Just Dan.

Poetry of the Dead

I spend whole days when i’m alive, reading poetry of the dead

Like zombies, I bring them back to life with their words

And they spend the whole time, trying to get into my brain

Reanimated writers, long lost poets, and lovesick lovers

Like a horde they chase me through my late nights

One day soon they’ll overwhelm me, feast on and consume me

With images and metaphors too complicated or too beautiful

But I’ll hole up in a shopping mall, get myself a blunt instrument

Like a bottle of jack, a novel or a piece of paper and a pen

I’ll bash their bloody skulls in, so that they stop walking

And so that everything they’ve written, doesn’t linger for days

If no-one reads their work, they lose their flesh and fall apart

Their literature, their works of art will rot and decay

 So then I can concentrate on something else for a change

Dancing With Marionettes

I’m always dancing with Marionettes

Everyone is doing the same thing

With the same blank expression,

And their limbs look limp and lifeless

As they’re spinning and spinning around

Just spinning around the dance floor

They don’t even get dizzy, or fall over their feet

They just move constantly, and don’t notice a thing

Endlessly swaying and waltzing in a circle

Ever polite and graceful on their feet

Light and elegant, not a move out of time

Almost everything they do is too perfect.

But they’re puppets controlled by the string

There’s no emotion, no feeling, no passion, no life

They dance faster and faster, but not a beat out of time

Oh how I long for the bright eyes of someone alive

To be my partner for the rest of the night

Or if I can’t have that, just please give me the string

They’ll be my dancing marionettes, and oh! How i’ll sing

And they’ll move to my voice, spinning in circles and circles

At least then, they’ll be dancing for something.

Modern Art

I draw your outline in pencil and I rub away

The parts I don’t like, you’re broken up now

An incoherent shape, your lines blurred.

Now I have the perfect outline of your figure

With which to paint a shallow watercolour

I don’t mean to but I over-wash the paintbrush

Too much water makes your face run over lines

Drowned is not how I see you in my mind at all

I start again.

This time I scratch harsh lines in as your frame

I carelessly add details like your mouth and eyes

But when it comes to colouring I can’t remember

What colour, I try out every single one

But none of them seemed right, your eyes lied

They wouldn’t tell me what colour they were

So instead I leave them white and blank

You never saw me, now I can’t see you at all

Just like modern art, Some people don’t get it

Some people never will

Lost Like Tears In The Rain

The water clings to our skin, just like this last kiss

Will linger in my memory, I’ll never forget this.

As the drops bounce off the pavement around our feet

And puddles start forming around you and me

The raindrops hide my emotions as the tears blend into them

I don’t care how loud the thunder is, I can only hear our breath

Heavy like the rain, you said goodbye then walked away

And left me standing in the cold all alone and soaking wet.

Don’t fall asleep listening to the rain and the thunder

Because you’ll drown in constant dreams of her

And you’ll wake up screaming as she fills your lungs

Every drop a thought of her, till they’re full and you can’t breathe

You choke and gasp for air, then the storm finishes before it’s begun

I miss her but she’s lost like tears in the rain.

Eyes Like The Ocean

All the boyish confidence was nothing more than smoke and mirrors

All my breath that I once took for granted, leaves me on my own

I am lost and I won’t be found, the search party isn’t getting closer

I was swept away at sea, and I am drowning, they won’t find me.

I try to speak, but there’s no air, and no-one around to hear a thing.

I’m scared because the ocean is so huge and I’ve never felt so small

But mostly because the water is so silent, there’s no noise at all.

And all the thoughts in my mind are racing but I can’t hear myself think.

So I’m just left all confused, with not a clue about what they mean.

I start sinking to the bottom; the light is slowly fading away

I try screaming but it’s hopeless, the water just fills my lungs.

When I’ve drifted to the bottom, and hit the sea-bed I close my eyes.

Then I hear an echo, it’s your voice but I can’t hear a word you’re saying.

It’s coming from the distance, like a memory getting closer, it gets louder

I open my eyes, and all the light comes rushing back, the colours flooding in.

My feet land firmly on the ground, I’m overwhelmed by everything.

I’m surrounded by four walls but I can’t figure out if I’m alive.

I have to check that I’m still breathing, I am and it’s the only thing I hear

As I listen to each single breath, everything starts getting clearer.

The colour in front of me starts taking shape into things I recognise.

I’m confused, but I’m at peace, not a single thought goes through my mind.

I take a deep breath, it feels cleansing, and it helps to still the butterflies.

As they are fluttering in circles and patterns deep inside of me.

And I realise that it’s all because of you, it’s all because I lose myself in you

I’m so glad you can’t see you cause this emotion in me

Every time you look at me with eyes like the ocean.

Charity

They said I looked good in that red shirt

The one from some god-forsaken charity shop

It’s last owner committed suicide, apparently

It’s tight around the neck but it hangs well.

When I wear it they always say I look familiar,

 Or that I remind them of someone.

That’s because this look isn’t my own.

I borrowed it from a box of a dead man’s things

It’s not like he really needs it anyway.

But it is the one he wore when he died.

The material hanging as loosely as he did.

Obviously, I washed it before I wore it

It was left as pale as a ghost, all the colours ran

All the red drained away from the top to the bottom.

I hung it out to dry and it swung from side to side

Just like I imagine he did, a shadowy pendulum

I didn’t want to wear it anymore, so I put it on a hanger

In the back of a cold dark cupboard to forget

The next day I went back to the shop and said

“Last week I bought a dead man’s favourite red shirt,

Do you have the rope and the chair to complete the set?”

I’ll keep them all together in some secret place

So that if I ever hang myself, they won’t be found at all

So no-one could have my things when I’ve kicked over the stool.