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Incarcerated

21 Dec

Incarcerated

Incarcerated

Counting the bars, counting down time,
Memories replayed, the screams still fresh,
Eyes still see, the gushing red blood,
Spurting through the open wound,
Shanked by me, he whimpers like a fool,
Serves him right for dissing my cred,
Lying there begging for his life,
I could taste the sweetness of victory,
Like winning an ol’ western duel,
I watch as he slowly fades away,
Eyes shut, he’s seen his last day,
Blade still dripping, I get collared,
Dragged away by the men in blue,
Standing in court, box guarded,
Hear his family weep, blaming me,
For stealing away their beloved boy,
In the prime of his youth,
The jury pass a sympathetic verdict,
Incarcerated for life, no chance of bail,
A moment of uncontrolled madness,
Will I ever see the brightness of day,
A killer, a murderer, an animal,
A felony never to be forgiven,
No hope of redemption,
No audacity of hope,
Noone to blame but myself,
As I rot away eternally,
Two wasted lives, potential for more,
Society stil fails to fathom us youth.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Busking love

14 Dec

Priyanka busking away

Priyanka busking away :)

Strumming her guitar,
Tapping her feet,
Soulful voice from her chapstick lips,
For a moment in time,
Our eyes would meet,
She skips a beat,
Yet plays on non-chalantly,
A fiver I ruffle out,
Scribble my digits,
Throw it in her case,
Then follow the rat race,
As the tube door shuts,
She picks up the scruffy note,
An arc in her face,
A glint in her eye,
She cheerfully busks away,
Knowing we shall meet,
Another time another day.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Shackled

9 Dec

Shackled

Shackled

Release me from these invisible shackles,
That mercilessly bound me,
From fulfilling my self- prophacised destiny,
The destiny that I so desperately yearn for,
Written by me, written for me,
Where my potential is limitless,
Where I live life by my rules,
I have paid my dues,
Through blood and sweat,
I have changed my ways,
No going back, no regret,
Yet these arcane forces,
Clutch their claws,
Firmly into my soul,
Through self-doubt and denial,
Attempt to flatten my ambition,
Re-write my destiny,
Wipe me out from history,
Rebel I shall with all my heart,
Prevail against my weaknesses,
And break through these invisible shackles.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

One Final Hit

23 Aug

Snorting the white stuff

Snorting the white stuff

I am cured, can’t you see,
Look at my eyes they are snowy white,
No more bloodshot red, tired or blind,
Let me out, rehab has done it’s deed,

Believe me, I am truly clean,
Cos I have seen and I have felt,
The depths of hell and the pain of death,
The evils I have done, the evil within me,

The fibs, the lies and the twisted truths,
Just to get a fix and hide myself from reality,
But you will never be able to comprehend,
Why I have done and I did what I did,

The feeling of joy and ecstasy,
Freedom from my deadpan life,
The initial excitement of toying,
With something ever so liberating,

Till I was hooked with greediness uncontrolled,
Insomnia and paranoia, the lesser side effects,
Guilt broke me from inside,
Rage tore my life apart from outside,

The sadness I imparted on ones who loved me dearly,
Aging unnaturally, 25 going on 40,
Wrinkles appeared, sex appeal disappeared,
The younger me would sorely be dissapointed,
In how I let my life go down the gutter,

Ambitions left unfulfilled, dreams shattered,
Left here to piece my life back together,
But weaning myself of the crack has left me bipolar,
Days where am I filled with happiness, balanced,
With days feeling madly suicidal,

Would it be so wrong for me have just one last hit,
I promise, I will snort it quick,
And not let it take over my life like it did,
Believe me, I am truly clean,
I just need one last hit.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

The secret of Anna May

22 Jun

Anna MayRed lipstick, porcelain cheeks,
Dangerous curves, hair so sleek,
Spilling out of her slinky blue dress,
Cleavage proudly exhibited to all,
She was in her late teens,
Sipping wine out the bottle,
All the fly guys swooning over her,
Like bees to the honey,
I stare blankly across the bar at her,
She notices and winks back at me,
Bites me as to why she would,
Be interested in a mug like me,
She walks over, every step harmonious,
Eyes gleaming, like glazed diamonds,
“Hye, My name is Anna May,
I think you are cute” she says,
My soul lights up into a blazing fire,
As she fills my heart with raw animalistic desire,
She takes hold of my hand and leads me out,
Side alley by the bar, she plants a kiss,
All the world seems a blur,
I lift her up, her legs twine around my hips,
I feel a hard bulge down below.
A bulge other than mine,
I drop her down shocked and in disbelief,
“My name is Andrew May,
I am not yet fully Anna” she/he says,
I crash land back into reality,
When things are too good to be true,
Make sure you feel down below.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Broken window

12 Jun

Broken window

Broken window

Pearl drops trickle down my cheeks,
Slowly fathoming uncle Troy will forever sleep,
Heaven needed someone larger than life,
To oil the pearly gates and tease the pretty angels,
Or so I say to comfort myself,
To fill the void the old man left,
Two decades ago still fresh in mind,
A tadpole was I, when I moved next door,
Practising a spin ball I broke a window,
Out walked a bespeckled old man,
Bemused yet with a forgiving smile,
He threw the perfect spin back at me,
Reminiscent of his county cricket days,
The old codger made me solemnly swear,
To cough up for the repairs from my first pay check,
Over the years he taught me to ride a bike,
To fish, to read the stars, to ask a girl out on a date,
For a foster child like me,
He was the father I never had,
Standing over his coffin as he lies in peace,
I lift his pillow and place a hundred quid,
Hope there are broken windows in heaven,
Uncle Troy the promise remains sealed.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

World so blue….

4 Jun

A broken heart

A broken heart

You came in to my life walking down those stairs,
With a swagger like noone cares,
A face that was awe inspring.
Felt my skin perspiring,
Words seemed to be lost,
Thoughts of mine paused,
Since I met you,
I found the world so new,
Nerves rattled as I asked you out,
You were “The One” without a doubt,
The word “Yes” still echoes in my ears,
Casting a shadow over my unfounded fears,
Eyes closed we kissed,
Kodak moment Missed,
Every second with you ever so magical,
Never ever thought to be logical,
I was blinded by your beauty to see,
You were cruelly playing me,
All your words were meaningless,
All those moments shared pointless,
As my eyes opened to your game,
My heart would never ever be the same,
Dark clouds everywhere I saw,
I never knew I could feel so low,
Evil thoughts clouded my mind,
Rational explanations I could not find,
I listened to my inner voice,
Leaving you seemed the only choice,
But since I left you,
I found the world so blue,
Nothing feels right when I am not with you,
Why do I still long for you,
Why do I love you,
While I still despise you.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Poems on the Underground – Bakerloo

26 May

Baker Street on the Bakerloo

Baker Street on the Bakerloo

Clutching a metro ever so dapper,
Stealing a glance from every passing lass,
Riding the brown line, on a groundhog day,
Home of football to Newington causeway,
Interesting stops en route to keep me awake,
Funny people on board to liven up the ride,
Wembley, the multicultural hub, my journey begins,
Stonebridge football pitches to the reggae capital Harlesden,
Willesden with its quaint Irish charm and the scent of jerk chicken,
To where the grim reaper welcomes all at the Kensal Green Cemetery,
Media mummies and daddies getting on at Queens Park,
A faux pas to their habitual four wheel drive,
Going deeper underground to Maida Vale,
Criss crossing canals via Little Venice,
Warwick Avenue where new lovers meet,
To Paddington the place not the bear,
Edgware road, shisha holes, Middle Eastern smoke,
St.Mary’s on the Tybourne, the holy Marylebone,
Rubbing shoulders with waxy celebs at Baker Street,
The tube pulls majestically in to the Royal Regent’s park,
A stop away from shopper’s paradise Oxford circus,
Dramatic actors get down at the theatrical Piccadilly Circus,
Charing Cross, where all roads conjoin,
Bonaparte’s last battle christening Waterloo,
Touching the bank of the Thames at Embankment,
Dabbing in a bit of history at Lambeth North,
As the tube pulls in at Elephant and Castle,
My journey through world and time ends,
Until another amazing ride on the Bakerloo.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Mr. Social Network

15 May

Mr. E- Daddy Cool

Mr. E- Daddy Cool

Poke, poke, poke, tweet, tweet, tweet,
No time to eat, drink or sleep,
Being popular is such a chore,
Fake status updates not to look a bore,
Dark mysterious laidback avatar,
Showing off his air brushed chiselled jaw,
A heartthrob in the virtual realm,
Who needs personality when he has Photoshop,
More beautiful ladies in his friend list,
Than on the Miss World pageant,
Sexy models winking at him, sending suggestive messages,
The same ones who would ignore his existence in real life,
A different e-wife for each hour of the day,
Australia to China, every colour every creed,
Guys wishing they could be him,
Popularity through association, they add him,
Only to be declined, for not matching his criteria,
Lady lumps required with a seductive avatar pose,
Every morning he logs out into reality,
Normal and ordinary like you and me,
Speckled sand, in life’s worldly beach,
Ever night he logs backs on, Mr. E-Daddy Cool.

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

Viva La Revolution – Che Guevara

27 Apr

Che Guevara

Che Guevara

A man and his bike,
Riding free, across rolling mountains and plains,
Glancing in the rear view mirror,
Staring the devil straight in the eye,
Witnessing exploited mine workers,
Persecuted communists, ostracized lepers
Tattered descendants of a once-great Incan civilization
A vagabond traveller seeing things at surface level,
Attempting to delve beneath the sheen,
Nose attentively inhaling the misery,
Ears focussing on the pleas of the helpless,
In a capitalistic, imperialistic world,
Viva la revolution,
A revolution of change, of ideals and theology,
Ending the endemic poverty,
Unshackling the slaves of neo-colonialism,
Washing away his upper middle class wealth,
Fighting shoulder to shoulder with his ordinary brothers,
Dying fighting a deserving cause,
A cause to make a difference,
A poet at heart, a revolutionist by fate,
Viva Ernesto “Che” Guevara

Copyright © 2009 by Niro N

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