Mother, I Love You

Waking up in the mud,

Echoes of a man in a bathtub

Mother's got a cold,

Her clothes are getting old.

She strings her boots

Marching along the rout

Nobody knows her ways,

She's lost her good old days...

Her trousers are old

Her heart reflects gold

Yet stuck in a hole

In the streets she's enrolled;

Mother who cares for you?

Her misery's bold taboo,

Her luck's colored askew,

Her son she's never known.

And what for?

What was before?

Before waking up in the mud,

Before echoes of hate in the club,

Before spiking her heart

With remedies off the mart?

From a mother to a toddler,

The misery carried one to another.

about the poet

Adopted, I was brought up in Canada at 2 years old by a rich and weatlhy family. Always very shy and observing I stood my own alone through my young years and although with great difficulties at school, I stayed in my imagination, dreaming and simpling laughing at others and of my self through the years. I am largely inspired by poets such as RImbaud, Verlaine, Beaudelaire and other tragic poets. I constantly search to blend personal experiences with a touch of classic poetry or any musical movement I'm into at the moment. I started writing after being assigned to write a slam in 2017 in secondary five, where I was told I wrote the best text the teacher ever heard. From then on oscillating between finding inner peace with substance abuse and meditation and school, I finally went to hospital at 22 and since then have been pushing the boundaries of a creative sane person searching for peace and love all around all the while caressing the inner turmoils and the chaos surrounding life.