This is not that poem
You can pronoun the shit out of the situation but you can still be wrong, and you’ll be made to understand that you have been so wrong. You can apologise and yet be classed as ignorant, no room for manoeuvre. You can be anything but right. You’re white, therefore you’re wrong. You can protest but that’s violence: there’s a lawsuit on the way. You have hip friends, young and interesting, They depart with each word you say. You studied feminism yet you’re sexist Cos you dare challenge the new convention. Even though the old one needed toppling You expressed doubt that it needed upgrading. Rather, you screamed, it needed changing A new direction, post-instituition. But it got lost in all and sundry: the dreaded irony? You die the one th [more]
Freyed
In a vision of the moment cast aside, and yet - with each intake of breath - There would seem to be a harmony, what's more - a dreaded repetition.   Why does the cycle present its terror Except in the knowledge of what was before. Therefore, no man feels stable, secure, Nor draws comfort from that which has become oh so predictable: And in the tortured will to survive Man surrenders life to existence.   © The Hairy Teacher, March, 2018 [more]
Freyed
In a vision of the moment cast aside, and yet - with each intake of breath - There would seem [more]
Pessimism
Another step, a neighbourhood And yet the worries call. The darkened corners of my doubts Put ser [more]
This Side
The scaffolding still stands across the way And under it other parties now do pass In the shadow o [more]
As the writer tries a composition The young child delves to exploration. The older hand deemed wis [more]
International Women’s Day
To women To love To sacrifice.   To lovers To motherhood.   To tears To jo [more]
Back to top