Hurt

You have used me. For the last time, you have used me.

Like a sunflower to the sun, I have looked to you, waiting for you to shine your friendship on me. Smile at me. Notice me. Care about me.

But you don't.
Don't care.
Don't smile.
Don't notice.

You do not know friendship. You are too luminous for your own good, with so many victims falling over each other to try love you, and be loved by you. But you only know how to use and discard.
Use and discard.
Use and discard.

I am nothing but waste to you.
When I have done enough favours for you, I am left disappointed, empty. A byproduct of your needs. I have never truly possessed your friendship.

I still care, so deeply. But don't care to be used anymore. I hope someone else will step up for you, and look out for you the way I've tried.
Be your friend, without the let-down.
Maybe they will be good enough for you, the way I never was.

Farewell, bright one. I have missed your light from the moment I laid eyes on it.

~A poem for someone too beautiful to understand how  utterly powerful their "lovable-ness" is.  

Steve Turner (who may or may not have been stoned) #3

Yes.
It is time for another moment of literary genius.
We are due for another Steve Turner gem.
Overdue, in fact.

SO. Here is a little something for a glorious Sunday like today...


Untitled - by Steve Turner

We say there is no God
   (quite easily)
when amongst the curving
steel and glass of our own
   proud creations.

They will not argue.

Once we were told of a
   heaven
but the last time we strained
   to look up
we could see only skyscrapers
shaking their heads
   and smiling no.

The pavement is reality.

We say there is no God
   (quite easily)
when walking back through
Man's concreted achievements
but on reaching the park
our attention is distracted
by anthems of birds coming
from the greenery.
We find ourselves shouting
a little louder now because
   of the rushing streams.
Our voices are rained upon by
   the falling of leaves.

We should not take our arguments
   for walks like this.
The park has absolutely no manners.


Peace out, Fellow Inhabitants of this Planet; may your ears be filled with the sounds of birds and falling leaves.

Steve Turner (who may or may not have been stoned) #2

I think we're long overdue for a Steve Turner poem, it's been many months since I shared with you the literary genius that is White With Two Sugars (Please).


It's hard for me to choose one piece to share, being the Steve Turner fan that I am, but in the spirit of February, Valentines, and all that is 'the month of love', I have chosen two slightly twisted poems on love. 


Enjoy :-)


Ambush - by Steve Turner


I'm never
falling
tumbling
slipping
or tripping
in love again
I had said,
closing my heart
until further notice.
Little did I consider
that even Love had fallen
foul of technological progress.
Unknown to me, Cupid had
long since traded in
his futile wooden bow
for a bright metal machine gun.


I'm back again.
Being very good friends.
Trying hard not to notice
the row of holes
currently appearing
across my chest.




And if your Valentines this year is a little less quirky...


Jilted - by Steve Turner


The first time
you are caught loving
in a just-friendly zone
they fine you
two eyes washed in tears
and a letter of appeal.
The next time it's three unpublished poems,
a few pounds in weight,
and an hour long discussion.
If it should happen
a third time
they have to withhold your feelings
so that your will learn
how to use them properly.




Happy Valentine's Fellow Inhabitants of this Planet - may Love, unconditional, plutonic and romantic, bestow it's wonderful glow on you today!

Steve Turner (who may or may not have been stoned)

When I was a teenager, my mom handed down a book of poetry that she had had in her bookshelf for many years. It’s a book called “Up to date” by Steve Turner, originally printed in 1976, my edition printed 1983.

 The collection of poems in this particular book provided me with hours and hours of amusement, as I read them and re-read them and re-re-read them. I always imagined that Mr. Turner was slightly stoned when writing his poems, as they are far from the ordered rhythm and rhyme of poetry that I had been exposed to beforehand. Sadly, as it turns out, he is a very respectable man, with several best-selling biographies, among other accomplishments – there goes half my amusement.

 I’ve been sick with flu for about 5 days now, and have been off work. Tomorrow I will be returning to the office, and to my real life as I know it. I thought it would be appropriate to send out a poem to all my fellow workers, about the substance that drives us all. 

 It motivates us to get out of bed each morning. It keeps our eyes open when we’ve had enough. It soothes and comforts frayed nerves, yet simultaneously kicks our minds into gear.

 Yes, this is a tribute to none other than that one legal addictive stimulant that many of us obsessively rely on: Coffee

White With Two Sugars (Please) – By Steve Turner

Coffee gives you

a legal shot of

energy when your

eyelids are feeling

down

Coffee kills time

when you’re washed

ashore on the streets

of London.

(Coffee can even

help rainstorms

disappear.)

Coffee is something

to dangle your lips

in when conversation

is scarce.

Coffee is a good

place to take a

new friend.

(Coffee is an excuse

to stay half an hour

longer)

Acquiantanceships end

on the doorstep but

friendships begin

with a coffee.

Coffee can be

appreciated by all

generations.

Coffee is a multilingual,

multi-racial, liquid esperanto.

Yes.

There’s something quite

religious about coffee.