As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.

Be hold the pages that you used to rest your head in

Where your chest pushed towards

And you thought they were all your brethren

 

Be held by colours and a scenery so splendid

The purlieus of which you surmise

You’ll never ever settle in

 

Criss-crossed alleyways – that hawk doth sing

Somehow the nightingale is just another

Pub darlin’

 

A pint of guinness for your troubles

And an affair for your time

Fill the space between the numbers of the watch

With your desires

 

Breathe easy – you shan’t be caught

Nobody really even cares

Unless you twist into somebody

That nobody really can even bear

 

Buy yourself a flat and furnish it with all your cheer

The riverbed soaked up

All of last evening’s dears

 

And be sure they won’t be dead

As long as you don’t bother to look

Just rest your weary eyes

In the bosom of that book