There is a tug of war.
I am being pulled
In two ways.
My dreams have taken hold
Of my semi-opened wings
And pull furiously
In the direction of the sky.
My friendships penetrate my roots
Holding too tight,
Unwilling to let go,
Keeping me with them
For as long as they want me.
I want to cut ties and fly,
It is no question which way
I thirst for.
It is a question, though,
If I have the courage
To break free.




The bird’s point of view
With spirit as my friend,
I see my little city,
My anchor as I journey
To places far away.
It is night,
And it is a daunting thought.
Each little light
That studs the darkness
Like stars on Earth,
Is each a little life,
A beautiful mess
Of little joys, hopes,
Regrets, sorrows,
Little dreams,
Like stars on Earth.


The First Man

He looked down at the girl
Whose eyes were searching
For the other man in her life.
She had changed over the years,
He realised,
From the little one,
Whose temper tantrums
And cries of “Lift me, Appa!”
Echoed in the streets,
To the mature woman standing before him,
Who didn’t need to be picked up,
And lead him instead,
As they crossed the same street.
One thing remained the same, though.
Her grip on his hand,
And on her innocence, on love,
Remained as strong as it was
When she first grasped his finger.



Warning: Mention of explicit drug abuse. The poet discourages any and all types of recreational drugs and their abuse.

The pin pointed hypodermic
Slips into the crease of her elbow,
And the spot stings sharp
Like a dot of pain
In an ocean of restless tension.
The chemical is forced into
The confines of her veins,
Breathing fire into every capillary.
The after-sting
Of the hasty withdrawal
Is overshadowed
By the killing ecstasy
That now resides in her blood,
Slowly killing her each cell.



One of the most beautiful sights
Is to see someone taking steps,
Be they small, tottering, or insignificant,
Towards their own dreams.
The trepidation and anxiety
That dances on their brow
Cannot overshadow
The small curve of excitement on their lips.
In combination with the knowledge
Of the immense courage
They are bound to possess,
This makes one of
The most beautiful sights
You can witness.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Equidistant Infinity

That infinite hairwidth distance
Between your grasping fingertips
And your dreams of living,
Is the frustration defined.
It is precisely that shade of grey
Equidistant from black and white.
It is the length of that infinity
Between each breath.
Short though it may be,
It is still Infinity
That lies behind the mask.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)