Space

I was a star like you
but I then imploded
I was a grand light
now I am a dull dwarf

The gravity we had
swung us too far

I am now an exoplanet
I am like Pluto
You’re still Jupiter
Your winds churning

My star
was black
unholy
sucking
tainting
the space
Killing
the light

My meteor mind
has crashed
down to earth
with force

and it sits
staring
at your
blinding light

I wanted our mutual orbit
to last for eternity
Now I must wait
for the rotation to let me see

Cold War

I’m left feeling cold

by this apparent war.

A crew torn asunder,

yet this thunder

has no storm.

This broken boat

has cap sized

under size large heads.

Kevin and Perry like kids.

Not heaven sent,

no holy smell.

Just spiteful noseless Parkers.

Peter pied pipers pepper pot,

is a kettle

black, tying a knot.

Like a Windsor,

but you’ll never be royals.

Left feeling flushed,

this lush needs soap.

Dope clean bars,

fresh new rhymes,

past times tick away

off the clock.

Facing away from featureless creatures,

with monstrous energies

and beastly vibes.

This beastmode scribe

writes a paper,

an essay.

Viewing your news as spam,

fake.

I’m not on the take.

No corrupt MF transmission

my mission keeps me woke til the AM.

I’ll slay ’em.

Don’t need payin.

Cos it’s not about the money,

but it is about change.

So I’ll resist,

until fuckers desist

and stop.

I’m hammering at heartstrings

and they’ll sing all the notes,

In short,

my hand will write,

my words will fight

and there will be blood

boiling in that kettle

you call black.

Fuck your nettles.

I sting back,

Like a bee.

We could have shared that flower.

but you cross pollinate for power

and you want it absolut(e).

Like Russian vodka.

Gushing like Niagra,

about the fall.

You prats.

Everything you do like a pregnant pause.

Everybody wants to be a cool cat.

But, you’ve left me feeling cold

and that’s that.

Self imposed hermitude

in response

to the spreading

of the self-sanctified

across all the spaces

that were not theirs

creating trenches

and loyalties

there are no sides

just mirrors

there is no game

just an act

telling stories

spinning yarns

catastrophising

between yourselves

ignored the need

of a needy friend

huddled around

a vampire instead

familiarity

breeds contempt

manufacturing

consent

you speak of ideology

of being outspoken

whilst you expand

into others places

ever spent

two seconds

thinking maybe

the problem is within

Of course not

that would require

seeing beyond

the end of your own nose

which you cut off

when you cut friends out

and get stuck

in a quagmire

a bed you made

stealing all the duvet

and leaving

everyone cold

no heart

no art

childish boys

and wet farts

In stating my opinion
I have been frank.
But, it holds little water
outside your think tank.

Unless the word is capitalised,
my opinion is null & token.
Unless I’m part of your group,
I’m not allowed to be outspoken.

Whilst fingers and thumbs
embed in many pies
embed in others events
embed in people’s eyes.

Sore subject to you,
about what is art.
The message was simple;
it’s what’s in the heart.

But, please twist my words.
They’re open for interpretation.
I clearly have ideas
way above my station.

Because I’m not allowed to say shit
without the need for censorship.

However, I will take heed
And use art however I need,
And fight against an ideology
that says I cant say what’s true for me.

What part of this list of damning things did you
find ringing so especially true?

I’m sorry that I SpokeOut of turn.
I’m still yet to learn
My new word order place.
I’m such an utter disgrace.

To poetry, to art, to the memory
of doing art for the sake of artistry.
So whilst you self anoint
I’ll thank you for totally proving my point.

art is sexy

ART IS NOT MONEY

ART IS NOT EGO

ART IS NOT IGNORANCE

ART IS NOT A MONOPOLY

ART IS NOT PROPAGANDA

ART IS NOT BACK-BITING

ART IS NOT SABOTAGE

ART IS NOT A BOY’S CLUB

ART IS NOT OPRESSION

ART IS NOT YOUR PET

ART IS NOT YOUR BITCH

ART IS NOT YOUR WHORE

ART IS NOT YOUR SLAVE

ART IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

ART IS NOT A BUSINESS

ART IS NOT A DICK MEASURING CONTEST

ART IS NOT MUTUAL SYCOPHANCY

ART IS NOT THERE TO MAKE YOU FEEL IMPORTANT

ART IS NOT A FUCKING HAT

ART IS NOT AN AFFECTED MODE OF SPEAKING

ART IS NOT YOURS

ART IS NOT MINE

ART IS NOT A COMMODITY

ART IS NOT A COLLECTIVE

ART IS NOT A DEFENSE MECHANISM

ART IS NOT A CIRCLE JERK

ART IS NOT A SHADY CABAL

ART IS NOT EXCLUSIVE

ART IS NOT EXPLOITATION

ART IS NOT TYRANNY

ART IS NOT CHURLISH CRITICISM

ART IS NOT YOUR PLAYTHING

ART IS NOT A SIDE DISH

ART IS NOT MEGALOMANIA

ART IS NOT CONSERVATIVE

ART IS NOT A CONSOLIDATION

ART IS NOT A COMPETITION

ART IS NOT A CULT

ART IS NOT OBJECTIVIST

ART IS NOT BEING A HIPSTER

ART IS NOT A PDF

ART IS NOT CAPITAL

ART IS NOT A C.V.

ART IS NOT A JOB

ART IS NOT AN EVENT

ART IS NOT CHINESE WHISPERS

ART IS NOT ASSOCIATED WITH…

ART IS NOT A FEE

ART IS NOT A CUP OF COFFEE

ART IS NOT COSTA

ART IS NOT OPENLY QUOTING CAMUS

ART IS NOT SELFISH

ART IS NOT HURT PRIDE

ART IS NOT YOU

ART IS NOT ME

ART IS NOT A BEARD

ART IS NOT A LIST POEM

ART IS NOT A PUB

ART IS NOT WAR

ART IS NOT ATTITUDE

ART IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS

ART IS NOT WHAT YOU WANT IT TO BE

ART IS NOT WHAT YOU DO

ART IS LOVE

AND

ART IS SEXY

Illeism

This one talks in illeisms.
James Donnelly is the illest illeist.
We don’t use terms like ‘me’ anymore,
and using ‘I’ is just the silliest.

Yet speaking in third person
is taken as egotism by some.
Surely, referring to yourself without ‘I/Me’
means the ego war is won.

‘I’ & ‘me’ are old hat.
We, this one, James Donnelly is cool.
But, it makes this human hard to understand
and makes us look a bit of a fool.

Despite talking like a psycho
and speaking like a dick.
James Donnelly is still the illest illeist
cos thinking about illeism is making this one sick.