Tag: Spoken Poetry
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I Am Not Me by Eli Oko
I am not I. I do not watch girls drift off into night skies With sirens and screeching tyres Debauched dirty men pointing to invisible friends And scattered screams of celebration I remember walking alone between tall buildings I recall the sensation of cold cement floors I hated the glare of city lights on shop windows…
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Rose Gold Petals by Eli Oko
You are like rose gold petals you fall on to grounds of milk you grow wings and fly into skies of candy floss you are the edibles we write about you are the fresh pastures we farm you keep the forests blooming you need nothing but water and sunlight you are the reason why we keep…
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Great Talk by Eli Oko
Please excuse these tears They do not reflect my inner most feelings As deep and desperate they may seem Inside I am jumping for joy Because my concern has always been your happieness Your happiness has always been my thought And my thought and has always been you Not in the way every person may wish…
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Learning to ride a bike by Eli Oko
Don’t let go of me I kept repeating the words in my mind Because all I could imagine was being left alone To experience without training To have support and then none at all I didn’t want to imagine noone beside me I kept my eyes focused on my destination just like you suggested But…
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Colourful Decades by Eli Oko
He thinks he knows me He thinks he truly understands how my mind works How reality is from my perspective But he will never know I cry from my heart. The veins behind my eyes burst before they even water And the colour of my eyes change I see red when I peer into my…
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Burning by Eli Oko
I left my candle burning overnight I lit it to bring some sight to the blind thoughts I had So that I could not only think clearer but feel clearer too I watched the wick transpire for a second slowly I saw the wax heat up and melt It was stronger than me at…
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OCD by Neil Hilborn
The first time I saw her… Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. When you have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. Even in bed, I’m thinking: Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the doors?…
Another Fly On The Wall 