnotic microwave beams.

Pulsing their messages into collective heads.

identical clones of you, slopping along

to that same wretched marching beat

of a million circling feet.

 

They want you to throw away the toys,

throw away mystery,

bleat the same lie ridden story.

In exactly the same speech tone.

They preach on. This cabal

from some weird phantom zone,

they have been here all along,

so why haven't we noticed them

over such a time frame?

or even dared to give them a name?

Spread the disease, it's airborne but no mask

will stop it breaching.

It's in the very words we are speaking.

 

Why do they want to unplug

our child side so much?

Ignore imaginary friends,

block out those things that sit

on the edge of an excitable brain.

Not yet plugged into the mainframe,

not yet being fed with the

plunging tunnels of dread,

the sinkholes of adulthood.

Ignore the doors

that sit where no door should sit.

Where no other side connects.

Ignore windows,

clearly visible on the outside,

that are nowhere to find

when taking corridors in your stride.

 

These people would never lie

or have anything to hide,

the echo chamber chimes.

The media propaganda machine

will always feed the beast

that keeps them purposely blind.

Ignoring the pathways

that start and stop

in the middle of nowhere,

just focus on paper money

and the joy it can sing.

Not the thousands of paper cuts

from all the lies that they bring.

 

Why do they want to unplug

our child side so much?

Why do they want us to stop

bathing in colours of love?

Is it because these

beings are colourblind

and that puts us

in their blind spot?

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle