For 25 years, I’ve watched you grow, and to me, you’ve always been perfect. You’ve taught me more than I could ever teach you, a role reversal I never expected, but always craved Homer and Lisa, playing out in real life. I see in you everything I wish the world could be. If even a small part of your kindness, strength, and honesty existed in everyone, things would be better. Soon, I’ll be twice your age, a moment that won’t come again. But if the years ahead are anything like these, I’ll always be in awe of you. #Poetry #Parenthood #Family #Fatherhood #Time #GrowingUp

A poem about repetition, risk, and what gets lost when creativity is filtered through what feels safest to sell. Capitalism drains creativity, squeezing what was once fresh, milking the familiar for another sequel, another remake, another safe return. New ideas struggle to break through, buried beneath the weight of past success, dismissed before they can take root, too risky to invest in, too different to try. The genres that dominate now were once untested, uncertain, given space to grow before they were packaged, commodified, and repeated. Art is more than a product. It needs risk, not just return. Support creation, don’t stifle it. #Poetry #Creativity #Art #Capitalism #Risk #Culture #Originality

A poem about honesty, emotional restraint, and the dull safety of always playing it nice. Please, anything but mindless good taste. The false smiles, the forced fun, the “crazy stories” that are just vanilla yarn, safe and smooth, never catching, never pulling, never real. The person who never wants to upset anyone—avoid them. They’re either as weak as a kitten’s mew or they’re holding back so much they’re the cork in the arse of a diarrhoea-iffic fart, and one day, they will explode. If you can’t handle your emotions, you’ll always be on the defensive, always flinching, always bracing. I’ve got your back against privileged bigots and their working-class, deluded disciples, against the culture wars that weaponise minorities so the idiots see white men as the only game in town. I’m not on about that. Just be a bit naughty, mix it up, see where the day takes you. Spice it up. Spices lift food to another level. Add spice to your life. Just like those Spice Girls told us. (Maybe not.) #Poetry #Authenticity #Emotions #Culture #Honesty #LifeAdvice #SpiceItUp

A quiet moment before the world wakes — warmth, stillness, and the small kind of happiness that asks for nothing more. Some mornings, everything just falls into place. The sun rises slow, painting the room in gold— not too bright, just a quiet promise that today will be a good one. Her head rests on your chest, hair spilling down to your ribs, just shy of a tickle. Skin on skin, warm and weightless, fitting together like soft puzzle pieces. The sheets cradle you both, cotton-wrapped in perfect stillness. Your left hand scratches the scruffy little dog curled against your thigh, sighing in his sleep. This is bliss awake before the world, wishing time would stay right here. #Poetry #Love #QuietMoments #MorningLight #Contentment #SimpleThings

Capitalism drains creativity, squeezing what was once fresh, milking the familiar for one more sequel, one more remake, one more safe return. New ideas don’t fail, they’re buried — judged too risky before they’re tested, too different before they’re understood. The genres that dominate now were once uncertain, given time to grow before they were packaged, sold, repeated. Art isn’t just a product. It needs risk, not guaranteed return. Support creation, or keep going back to the well. #Poetry #Creativity #Art #Capitalism #Risk #Originality #Culture