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Best Poems Written by Philip T. G.

Below are the all-time best Philip T. G. poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Because I'M Galactic

All the lights dim out
as I crawl into my spacesuit.
I fill the air with crystal screams,
my mind is ripping at the seams.

If it falls apart,
I will surely wait here.
I'm made of gold in all my dreams,
surrounded by my favourite things.

The stars will age and die,
blowing matter to new places.
My flesh is celestial dust,
but my golden bones will rust.

I never asked to be here;
This equation isn't right,
All I taste is bittersweet -
there's broken dreams between my teeth.

The glowing lights will permeate,
the stardust spreads and dissipates,
and I will always wonder why.
I'll keep your secrets, hope to die.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Treehouse

They went through the woods
in worn out shoes
to pick a life no one should,
to make a choice no other’d choose:

To defend the trees,
their roots, their spires -
even the leaves
were deeply admired.

So they took up their arms,
and sharpened their sticks;
they sounded the alarms,
and marched into the thick.

And all around them were burnt-out stumps,
fallen branches and logs.
Smoke tainted their virgin lungs,
and they knew they had to right the wrongs.

Then into the heart they slowly crept,
wielding their sharp tools;
They found where the Fires hid and wept,
and they pounced on him like childish fools.

Their tools of wood burned,
as would the whole of their world,
and for Ice they yearned
just before their eyes rolled back like pearls.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Miss Exotic

Sorrow is the spawn of rich, elected meisters;
the Arms Race, the silent wars, and particle colliders,

The climb of Sputnik, the fires, and the importance of Geneva,
but the radaranges and spy planes have given us amnesia. 

The world has gone silent, despite being littered with radios,
the wordless conflict being observed from orbital telescopes.

The end of this rock is coming all too soon,
and the last tears to be shed will be shed from on the moon.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Where Stars Are

By everyone else, he seemed quite a bother.
But to me, he wasn’t, couldn’t, isn’t;
He, like me, was often distant.
He wanted to look through my telescope at the stars,
but it was daylight - not where stars are.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Killers

Knowing precisely the consequences of my actions didn't stop me.
If anything, it made my desires burn bright
Like a fiery beacon. 
Looking back now, I can see
Exactly why things went down the way they did. Yet, still, you whisper:
"Remember me. Don't forget about this.
Silence. That's all I can respond with.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Atmospheres

I am disappearing,
Fading into quantum theories;
I’ve got a time travel problem 
And astronomical burns.
Surely I am flying,
But clearly I am dying.
I will never pass 
this test with colors flying.
I don't believe you most the time, 
My goblet tips and spills the wine, 
The sun god rises, but not for I.
You are the world, I am a swine.
Every bridge of mine has burned, 
This is the point of no return -
The court has met and has adjourned,
But I am unconcerned.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

A Formal Apology

I burn in a light of ecstasy,
scorching the neighbours right next to me.
Show me the gates of prophesy
and torch our temple of memories.
Molten dreams flow out the seams,
denying the laws of gravity
as they capture every tower seen.
I am not the 'me' you know as 'me',
and I am not, was not, never will be
the hero that I so long to be.
I'm sorry.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Youth

You, as far as I can tell, are 
On as many paths as I am pills; but even
Under the influence of both you and the little blues,
The innocence in your eyes is unrecognizable. 
"Hi, love," I whisper.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Auf Wiedersehen

Our love had ran rampant, stretched out thin,
Like the neck of an old green absinthe bottle. 
She was here, and I there. She said this, and I said that. 
Oh! Oh, how she teased. One day, she’d be near,
But not near enough. This kind of game makes a
Man lose his mind, like a child loses their 
Coloured pencils in the bottoms of their backpacks.

I sat down in a coffee shop one morning, while 
The dew was still on the grass, and I waited for
A short while. She was scheduled to make
An appearance, and we were to end this
Bizarre charade - this hide and seek game.
Not a chance, I thought after a while.

I strolled out, and down the lane,
Snaking my way to the bridge.
I looked out over the Thames, 
Sighed, and shrugged my shoulders.
"Auf wiedersehen", I whispered,
Turning on my heels to depart.
There’d be plenty of coffee shops,
And plenty of girls
To wait in them for.

Details | Philip T. G. Poem

Art

Always awake,
Always alert -
Ignoring every bit of hurt.
Feeling all the mortal pains
Caused by all my mortal ways;
It's always more than I can take.
Make it stop, please, for my sake.
For goodness' sake.
For anyone's sake.
Goddammit, this isn't a poem anymore.
It's a blatant cry for help, and a message:
Don't wait for an artist to ask.
An artist paints,
Draws,
Sketches,
Writes the pain -
And not the pains of yesterday,
But everyday.
Pretty colours are demons,
Lines are marching warriors,
And they can only be won when we
Stop seeing their wars as dollar signs
In home collections
And start recognising that every hue
And every shape is something a 
Bleeding heart has made.
Not for me, not for you,
But as a monument to all they've ever
Fought through.