This Young

Tea time poetry
A photo put the flow in me
Jamal's at nostalgia again
Not again
I'm afraid it is
Strange it is
That I would feel old
This young
And let lamented remembrance
Roll off my tongue
This young
The past screams love
And today we're scared to whisper
The world could end
And we wouldn't know each other
And we'd be sat with wilted flowers
Hour after hour
As a coward
As we cower in our sour tear puddles
As a stray droplet creeps into our lips
As if we didn't know already
What we could have spoken
Now even if we did
These rains would make it bitter
Almost dead,
And pollute our poetry
With words we never said

Walk

Sometimes

I  prefer to walk

And just smell the same air

See a crisp picture

Without pasty bus window glass

To separate the real

From me

This paranoid paki boy

Might have to turn around
Then and now

As silhouettes lurk

In and out of turn

Mostly just mine

But its better

When I walk

Breathing the air

Times of foul and fair

Reality clear
Perfect soundtrack in my ear

When the rhythm fits the scene

When I walk

And the chaos is serene

City lights

Dark, black railings

Old street lamp ridden

Mist hidden

Intermittent, paces

Now the sounds of faces

Laughing

Clicking of the heel

Of loafer

Purpose walker
Smooth talker


Neon fade
And reappear
Upon the wired canvas
City campus
Bustle hustle
Teach preach
Make your muscle
Touches of a thousand people
Rainbow skin
Tall and feeble

As a sun beam meets
The glass door
See yourself
Catch a glimpse
Did you forget that you exist
When you persist
To keep pacing
On the pavement
Catching strangers
As the day went
Time favours
Those who take it

Take a walk.
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