Screen

main straight in bus
top deck window,
oxygen steams up
interior, heavy rain out,
cutting through an aquaplane-

window is now bright white
from light outside
in the distance

looking to the left
at a layer of forestry,
their sunlight induced
embroidery,
outlines searing
into my eyelids

Translucent tunnel
vision. Dual carriageway stretch.
lights. enclosure.
squinting in the dark,
rain stops.
I make a letterbox engraving
on the condensation
while the other man
in front wipes in a circle

We see clearly,
see the bridge

Gust

The emptiest cup,
always the loudest.
It ripples
like the rustic spin
of a tornado
carrying relics
of embarrassment,
mediocratic gusts.

Words written by yours truly,
with
empty self assured rhetoric
that faded into
the pages
of years passed with
teenage angst.

Crumple the cup
and its shallow arrogance
to forge substance
and
rue the day
when the ink submerges
and brushes against the surface,
a tender, shrouding blue mist.

Molten ash dust
like fire curving metal
to carve a trajectory
to send that tornado
off course into oblivion,
splitting into particles
unifying an opaque
nothingness.

For you do not deserve this
this sorry entry into the canon,
a sleepless stupor into
the gallery of vain epiphanies.

Collect those relics, dust them up, and try again.

Door

Speak

in metaphor
white backdrop
with brown door
made of the most
intricate mahogany

search deep to
voice the voices
into this page, but
rarely do they stitch
into assembly

Gone are those days of
enlightenment
where old bearded men lived in the mind
satanically whispering inspiration

For now, endure the long climb
to the canon. Embark
from humble beginnings, make
that stride past the door,
with its intricate mahogany
in the bright white backdrop

and begin.

Set of new poems from class coming soon

Sorry about the delay, if anyone from the far corner of the world is still reading this blog. So that's all three of you then...

I handed in my dissertation on time this week, alhamdulillah. While I could have spent more time with it, stress-related factors led me to blitzing out the write-up within 3-4 weeks with the data collection completed in February. I'm very pleased with it as a final piece of work.

I still have a little left to do before finishing my degree at Kingston, but now I have to worry about next year. Fun stuff!

In the meantime, I'll show just one of the ten (mediocre if I have to admit) poems I wrote for the poetry class we have at university.