Jeremy Mifsud's Blog, page 25

Extra Terrestrial Bitch

E.T.B, an extra terristrial bitch,

and even so in making me use

a word I generally avoid.

One can say that term is deragotory,

controversial at least,

but it would serve injustice to the English language

if another word was used to describe her.

A bully with power in her hands,

she expects the crowd to read her mind

to act in the way she planned

during her tea-time with imaginary friends.

Unlikeable to say the least,

a magnetic repulsion that

blocks any possibility of others liking her.

Her head bigger than the Queen of Hearts’,

walking into the room

expecting everyone to fall on their knees,

beg for mercy and apologise

for things they did not do.

She sees us as minions,

to walk all over and control,

but when we did not

her delusion attacked her ego.

I am sorry for you, ETB,

so I can try to share my advice.

Power means nothing if you want respect,

you can make people obey,

but with an attitude like that

respect will never be earned,

because respect is like life,

and life is give and take.

 

Crying Foul

Within all her mystifying might

she gave life to humans,

nurtured them as if

they were sacred creatures

walking on her land.

Ungrateful men,

never cared for their mother

even after all the pain she endured

just to see them breath

the air that was once pure.

Their boots trespass on her lying corpse,

their fake tears drown

in the thick pool of blood.

Hands in the cleanest waters

scrubbing hard

get rid of evidence,

these men are incapable of feeling guilt.

In front of the universe they cry,

convincing us all

the nature of death

was an unfortunate suicide.

Men that know no shame,

run free

amongst us,

they destroy

what their heart desires,

only to blame it on their mother.

We must stand up

let the world know,

mother’s heart is pure

and we can make it beat again.

To check about my book, click on: Poetry Book: The A to Z of You and Me

Centre Stage

As I stand on the stage

lights flash

and I am blinded

by the brightest spotlight that follows me.

My ears pick up the sounds

of people cheering me on,

enthusiastic clapping,

I am flattered.

The performance continues forever

and I effortlessly go on and on,

without any misstep.

I block out all of my senses and thoughts

except for one:

I am unable to stop thinking of you,

certain that you are thinking of me as well

even though you might be feeling cold and alone.

It’s a shame that life had different plans for us two,

that destiny was too cruel and locked you oustide.

Don’t worry darling,

I will come looking for you

the moment that I bow myself out of the stage.

 

To check about my book, click on: Poetry Book: The A to Z of You and Me

 

Overwhelmed

Bubble burst

and all the air particles inside

get lost with a million others.

I look around and I am dazed,

I see faces

I see people,

no bubbles around their head.

Overwhelmed with every slight motion,

especially that of their lips

as they stare into my eyes

awaiting

a response of any sort.

Sweat runs through my body,

my tongue gets tied behind frozen lips.

My eyes observe the slow motion of each person

turning around slowly to face me,

as if they were an army

waiting for the commander’s order.

I acted as if I was anybody else,

stuttered some words

that I would imagine would be in appropriate

in that context,

and I kept trying to forget that whole day

from the moment it ended.

 

Read more details about my book by clicking on: The A to Z of You and Me

Demons

Rapid breathing,

the keys tight in the palms

of my sweaty hands.

It’s finally over,

my heart is locked away

in a metal safe.

As I bury the safe in unknown soils

I sigh in relief:

My heart will not break anymore.

With my mind at rest

I head back home

only to stop half way,

holding my chest tight

as I feel my heart beating viciously.

Then I knew,

The Demons have always been in my head.

 

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Burning Out

Walking in the dessert

feet sunk in the sand,

skin drenched in sunburnt sweat.

Walking towards nothing,

with the guidance of hope

praying

that I won’t sink along

these burning sands.

No clouds,

No lakes,

No plants.

It is just me and my dreams,

slowly burnt by the scorching sun.

 

Click on The A to Z of You and Me to find out more about my poetry book

Drift

In front of me,

I see you,

my eyes glow with indefinite joy.

I wave,

I speak,

I scream.

Your unbothered, unmoved,

unable to hear what I say.

I fall to my knees,

trying to hold my tears back.

Are you just a dream?

Have I become a ghost so soon?

My attempts are futile,

my touch disintegrates into nothingness.

We are not here anymore…

I see you,

drifting into a separate world.

Three

One.

I am baffled.

Did we make it? How?

Thoughts running through my head.

Doubts. Ecstasy.

I guess time will tell.

Two.

Oh… wow.

We are still counting.

I guess we got something good going on,

but two is already too big of a number.

Can we outlast the count?

Three.

Memories. Distant in time, close to heart.

I miss you, a little bit too much.

Painful, and not just thrice.

I know we can make it till four.

Longing for anything,

patiently hurting.

Run!

Around a bubbling cauldron

each of us stands

putting in any ingredient,

the first that comes up in our heads.

There is none but one simple rule,

apologies should not be said,

whatever you throw

can never be taken back.

There is no redemption,

with one tiny mistake

you can rot all the good

inside the cauldron.

History no longer matters

and I am advising you to run away

before my madness casts a hex

on your worthless soul.

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To check out my poetry book go to The A to Z of You and Me

Echoes

I open my eyes to find myself deep inside a cave,

pitch black vision and echoing footsteps.

In front of me I can hear

liquid dropping into a puddle or sea,

so I stand still

thinking of ways to not drown myself.

From some path ahead,

a loud screech strikes,

Startled I step back…

SPLASH!

Sinking in a thick liquid,

a liquid that was whispering

all the things I had written

in each of my exams.

The ink found its way back

to the author who shaped it,

ruthlessly seeking for the meaning

behind every letter and word,

filling my mind with unshakeable worries.

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I have a collection on Poetry Book: The A to Z of You and Me