Please Start Making Sense

by Apollo Blake

Please Start Making Sense is a collection of 35 poems about the chaos and confusion of existence, from family, friendship, anger, our tendency to look for signs, and where we draw the line between our animal instincts and our human identity when frustrations with the modern world keep building up; the anger, the frustration, the pent-up animal in its cage in the back of your mind, can all of it please start making sense?

ebook

First published October 12, 2023

About the author

Kai Bishop was born and raised in New Brunswick, Canada, where he became fascinated with fantasy and sci-fi from a young age. He writes and publishes under the names Apollo Blake and Cosmo Knox. A massive lover of books, film, video game, and comics, he decided to become a writer when he was twelve years old, and never looked back. His favorite genres are urban fantasy and paranormal romance, he loves both outlining and discovery writing and switches between them from project to project, always listens to music when writing, and his favorite part of the writing process is drafting. He loves animals, sketching, gaming, cooking, and journaling, and spends most of his spare time reading, making music, and looking after his cats and dogs. He is sometimes sane, but mostly not, and almost always overthinking, which actually helps with the writing a lot.

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Reviews

[Kai (CuriousCompass)]

I wrote another poetry collection! This one is about living in a modern world with animal instincts, the value of art, and the nonsense of human existence and the emotions we have to balance. You can read it free right here!

Here's three of my favorite poems as a sneak peek:

7 - Hunter/Hare

Won’t tell you that I hate you,
Wanna fucking disgrace you
Got the better of me
And you spit in his face too

Rebel without a cause
I’m breaking these fucking walls
I wanna kill myself
So instead imma cut ‘em all,
Get on the ground, I wanna see you fucking crawl,
I’ll play the villain, I’ll take the role you cast me for,
Got me prepared, running fucking scared,
It feels good to be the hunter,
When you’ve only been the hare

16 - Gentle Work

Gentle means restraint,
Means holding back,
Protecting something weaker,
There is holy in that,
Gentle to me is at your mercy,
Even if I don’t want to be,
Sometimes we exist because we’re allowed to be,
By bigger beings, universal symphony,
Everything in my world as its meant to be,
And gently, night and sun,
Rotate, tide-locked, bright-loved,
All because they are gently whispered about,
By the human mothers of Earth,
Becoming symbols of our worth,
And the best kind of gentle work.

23 - Soured

It’s not about making art anymore,
You tasteless fucking hack,
And if it hurts to hear that,
Know I would never take it back,
Subtract ego and look for a second,
Why are you in it?

I do it because I live it,
I built it, it’s worth it,
Brick by brick, I’m staining it,
With blood, bones, shards of self,
Whatever else comes, still,
I wrote my name in
Bad weather, good grief,
Times you’ll never see,
The leaves only changed for me,
Just so you know.

I’m sick of your breaking,
Bitching, bleating, keening,
Yapping at my heel,
Always on your own,
Fighting your own battles right?
None of us have our own life,
Nobody but you knows the struggle!

Maybe if it wasn’t a legacy to your own
Asshole and all the shit it spews
Your art would mean more to you
And then mean more to someone else
Not just you trying to impress your self.
God damn you love your voice,
You’re alone and it’s your choice,
You can’t expect anyone to care you’re lonely,
When the only reason you share is to bask in it,
You love your own misery, you’re huffing it,
I’m not projecting it any more,
Empathy I give you fuels your ego complex,
And shitty art, you’re investing nothing in,
I won’t help someone who is shit at even faking it,
You refuse to know a damn thing,
And I’m sick of it.

Art is not your status symbol,
Status update,
Or fucking conversation point,
It is the blood in my veins and I’m not
Bleeding out anymore for fucking posers,
Who think I owe them honest conversation,
About something they didn’t care about making,
So fuck you and your undertaking,
I’m not afraid of the taste of sour grapes sis,
Maybe grow the fuck up and face it.