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.


There are no chimes in hiccups

And bluebells never caught my attention before

But vicious sentiments are channelling through veins

I know the definition of coarse

And if there are any reconciliation of the tender sort

Perhaps there will be quips for the common good


Does it mean the furthest screams don’t need deaf ears

Or that the dust collecting on the floorboards of caravans

Are sedentary in nature

Either way they functioned for different reasons

Nobody is ever that clean


Some times the upstart is only temporarily agitated

And there are no zeitgeists that continuously prevail

But the hushed were sordid even before it all started

So don’t come knocking at doors expecting to have truths

Invite you warmly in


Clothing is done for a reason for a season

Lamenting slips under every known fibre to man

So joff around and nobody cares

There might be supper waiting in the attics of the miners


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