Words I Like To Throw Around These Days

 

Tired
Of being tired
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Time
That I waste
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Pressure
That I feel
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Inspiration
The life
That is sucked out of me
Because I am
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Excuses
That I make
Because I am
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Resilience
Because I endure
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

Hope
That one day I will get out of
Sitting long hours in
My own cage staring at a blank screen
Doing nothing for hours on end
Waiting for the siren so I can go home

© Sena Frost ’17

Advertisements

Years

365 and a quarter days spent racing round a gigantic fireball

Revolutions made regularly

Spinning in perpetuity

I would say it runs in circles

Nay

Elliptical tracks are more our style

A top tilting its way round a familiar course

The yardstick called a year

In years

I am born

You grow

We live

They die

Sometimes we leap

A whole day awarded for you

We waste it

Nonetheless this course holds steady

A little blip in the Milky Way

Twinkling merrily in some alien sky

Years

Bring us together

Tear us apart

That even family becomes strangers

As bonds are loosened by the constant spinning

Yesterday’s trusting child becomes a suspecting adult

Years

Tilt me out of the circumference of your life

That a touch made today is a footprint at the beach;

Washed away

Years we’d rather forget

Filled with places we would rather not be and people we no longer are

Death and darkness in them

Years we remember

Filled with life

Sun and growth and all things nice

Where I remain inceptive

Immortal years stop not once for you

Years take the life

You painstakingly crafted something for yourself

A sudden leap sends you out of the cradle

And pop goes the weasel

We convolute

Wax and wane

Bloom then wither

As our own sense of time culls us

All in

365 and a quarter days spent racing round a gigantic fireball

Revolutions made regularly

Spinning in perpetuity

I would say it runs in circles

Nay

Elliptical tracks are more our style

An eternal present

For what exactly?

Who knows,

Go with the flow

Image courtesy google images

© Sena Frost ’17

Undefined

Today marks my 26th year on this earth. The winds blow and buffet me but I refuse to be defined by them. This is to the fullest life I have lived yet. Thank you for being with me every step of the way.

Bottom feeder.

Pariah.

Outcast.

Always the labels you try to put on me

Labels that never stick

I am

Flame dancing in the wind

Daring the rain to put me out

I

Refuse to be put in boxes and stashed away

I demand to be heard

Despite your attempts to mute me

I am blessed with faculties of wit

But I remain idiosyncratically anecdotal

I am the hoarfrost during a Russian winter

Kissing your windows and biting your limbs

Invisible

Intangible

Yet uprooting every warm blooded attempt to staple me down

I transcend the limits placed on me

Because

I am

Jack of trades

Polyhistor

Unmoved by circumstance

Grounded in concrete resolve and unyielding faith

Try as you can

But you can never make me inferior

I may be

A bottom feeder.

Pariah.

Outcast.

According to you that is

Always the labels you try to put me

But they will keep peeling off

I remain unaffected to your studies

Religiously aloof.

Until you stop burning the bridges to understand and cohabit

You will remain stymied by the many faced god in your attempts to corral me

And forever I remain

Undefined

© Sena Frost ’17

Libra

I am

The cardinal of the air

Ruler of the Seventh House

Lover of the finer things

Lord of the element of freedom

I am

The lustful draught of breath sucked from a lover’s lungs

The filled spaces of an empty room

I am the sigil of balance

Scales tipping every now and then

Exotically sensual

Anecdotally factual

A sensorium of cleansing

I am

The blackest white

The clearest night

A knight not

Just a savvy parlay-man

I am

Nought but man

And yet in me

God gives.

Image courtesy google images

© Sena Frost ’17

G.O.A.Ts

I have gained fresh inspiration from two of the greatest hip-hop artists to ever live. They were but men but that’s all we are. Tupac and B.I.G. this one’s for you

Two Crown Jewels

At aphelion and perihelion

Revolutionaries in their own right

Too flawed to be martyrs

Good men trying to be bad

But a whole generation saw shackles loosed by words they spoke

Prophets speaking of a Canaan they’d never set foot in

They were

Cats with their own scratching posts

Spitting bars so juicy

What they did

They did for love

The big Poppa and Makaveli

Moguls of the East and West Coasts

Tossing the rhymes smooth like the sin of window panes

Hip-hop had a voice

They spoke about crack

And babies having babies

The stuff that hit the black and white

Men drowning in their blood

Boys turning their back on their brood

They said

Hard truths

Made immortal

Sadly a reality still today

And even though egos drowned the sound of peace

They left the world aided by Chiron

Riddled with holes they bled

But gods don’t die

Showstoppers

Thug life lovers

Poets on the beat

Our own royalty

They were prime

Indivisible by anyone but themselves and God

I picture them rolling

Rabbit eared bandannas and top hatted shades

They say he whom the gods love die young

But they were above anything true to themselves in song.

Timeless legends

We will never see them grow old

They catch the sun

Shining beautiful

Because

They were

Two Crown Jewels

At aphelion and perihelion

© Sena Frost ’17

Images courtesy google images

Careful, Son

This is inspired by some early morning banter by friends. I tried to keep it real. Fugly Mofos, thanks!

Careful son
Don’t come at me like you mad at yo daddy
I am yo pappy
Come here son
Smoke some poppy
Lemme tell you something son
The world holds no favours
Come see conquer
Get yo own chocolate factory Willy Wonka
Give it away cos life ain’t about riches
Don’t give it away
Stay away from them bitches
Careful son
If you lay with dogs you rise with fleas
Scrub yo self and wear some fleece
A hater see you he flees
Scared of yo shadow
They freeze
Envy begets lust
Lust gonna dig you a grave like vengeance
Leave it to the Lord
No occult séance
Rest in knowledge like science
Just keep yo head down son
You don’t need nobody
Either they support or you rise alone
Yo friends ain’t yo friends if they can’t be real
Bring you in like fish on a reel
When you going wrong
If they only witchu when you get yo money
Then you need new friends
Fuck day 1
If they don’t help yo one day
Drop them on the wrong side of the one way
Get high like steam
Pushing that locomotive
They see you they go choo choo
You ain’t stopping
Cos the night train rides for the right brain
Careful son
Don’t look down on yo self
Just remember
You ain’t no god
All men must die
Valar Morghulis
Build yo castle
Raise the portcullis
Be modern
Work medieval
That means long tables and laughter throughout the night
Don’t do little and talk more
Be a giver
Ready to take somebody outta fright
Don’t do it for fame
Not riches
Do it cos it right and you loves what  you do
Not for bants or nothing else
People gonna come for you
Yes men
Oliver Twist
Vampires
Leeches that wanna drink yo blood
Let them taste nothing but yo success
When they come to you
Let them talk about how you opened their minds not their breeches
Sealed the breaches
Showed them love not bitches
I love you son
I always gotchu
Stay strong
Stay bold
And when yo can’t go on no more?
Sink on your knees and pray
Rise like the sun
Be good
Be God
Be careful son

© sena frost ‘17
Father & son
Image courtesy google images

Pygmy on a Giraffe

I am a Pygmy riding a giraffe with a nose ring in the polar straits of Antarctica
Yes it's true I defecate gold
Shiny ingots filling the toilet bowl
I only do that after I have taken a sip of tea in my favourite dadesen which I use to brew my apio
Which incidentally I store in Voltic bottles labelled as "Holy Water"
You can ascertain its purity for yourself as we discuss the chaos that is today's inflated market
By the way I own an agouti which eats only lion meat
If you care to know the meat is brought in by specially trained ladybugs which do the killing and preparation l
It's strange you'd think that's absurd
Because my Inuit wife's mother's great grand cousin twice removed on his father's side lives in an igloo in the heart of the Serengeti
See
My house was constructed from the fermented dung of a spider in labour
I can confidently discuss the Darwinian theories of evolution as we relax in my jacuzzi built from the salivary glands of the mosquitoes that inhabit the peaks of the Everest
I am a man of the most logical things
I thus find it very insulting that you would call my notions and living conditions as far fetched and anecdotal
After all a man with a toupee is a star spangled reflection

© sena frost '17

Pygmy on a Giraffe digital art courtesy kofidagher