Poems by Stephen Philips

Poems by Andre Buter

Poems by Lynn Harrigan
and Scott M2

Poems by Koren Good

Poems by Kris Tilbury

Poems By Aaron Burr

Irrelevant: My Attempts at Obscurity (Poems)





The Ambient Poetry of Koren Good


The Pantomime

Pretend and say –
‘How shall we spend our day?’
You owe it to your friends, so pretend.
Ignore that nagging chorus repeating in your head,
Saying, ‘you’re already dead, you’re already dead.’

Carry on!
Laughing, smiling, dance!
Hide a weary glance, a sigh
Hide until the voice subsides...
Grumbling, ‘you’ve already died, you’ve already died.’

Still. Hold on.
        Time will lead you on, besides
        You can’t give into the sorrow, the crying
        Stick with the pantomime, the lying!
        Ignore the; ‘you’re already dying, you’re already dying.”

Continue, as you know you must,
Parade, serenade everyone around
Take each compliment, each secret said with every sound
Realise every revelation held within the light
Bid this darkness a goodnight,
Give all to you there is,
Till you steadily say;
‘I already live, I am ready to live.’

Nights Of My Youth

I stumble as I walk among floral cement,
Ignoring the others, all those others that have come
High-heeled dancing, about a certain some
with swollen hearts, those that are meant
to linger in this town. While I drown
with these sinners, all my time is spent
Tumbling with broken flowers,
Mumbling about wasted hours.

We dance at empty roadsides,
Though later there our day’s
meals splattered, but before I want to say,
“How we sinners aren’t the ones that hide
Behind pretence, that can’t make sense!”
But you, and you, all of the lies,
You spin inside your hateful towers.
That forced us into broken flowers.

Sobering, I will not linger on you.
But our dancers on this
star-filled night, though they miss,
Our fateful few, the
singing souls, as the twelfth bell tolls,
The night for us is hardly through
As we scream and swing for everything,
For nothing, our hearts will always sing.

We feel it in our youthful core,
Ignoring all that they call wise.
For we know more about vaulted skies
than knowledge, because that is more
than one can preach, though they may reach
out, they can never soar,
Aided or unaided
where few have gone before.

We cannot teach those that cower
To dance among the broken flowers.

Ambient is the Poetry Publishing Division of Dark Duck Records
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