sparrows

Sorry mom for not writing back
there were sparrows by the
bar I was at

remember the time
we found a baby
on the ground its
feathers fluffy grey
‘may we keep it?’ I said
(I’ve always wanted a pet)
you said yes
so we brought it back

but dad thought no
the bird had to go
we argued and you put me to bed

the next morning
I was yanked out of sleep by
weak squeals as sharp as
hate
breaking a harp sound travels well
and I could just tell
it was from outside—
the stairwell

I asked if you threw it away
you said ‘I wouldn’t do that,
it’s still alive! All I did was put it outside!’

but as you said it you
avoided my eyes
and that was when you taught me to lie

so (,) sorry
I can’t write back now
the sparrows are here
and they look confused

the sun’s back anew
but
the rain’s blurring the view

they never learn
by now they should know
sometimes
love’s behind murder and lies

Noah I

‘and so it came to pass…’
‘don’t speak like the people
who say “Alas!” we’re young–

you’re only a hundred and one’
‘Sorry babes I’m just worried
about father I’m afraid

he’s losing it’ Ham and Bethany
were nestled in a cave
as they did for many a day.

it was far away
from their village,
on a ridge where his

wife Nahalath would never
visit. It’s been going
on for a while now

these gentle rendezvous
ending in passionate scuffles.
Beth keeps asking him

‘What is your wife not able
to do? Why me?’ to which
Ham only says ‘it’s neither her

nor you, it’s me. If anything,
it’s her goddamn name
it’s so long and lame’

‘Anyway father thinks
there’s gonna be this flood
apparently the world can’t be fixed

and this is the last tactic’
Beth frowned, this didn’t sound like
the God she knew

but she kept this to herself
a principle that meant
a lot of wise words were left unsaid.

‘So what’s Noah going to do?’
‘Well you must have heard
he’s building this ark-

it’s all a bit absurd-
that’s going to mark
a fresh start.

all the animals will go
in that huge vessel
and we’ll brave the storm

and won’t even bother to mourn.’
‘will you take me with you?’
there was a pause

the weighted kind where
thoughts briefly linger,
steam-like as he glanced towards the fading light
My most ambitious project yet– re-writing Noah’s Ark in modern verse, with added twists. Like and follow to support.  

postmark

‘1 euro very cheap!’
the dreadlocked male
in the

knocked down stall
points
at a bundle of

old letters
‘you collect stamps?’
a blind date

question-
I hate those
No

they’re for my mother
I picked two
DDR era letters

they were written
by the same person
looks like a girl’s

writing light
green on the paper its
edges

exhausted brown
from its fight
with reality

luckily
I don’t speak
German so it could be

anything–
a love letter
that outlasted love

ich liebe dich
(in faded pink)
sounds familiar

maybe it was
the last one
maybe somewhere

was it’s not
you it’s me
maybe I’m just

reading myself
into it maybe
they were just friends

maybe one was
a spy
which would be ironic

either way
they’d never had known
that their story

would be sold to
an idiot
for a euro

god hotline

 

if I had
a hotline to
god I’d

probably bother
him so much
with petty

complaints like
the oh-so-tragic-
stressful-empty-

in-constant
existential-flux
life

that’d he’d put
me on
answer phone

but I don’t
so I guess
I can moan

Day 19 of National Poetry Month. a piece a day is hard! like, follow and share to support.

sketch II

 

Tiredness is when
finally your schedule
is empty all you

can do is sit
and stare at the
invisible tick tock

of the clock echoing
in the space of your
solitude and your

heartbeat (out of
sync with the world)
is not concerned

 

Day 15 of National Poetry Month’s a poem a day challenge. Please follow, share and like to support. 

500 characters

500 characters
or less
who do you think

we are lives
translatable into
bite sized

bytes for you
to banish into
modern limbo

I can make
tiramisu
that’s a real

pull me up
I know the
difference between

espresso
and shitwater
I know

the value of
a morning kiss
given through

misty light diffused
between paper
blinds

irrelavent
you say
well here’s

something relevant
people die
everyday

but I don’t see
why we
can’t believe in fairies

Got really pissed at the word limit for one of my internship applications, so wrote this poem as an artsy fuck you. For the record, I’m still looking for a summer job.