Rhyme Exercise: End Times

Some GCSE kids write rock songs about living in ‘the end times’,

fumbling over syllables and the length of lines,

soul searching for the most desperate rhymes.

One of them heard Tom Waits for the very first time.

Now everything’s the devil in disguise,

and that waitress,

sure,

she’s got marmalade thighs

but he doesn’t know why

or whether it’s a good thing, besides,

his lyrics are still sticky and adolescent inside.

Like the tissues hiding down his bedside

This is the kid who learnt how to make love and socialise

By repeatedly watching those Central Perk guys.

His favourite has changed from Joey to Ross.

S’pose he feels like he can empathise.

‘I prefer Seinfeld anyway’ he lies

Still forgetting to dot his ‘I’s

But he pretends to prefer anything his friends

don’t know

don’t like

or even despise.

It justifies him feeling marginalised.

Heck, maybe these are the end times

But who ever promised him otherwise?

Undone v.II

But you’re stuck

Again.

Watching the caught up Sun

come undone

for you.

Watching it strip

itself of colour

and cry

for you.

And wash

out the sky

for you.

But you’re stuck

Again.

Watching the colour ooze

from the easel

from the earth

as it gives birth to excuses

for you.

From the sea

from your poetry

from you.

from me.

Till all you see are

Fleeting glimpses of the nothings

that flash

through the peeking spaces

of closed blinds

in that timeless space

where you’re ‘trying’.

But you’re stuck.

Still.

And when the Sun flicks the switch

and finishes itself

You’ll lay the blame

on somebody else.

So that you might find

yourself un

stuck

for the shortest time.

Recycled Diary Entry #2: ‘Honesty vs Imagery’ v.2 By Steve O’Key

The Awkward Boyfriends

Honest vs Imagery

Good mood.

Smiling.

Trying to sleep.

pictures crying blood weep.

Tell me I’ve misunderstood.

You know it’s not real.

It’s alright.

curse gets worse children dying set alight.

screaming. Crying.

Dreaming.

Switch the light on.

Shared bed.

Shaking. Scared.

Getting late. Wide awake.

Try to sleep.

Stuck too deep.

Pictures.

bodies moving breaking

wasting exhausting holocaust

gas mask straight back she.

She.

Sh-She tries to calm me.

With pictures

of Us.

 

A quiet room.

That calm, commercial hotel art.

A cold stone hearth

for feet to escape

a huggable heat.

Mahogany walls that cradle

a crooning fireplace

to light up

an empty space a starved face

severed head single bed

rotting corpse staring upwards

 

Staring

 

self-harm air raid alarms bleeding arms

sprayed red.

It’s in your head.

 

Staring

 

Sleep with the light on.

T-shirt too tight on.

Awake with…

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Recycled Diary Entry #1

A good mood.

Smiling.

Trying to sleep.

Then pictures. Crying. Blood. Weep.

Tell myself I’ve misunderstood.

I AM happy!

So why?

Curse. Gets worse. Children dying. Screaming.

Dreaming.

Switch the light on.

Shared bed.

Shaking, scared.

Very late. Wide awake.

Try to sleep.

Pictures.

Bodies moving.

Breaking. Wasting. Exhausting. Holocaust. Gas mask. Straight back. She.

She.

Sh-She tries to calm me.

Pictures.

Us.

A beautiful room.

A big fireplace.

An empty face. Severed head.

Single bed. Rotting corpse. Staring upwards.

Staring.

Staring.

It’s in my head.

Sleep with the light on. T-shirt too tight on.

Awake with the light on.

Too bright. Too much.

Too dark to sleep tonight.

Undone

But you’re stuck
Again
Watching the caught up sun come undone
for you.
Watching it strip
itself of colour and cry
for you.
And wash out the sky
for you.
But you’re stuck
Again.
Watching the colour fade from the earth and then from the sea
Watching it fade from space
from you.
From me. Till all you see are
Fleeting glimpses of the nothing
But you’re stuck.
Still.
And when the sun flicks the switch and finishes itself
You’ll lay the blame on somebody else.
So you can find yourself unstuck
For the shortest time.

Recycled Lyrics #1: Time Piece

Cassette reels to CDs, still sealed,
I’m not listening, I’m playing
loops, chasing after you, worn out
shoes, and you’re lost looking for the next route.

Friction sores: losing the wrong war.
What the heck were we fightin for?
for weak reflections from dirty windows
willing it on,
turning time,
never watching where it goes.
I’m never letting go

Oh
Please don’t try
and shield the rain,
play me
my favourite song again.
It’s inside my head.
Crocodile tears, empty threats.
We know trying wont ease the pain.
I’ll just stop filing my scenes with rain,
There’s no more original imagery
anyway
Tomorrow is today
take the silver
spoon from my mouth,
and I’ll find those cotton clouds
someday.

When you feel your wounds
won’t heal. You turn
against the loyal troops
that learn to drift through
and miss the cues, just wandering
Wondering how best to lose.

Take a turn on the oars and do all your chores.
What the heck am I crying for?
You’re praying
that the minute hand slows

turning time,
never watching where it goes.
I’m never letting go

Oh please! Don’t hide behind the rain.
Put on that happy song again.
It’s inside my head.
Crocodile tears, empty threats.
Lying wont ease the pain,
so stop trying to catch the rain.
Spent too long willing that the limelight shows

Tomorrow is today
Take the silver
spoon from your mouth

and you will taste those cotton clouds
Someday

The clocks
ticking the gun
shot the others
running me
not

Oh please don’t try and fight the rain.
The world just turns around again.
It’s inside my head,
right?

A ball-point romance and an empty bed,
crying won’t switch on the night light 
It may be hard to take the strain
the pain will never outweigh
knowing that tomorrow is today
but take that final word from your mouth
and you will feel those cotton clouds
Someday.