Perhaps we’re all tired of faces pressed against
The glass, fingers clinging to the edges
Standing atop roofs, ready to fall flat
One last time, one last push, one final stand
With backs against walls and many metaphors
More living for the sake of imagery and allusion
Alluding again adds to alliteration
For one mind too tired and tied up in over-thinking

Pushed far too far and with too little to show
But these battle scars which cut skin deep
Red blinking eyes look north and east for an escape
Anywhere but here, within or without a clue
Clearly caring for form beats flavour

Rhythm and meter will meet her as she falls short
Measuring the distance between iambs and I am
Too old for this ship, sailing through rocks and ravines
Glacial pace and taking on water far faster than I ever knew
Was possible. When apathy breeds antipathy and damn you
For not writing something universal

Fan fiction for flunking fantasy freaks
Would sell better than those ornate scribblings
Those little words, those little books you write
Ain’t that cute, hey did you read that new vampire book
Wow, weren’t that deep and isn’t that guy so cute
So perhaps I don’t want to be part of that discussion

And writing on the fringes is something more valuable in
The end, and perhaps it’s past time you realised
That it will be long after your end that you are appreciated
Or even noticed by many who saw the advert in their weekly
Paper but paid no more heed than they do for anything
That exists outside their dimly lit day

Born with no exotic name nor exciting accent
I’ll never be the darling of those who
Dangle dactyls from their necks or place
Trochees on trophy shelves, heaving and held up
By maple in their mansions
They have traveled the world, darling
And aren’t these people so rich in culture, darling
Now take a photo of that one, darling
Look, he’s crying, dancing his traditional dance, darling
Let’s hear what he has to say, darling

Perhaps being all that you can be and nothing
You are not, will win races in the long run
As you pad along this dusty marathon track
Barely able to even see the numbers on their backs
Mouth dry, muscles tired, bones heavy
Better hope you’ve got some more left in the tank
Better hope you saved some for the swim back

14 thoughts on “Perhaps

  1. There’s a nice edge to this that I like. And yes, quality and truth to oneself wins hands down any day. Hope to hear more where this came from. Thanks for the inspiration 🙂

    1. Thank you, it’s all about trying to persevere with poetry. I’ve not had a great response to my self publishing (not a negative one but shopkeepers have even returned my books to me despite there being no risk to stock them).

  2. Hey, Daniel. 1. Being from England, you do of course have an exotic accent. Why don’t you people realize that. We awestruck New World liliputs bow and scrape on hearing its thousand reginal manifestations. It’s all a relativistic Einsteinian spin cycle, what? 2. what is the ‘darling’ stanza about? It rings more authentically than the rest, possibly because (I sense) you are unshackling your inchoate anger and it gets, quite marvelously, away from you. I’m talking about the ‘darling’ stanza. Is it a shot at the poetry-collecting Philistines? Let me know. Also, are you a writer by trade, a hobbyist, an aspirant. An aspirin? I see you are a Magic aficionado, too. There is a large but waning community here in Santa Barbara, too, and a shop called Metro Entertainment that hosts a gathering called Friday Night Magic, that is is usually fairly well-attended and makes for a cozy scene. Okay, sport. Explicate for me that meddlesome stanza. It grabbed me. I’ll delve. You needn’t look at my site. I’m guessing you stopped in to swap ‘follows’, which I sort of don’t do as a matter of habit because it leads to a blogosphere of sites each with 6000 hollowfollows that mean nothing and must one day collapse of its own tissuey accord. I will bookmark your blog, though. Keep writing. Very cool you have taken it upon yourself to self publish. Shows you are in the game for love of art. Tell me about yourself and Suffolk. Every square meter of England hollers romance to us.

    1. Hi Jef.
      1. I suppose the problem is being English in England. Much like if a Californian wandered about around here we would react quite differently to you than we would our own boring selves. We also have a bit of a low self esteem as a people in my opinion, we are far more self effacing and less keen to sing our own strengths.
      2. The darling stanza is a reference to all of the ageing, upper middle class intellectuals who frequent poetry events and seemingly represent the average consumer. “Oh darling, you simply must see the Kenyan chap at 5:40. He bleeds authenticity”. It’s not that i doubt that this example poet bleeds authenticity, its the preconception (in my mind) that people don’t believe that a white, Anglo-Saxon, lower middle class, university educated person could possibly contribute to culture or have anything worth saying. I mean, i am very English, there aren’t even Irish or Welsh in my dad’s side going back 8 generations and my mum’s village discovered fire in 1964. I just feel that being born a “wasp” hasn’t set me up well for creative endeavours.
      3. I have a degree in English from Loughborough, which i have not used at all. I work in an office and run through a maths based computer program all day. I have a blog so that i can express myself. I play Magic casually and run a club with about 12 attendees. I play competitively but don’t take it too seriously, i don’t have the time or money to be obsessed.
      4. I find the following comment a little harsh. Yes, i follow other poets, satirists and creative writers. I read other poems and like to encourage discussion with other writers. I stumble across fascinating blogs, such as yours with your full paragraph tangental poems. I tried to write free form before but i ended up sounding like Dewey Cox in his Bob Dylan phase.

  3. ..forgive my typos. I’m just home from work and wearing a stiff leather jacket and am generally too lazy to proofread comments before I send, to my discredit. To paraphrase John Merrick, though; I am not a moron. Thanks for your patience…

    1. I know exactly what you mean, there is a Border Terrier clambering over me as i write this. I would perhaps prefer a leather jacket…or even a Border Terrier jacket (take a hint dog).

  4. Hello Sir,

    Loved this poem! Hooked me from beginning to end. I definitely felt a strong authentic voice here! 😊 I don’t think that being English without even Irish or Welsh in you makes you boring at all! What makes a poet interesting is not their nationality but what they write about and how passionately they write about it. As an Asian who grew up in the UK, I certainly find this passionate poem of yours very attention-grabbing and intriguing. Why? Because here you are giving me a perspective on life which I have not considered or experienced before. And you have the potential to do that when you relate ANYTHING about your life, because your readers are not you. Growing up in a completely English background means that you will have experienced things that I, and indeed other readers, haven’t experienced. That’s interesting! We want to know about that. This poem suggests you are articulate and talented. Keep going mate. Good luck! 😊

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