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Growing Slow

written by: SMiles

@stephenmiles2

 

When desires, to be pan piped by Morricone
wake, over hung, naked, with a willing beauty
working little, caring less, waving the world from the fast train
hoping to stop at the station called ambition

when money came, leaving elsewhere
life stretched to horizons infinity
tomorrows arrived always, faster and thick
foods fuel, consumed to survive

never meeting a wrinkle, heads hair, full
returning after every cut, inhabiting correct zones
colouring lighter in summer sun, darkening in winter
oblivious to the ambush, awaiting to pounce

drinking noon until dawn, sleeping sound
waking at eight, consuming any food, fried
day dreaming conviction, it to become a reality
believing only boxes are square, and fitting none

women coming, mostly going, onwards moving upwards
knowing truths of life's future, but never sharing
a realistic life grasp, shallow water holds no fish
only venturing your street, pursuing encounters

preparing a lack of preparation, allowing believe
instigation be spontaneous, never admitting nor requiring
male bravado, becoming a conquest, a vanquished friend
a mere distraction, marginalised to past fleet

left a delusional, consequence of hedonism
trained without feminist respect, and, of your time production
deluded by ignorance and immaturity, eye pleasing and virile
bent hell on consumption of available resources

tough acting Clint, directing an aged kitchen
west earning spaghetti, serenaded by Ennio's pipes
staring responsibility man, a true story production
presenting times of life, in time for death.

SMiles

SMiles

My name Is Stephen John Miles (SMiles) live in Barrow in Furness Cumbria England, I'm 53 diagnosed dyslexic at 47. Found my written voice once diagnosed and have been shouting ever since. I've a self published children's book Zac's leather elephant and a published children's book The fox the owl and the big green towel, I have a new children's book coming out later this year called Book of Zac. The books are published by Austin Macaulay. I made stories up to entertain my children all rhyming this led to the books. My break in poetry came after a friend of mine died and I wrote a poem for his funeral. Two years ago I appeared at the Bloomsbury festival in London. I write beat poems as it works well with my dyslexia. Something I feel strongly about is self expression after feeling excluded for so long. I'm not for everyone but then not everyone's for me so that makes us even.
SMiles

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