The Nation of the Glorious Turnip

I was able to write a few poems yesterday! Thank you Night, You're the best well of silly creativity ever. Or a muse if will.

There is No Doubt in A Perfect World

It can be better
It should be better
I want too much
I don't want enough
It'll never be enough
For me, I cannot accept
This fallacy, that mistake
that flaw, this weakness
in me, I have to aspire
I am not good enough
I need to be better
I can't put down my pen
if I do, I'll never write again
Well, never is a long time
But you know what?
if you give up
that's the end of it
There is nothing else.
So I write.

Cooking Class

Boiling kettle whistle for tea
while your brother is frying a steak for me
Your sister is boiling the rice dry
Oh, look at her cry
Tears flowing down her body
I am sorry my cooking is so shoddy
Watered tea, black steak and no rice
That's when you pay the price
next time the TV goes off
Or again the alarm will cough
Fire! Fire! Well, at least there is smoke
Wake up you stupid Bloke!

I am a Stranger Still

I want to show you how
I can't close my eyes
Lost in a dream world
Just a fly in the sand
Only mosquitoes in my room
Sucking my blood, poisoning.

I want to show you how
I'm trapped in the ocean
I sink and find
That the shark is not me
I am the eagle
I want to fly home.

I want to ask you now,
Is it a dream if I am awake?
There is no escape
I fly for miles on end
My wings are weary
and there is no home for me.

I want to ask you now
Why is the ocean beckoning me?
I sink deeper into the dream
A vision of someone there
Is it me in the mirror
Or is it really you?