Tag Archives: romanov poetry poem

Monday Poem- “Out of the boat 2”

Out of the boat 2

If the world was made of water
And our home the ocean deep,
Then would you say hello to me
If you past me down the street?
Would you still let me just float by
And not really go that deep?
If my life was up against the tide
Would we ever really meet?

But our lives are not designed that way
So why have we still not met?
You float on by with watery eyes
As though you’re swimming past a net.
You look scared, you’re hooked and snared,
I want to help, I’m not a threat.
I’ll cut your line and you’ll cut mine
If we can only just connect.

We’re not schools of fools, we’re people!
So don’t clam up, lets end
Being merely strangers
And let’s hook up and be friends.

Monday Poem- “Origin or sin”

Origin or sin

“Let there be something”
Said no one to nothing
But no sound was found-
There were no words to be heard,
Or ears to hear
Or speaking lips
Or a medium which
Sound could exist.
No thing.
Not a thing,
But then it exploded.
A likely story
That although boring
Helps us sleep at night.

Matter splattered,
Protons, atoms,
Suddenly happened
And arranged themselves in order.
Primal chaos reigned
And then became
More complex
But I confess
That it’s insane for me
To just believe
A theory as fact-
The big bang of the gaps
Doesn’t tell me crap.

Monday poem: “Imitators”


My thoughts and poems are plagiarized
But don’t scoff for yours are too
The only difference is I try to copy Christ
My question is how about you?

Do you copy those you meet and hang around?
Is it “fitting in or bust”?
Do you imitate the stockbrokers?
Is it money that you lust?
Do you strive and strain for what can be gained
Or do you just like to complain?
We all bend our knees to something else
What is it you let reign?

Do you wish for greater intellect,
A better body or skill-set?
Do you feel your life would be complete
If these little needs were met?
Surely you must realize
It’s not the glory, gold or sex
That makes a life worth dying for,
No it’s not what you can get.

These things are functional idols
That we worship and pursue.
We all bow to someone,
I’m Christ’s fool, whose are you?

Monday Poem: “The Trust Nuts”

The Trust Nuts

He came up trumps in the end-
The sleepless nights and sudden frights
Became scaled heights and hailed delights
With diminishing returns
And exoneration of the stupid kind.

They hated his energy
But loved it when he used it
(Abused it for the popular cause)
Despite his flaws he came up trumps
And found his place.

There is a lot to lie to rest now-
Thoughts of melodic, hypnotic, cryptic logic…
Dreams of obscene, forbidden hidden wealth…
Talks of strangely changing dangers
In a range of thrilling foods
Killing dudes in silly moods…’
But what remains from scaled heights
Is he and you
And your different points of view
And then a third one which is true.

Monday Poem: “Convict love token”

Convict love token

Taken by force
From where I loved,
I sang to you for the last time-
“God save the man…”,
they forced me out of view.

Watching the sun,
through smoggy screens,
I thought of you on the last night,
“God save the man…”,
I forced myself to pray.

Resting my eyes.
The final night
of my wretched life.
“God save the man…”
you force me to have hope.

Monday Poem- “City Whisper’s”

City Whispers

Just a big small town
The city smiles
Going about her evolution
All the while
Knowing the individuals
Are her bones
The city moans
Knowing that her end is nigh

Just a big small town
The city cries
Knowing that her children
Are about to die
Going about their business
Without a care
The city stares
Knowing that her end is near

Restaurants, theatres
Doing well
So is hell
The end is on its way

Just a big small town
The city weeps
Watching the disaster
In her streets
Laughing at the warnings
People dance
Without a chance
Knowing that the end is nigh

Just a big small town
The city’s quiet
Mocking consequences
The people riot
Watching their decision
The city sighs
And then she dies
Knowing that the end is here
Knowing it has come

Monday Poem – “Modern Romanov”

Modern Romanov

He believed in his own divine right.
That he was blest
Above the rest .
He came,
He saw,
He passively manipulated,
And when the time was right
He rose by default.
The hiring was not inspiring
But it was legal
(if only by the book).
He wouldn’t vote for a power grab,
Though he would manipulate.
Our tiny little pal.
Our zero hero.
There where he lies
Standing in the blood
Of those he loved,
Of those he sold,
Of those he now controlled.