Category: Poet

Glass Ceiling

Carol Robson PoetLeave a comment 

 Glass Ceiling
 Speak your loud words 
 Break your chains
 Nay! 
 Shout your loud words
 Break life's chains
 Stop! 
 Discrimination
Hatred
 Cronyism
 Scream louder your words 
 Smash!
 That glass ceiling.
 ©Carol Robson

Incubus.

Carol Robson PoetLeave a comment 

 Incubus
  
 Life of constant bad thoughts
 crawling around my mind
 waiting to accommodate 
 my loss of control 
 why I fear my sleep time
 that is never inhabited 
 with good dreams
 only a constant 
 nightmare reality.
  
 Struggling to stay awake
 always losing the battle
 despite the pills.
 I try to grip reality.
 Failure, 
 drifting away
 into deep slumber
 of mystical shrouds 
 swirling in the creeping
 envelopment of darkness. 
  
 The demon surfaces
 revisiting my body.
 Dark red eyes piercing,
 cauterising mind control
 as he takes my soul
 on his nightly inhabitation,
 of pleasure, that I only know
 in this orgiastic world
 controlled by the Incubi.
  
 © Carol Robson

Silky Weaver (Poem)

Carol Robson PoetLeave a comment 

 Silky Weaver (Poem)
 (Arachne and Minvera, Greek Mythology))
  
 Weaver of tales
 resplendently regaled
 self-indulgent
 from humbleness,
 interlacing her stories,
 gathering her fame
 in silkiness
 of living threads.
  
 Disguised challenge
 old woman confronts
 respect the goddess,
 silky weaver 
 in defiance
 unbending
 that her substance
 of threads
 of weaves
 are the finest
 to behold.
  
 Battles of weavers
 spinning their tales,
 tapestries in arrogance
 silky weaver
 ridiculing
 scorning
 the Gods
 in weaves
 of their
 debauchery.
  
 In ire
 silky weaver 
 encounters
 wrathful goddess,
 striking silky weaver
 in anger.
  
 Atonement
 head hanging shame
 by the weaved noose,
 then in pity
 resurrection
 of silky weaver
 to poisonous
 silky spinning
 Arachnid.
  
 ©Carol Robson

I Love You Marvin.

Carol Robson PoetLeave a comment

For fans of Douglas Adams

I Love You Marvin

Time for me time

no longer giving to your time

I’m drained of energy

sort yourselves out

find somebody else to ask

there is always another mug

willing to listen

wishing you, would shut the fuck up.

My brain has gone to mush

years and years of listening

blah blah blah blah

same old stories repeated

get a fucking grip

you are the genius

the genius that can sort it

get a life, move on.

OMG I’ve turned into my hero

my morose, paranoid hero

you make me laugh, and cry

like you; ‘I didn’t ask to be made’

but at least I do have friends

your only friend was the rat

 he died in the cavity of your left ankle

I love your eternal brilliance

I love you for just being you

my Marvin the Paranoid Android

© Carol Robson