Office Tweeter Socially Benchmarking

Ah, the way the wind blows

Matters not to men in offices insulated

But ask the fisherman casting his net on the soul grating sea

Or the red cheeked child with ebullient eyes

To whom the parade of kites portrays a world of rainbow possibility.

Ah, the comma. Just a squidgy dot, waste of space

Matters not to the frenetic tweeter

But ask the teacher who commits her life

To a generation

Who’ll either plant trees or start fires,

Depending on whether they had enough time

To, for reflection, pause.

Ah, the pen marks on the wall

Scars on the beautiful flower pattern

To the Joneses.

For the mother, a reminder timeless of days innocent

Before Responsibility’s wings

Flew her young from the nest.

Hamish Kamoshi ©2015

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Giving Up

I can’t cope with the fact I can’t cope

can’t feel the numbness I can’t feel

can’t hide the pain I can’ t hide

but

 I hope one day I’ll have hope.

 I’m holding on to barbed wire

to stop the razors of resentment

from cutting, bleeding me dry;

banging my head against a wall

to prevent my skull from fracturing,

jumping off a cliff to stop myself

taking my own life.

Sorrows never drown

because Memory is too fucking good at resuscitation.

I dig myself a hole

because I’m split in half

one way up, one way down

in-between a smile and frown

nothing to verb, just a hollow noun.

Burning my flesh to keep from feeling

that incinerating chill

crawling within my cells 

sucking out my will.

Still I stand on a rotating circle,

 always at square none,

giving up always,

always getting started never.

At the end of the old rope’s last thread

I’ve given up on everything,

even giving up itself.

There is, then, nothing left to do

but try one more time.

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

A Piece of a Peace of Mind

Any chance I can find a piece of a peace of mind

by entering inside of yours?

Will a smile let me in, let’s start a conversation

take me deep, not just around your contours

I’m talking to me, but I’m not listening

too busy eavesdropping on the chatter of the glistening

well to do ones who seem to have it all figured

 by every word they say my insecurities are triggered

Any chance I can find a piece of a peace of mind?

If I dig inside with thoughts of wisdom?

If I unplug myself from the system?

If I look below, if I look behind?

Might I find a piece of a peace of mind?

All I ask is for a quarter, I’d even take a third

of that serenity you see in the gliding birds

A piece of peace-just one wing of a dove

even just one feather will keep my faith in Love

A piece of peace; appease my patience before it peters out

A piece of peace: I ask with peace, please-don’t make me shout

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

(Previously published as Sulphur Petals)