Old Friend. A poem.

I’m spiralling again:
an anxious emptiness,
a long bitter refrain,
that repeats over

and over
and over
and over
and over

in my angry, lonely brain.

Old friend,
you’ve never let me go,
though you always
let me down/
bring me down:
the crown upon my brow
that weighs so heavily
on my doubts.

I’ve accepted you
and held you tight;
a reliable lover
who’s always wrong
and always right.
I wallow with you each time
until I’m bereft and maimed,
every day
and every night
until I let you go again.

Until you return to me
now and then,

Old friend.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Avoidance. A poem.

I avoid you when I see you, now.
Not ships passing in the night
but rather garbage scows,
no more trashy encounters or the like.

No potential head-ons or man overboard,
now endlesss drunken shanties to help me smile
While in my mind I sing long of discord,
blue notes to accompany my alibi.

And all the while
trying to forget I knew you.

A quick two step and I’m a private dancer,
skirting the alleyway to miss your eyes.
Ultimately, I’ll hold myself together
as I always have, or so I’d like.

The weight of my regret—two tonnes—
It pulls me down when you’re around.
And so, under the carpet, swept,
the bitter thoughts and all I’ve left.

I’m trying to forget I knew you.

And that’s been unsuccessful, too.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Half-Life/Half-Light. poem.

Of this lingering

half-life,

only the iceberg tip exposed.

Beware what lies beneath:
cut glass, mirrored edges
and radical toxicity.

Splinters and elements
better left submerged;
its palpitating heart,
decaying in the

half-light.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Absent. A poem.

You who remain absent
Don’t celebrate your hypocrisy
Sliding on a sheen of contrariness
Recognise the source of their upheaval
You think time will make a fool of all
But it seems your veneer is wearing thin
And justice awaits your feeble excuses
To grasp what lies within

This poem is for all the abusers who think they got away with what they did. Justice comes to all.

Steve

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Discontentment. A poem.

Too plain, too pretty
Too full, too empty.
Too big, too small.
Too short, too tall.
Too rich, too poor.
Too fine, too sore.

A constant interchange of
histrionic and catatonic,
a test and trial of long-held resentment.
Find a balance and make your point
before you exceed your quota
of angst-filled discontentment.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Reach. A poem.

I reach
And ellipses of time
and motion
Quixotic
Remote-controlled emotion
The loving
contentment
of the
discontented
Repeated over and over
Masticated and
Manipulated
in my head
Like daffodil moments
and chloroformed thoughts
Venting in subspace
A dream prison
Of complexity
and indecision
From finish to start
and ending with
a question:
Where
Are
You
And
Why
Are
We
Apart?

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.
Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

The Pantomime. A poem.

The tears keep me awake at

night;

they burn my eyes and ducts,
sodden flames licking,
smoke broiling,
consuming the room of my

head

until I’m fit to choke
on all the pointless

condescension,

spluttering, unkempt,
raw and misbegotten.

Soaked in a pantomime
of longing and rejection
until the show is

over.

Those tears remain,
salty dew trails
that scar my cheeks,
a tattooed reminder that

never

leaves my side.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Rehasher. A poem.

Don’t you tire of the same old thing?
A less-than-subtle rehashing,
a troublesome re-treading,
a more meagre repetition
of what’s come and gone before.

Finally time to
Uproot all those
Common thoughts and
Kill them dead.

Your groove has become a rut
that gets deeper every
overwrought time.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Mad Method. A poem.

The method in my madness,
is often overrated.
But then again my madness
is often overstated.
Eternal slings and arrows
do permeate my mind,
with each outrageous fortune
lying not too far behind.

But the madness in my method
and the madness in my mind
is never just inflated,
understated or unkind.
The method in my madness
is the way that sees me through
the anger, pain, mind suicide
every thought outlined in blue.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Hurt (happy when I see you). A poem.

I hurt when I see you,
a mad combination of anger and pride.
Selfish and shallow,
Tear-filled and callow.
So glad you’re doing well;
I know you wallowed for awhile,
as indeterminate as I.
Now, you’re bouncing,
a supercharged rubber ball,
denying the laws of physics.

I’m happy when I see you,
but know I see right through you.
Liquid transparency in our eyes,
like life and death combined.
Memories fade but the rearview
ghosts will always stay the same.
I’m glad you made your way
and left me wandering
in front of headlights,
a deer awaiting the next
bull bar and asphalt kiss.

I hurt, but I’m happy when I see you.

Maybe you do, too.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Unforgiven. A poem.

Have I forgotten who I am?

Not when every turgid thought
drags the ocean bottom,
the silt clouding my mind
with all the pain I wrought.

Not when my perpetual aching heart
is torn in two with every memory
of every rancid moment
from dusk to red-eyed start.

Not when every apology
is a litany recited over,
every prayer a reminder
of wasteland perpetuity.

No, I won’t forget myself,
and I won’t forgive myself,
until you tell me so
and release me from this hell.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Curio. A poem.

A curio of times past,
rolling around a sea
of fingers and palm,
undulating on currents
of virtual memory
and static electricity.

Tactile and fertile,
like an ex-lover
with time to kill
and an ever-present urge
to explore old avenues.

Tempting as that may be,
some curiosities
are better cast into
the trash of entropy.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Intoxicated. A poem.

I was so into you—
every thought, every move,
was a riot of ecstasy
that shook me to my core.

More than destiny,
more than waking dreams
or midnight fantasies.
You were the bottle
and I was the alcoholic
reaching for just one more drink;
just a crazy intoxicant,
a fevered dream
that burned me up,
like a tenement fire
in a city-lost soul.

But like every addict
I had to come back down.
And when I finally touched ground,
shivering and drenched,
the cold light of day
reflected in my pain,
I realised the time had come
to give up the drink
and become a better whole.

And you?
I guess you became
someone else’s need,
someone else’s game.

Someone else to blame.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

My Son My Sun. A poem.

My love for you is bottomless without end infinite it is sunbeams and moonbeams and cluttered thoughts laughter and pain you are my sun and my moon and all the cliches in between and while your light shines I will forever bask in it yeah I’ve screwed up your life at times that’s what parenting is all about but hopefully I’m not doing it as much you can be a pain in the ass but I know you’re just working things out love is forgiveness good with the bad compromise and all that always rising above like sunbeams and moonbeams and cliches but never ending and always beginning my son my sun you are my world keep the light on and shine bright

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Tonight. A poem.

Am I mad and destitute
on this anxious road to success?
Or am I lost and found again
in artless vanity and regret?

Is this path I walk alone
of the living and the dead?
Or a marathon that leads me on
far from a shameful mess?

Do you hear my silken cries
or feel my sullen tears?
Do you smile all the while
or simply laugh at me?

Am I selfish or justified
to think and feel this way?
Or is it just another cross
I think I bear, today?

Will you pray for me again
as I walk the quivering wire?
Trying not to glance below
into the waiting fire.

No, You will hold me subtly
each and every time I tire.
You will always ease my pain:
right here, right now, in time.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Dirty Dancing. A poem.

Dance on my grave

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Pat it down and into place

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Celebrate the death of me

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Now you’re done, wash the dirt away

You wish you COULD, but you CAN’T.
You’ll always have dirt on your hands.

And feet.

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR…

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

This Morbid Fascination. A poem.

What is this morbid fascination
I have with the prospect of my
own uncertain and certain
demise?

It reeks of gentle desperation,
a perfidious need to know
the outcome of a life lived
in unconscious and conscious
vigilance.

No hangman’s noose for me,
no liquid death or razor’s end,
no toxic pills or silent sleep,
no horrors all too reticent
or bleak.

Or perhaps I am too pleasant.
Perhaps the end will see me
choking on bile and spume
as my heart clenches tight
around a half-crazed mind.

This morbid fascination
will be the end of me.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Spring Clean. A poem.

The thinking mind is such a pain.
But wondering isn’t much to gain,
and wandering round in there, you see,
gets one lost in pointless reverie.

I want to arrest those layabout thoughts
loitering on my old street corners,
take them off to gaol where they
can loiter somewhere else, to play.

My plaguing dreams reveal the cost
of all the ones I’ve loved and lost,
that took a turn, are worse for wear,
now clutter and forlorn despair.

And so, a compromise of sorts,
in which all the things I’ve lost and sought,
my memories, all gone to seed,
will fade away with the next spring clean.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Drifter. A poem.

When all the
                 lonely
                 drifters
                          are sleeping
                                         in their beds,
                 I will be out there
           drifting,
                   still no closer
                                   to my final goal.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Plague. A poem.

Why do you still plague me, so?
To inhabit me like a parasite,
gouging out my pale insides?
Churning up my hopeless dreams
like milk into aromatic cheese,
to accompany sides and crackers,
all the pieces left of me.

I tried to clear you out,
to tear up those thoughts
of you that lingered in
the shadow of my doubt.

But you are a constant here:
no razor can cut you free,
no serpentine threat can take
you away, as far as I can see.
I suppose that I am stuck with you,
like a whittling scar, or cancer tumour,
to eat me up in my pretence,
to despoil my thoughts
while I am lost in bitterness.

Your brilliance, it seems, forever blinds,
through my mind’s venetians,
you will forever shine.
I’ll long for you and wait for you
and die for you, as I always do.

A constant plague in my infected soul,
a longing and a long-lost goal.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Risk. A poem.

The wash of highlights
on your face
illuminates more
than worry in your eyes.

The antecedent
calls you back
to an enigma,
cold-cast in lies,
a veil that gently
mocks and knocks
upon an antiquated door,
whose wood-rotted timbers
hide a mystery
without clues or sleuths
to solve them.

Your obligation
to reveal these truths,
to open Pandora’s
rough-hewn box
and release the thousand
clawing, cloying
secrets within,
could be far less invasive
(you surmise) than

          a haemophiliac wound,
          bleeding endlessly,
          painfully, righteously

Are the scars worth the risk?
Is it just another enigma
dying for you to solve?
Just another way to get your fix?
Or should you leave
well enough alone?

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Moss-less, or begging ain’t so bad…

‘A poor man gathers no moss’, to coin a phrase.

Okay, that’s probably a bit stupid, but hopefully it got your attention. For those of you who’ve read my bio or have been following my blog for a while, you’ll know that I am a mature-age university student, struggling with depression and living on the poverty line (so what, some of you will say, so am I). For those of you who are slightly better off, I’m appealing to you to help me keep my site running.

As you know I write poetry, short stories, take photos, reviews, create maps for games, etc. Whilst these creative endeavours are all well and good, they don’t help me pay for the sad, yet humble, lifestyle I am accustomed to (baked beans are expensive, after all).

So, I’m appealing to you for help. At the bottom of my main page and to the right of this individual post you can find a button to donate a small amount to help keep me going. Every little bit helps and anything you can do is much appreciated.

I produce a lot of content, publishing something new everyday, and eventually I’d like to earn some sort of menial living from my creations. It’s a wonderful dream, and I’m certainly not there yet. I’m hoping you can help me keep going another day or two.

Even if you can’t afford to help, thanks for supporting my fragile ego every day!

Cheers

Steve 🙂

 

Nothing Less. A poem.

I left myself in such a mess,
recovery mode and nothing less.
Drowned my sorrows in emptiness,
succumbed to my own thoughtlessness.

But now I see the road ahead.
You light my way to more than this.
I guess this all was just a test,
Your way of saying “Just do your best”.

Now, I rise above the rest
to face the world, my sins addressed.
I’ve become, I must confess,
a better man and nothing less.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Sleeptalking. A poem.

Lying here
              Thinking
              Thinking
              Counting
                             Minutes
                             Hours
                             Sheep
A pretence
    rendered
       Black and blue
In ultraviolet

Hate my head
       For it hurts
                 Hurts
                 Hurts
Me so

Breathless again
Foggy-eyed and foggy-headed
          Branded
          Fool
Shake
Rinse
Repeat

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Winter of Our World. A poem.

Winter wanted one last bite
of the red, red cherry,
and so it returned
with steely vengeance,
to strike with icy blades
that shimmied through my skin
and took root within my veins.

The frost dusting the lawn
was a plague on both our houses,
and a sign of forlorn vendettas
lost to bitter hearts
and aching bones.

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Sweet Nothings. A poem.

Head down
Black entrails entwined
Around my throat
Choking the life
And whispering

Sweet nothings

Of mindless contempt
The residue of years
Of churning anger
The spittle of malice
And undisputed loathing
Clawing its way
Up from within
Until it’s without
Plastering the walls
Layering the floors
With enmity

Sweet nothings

And condescension
Are all that’s left
For me

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Step. A poem.

One
Foot
In
Front
Of the other

Every day

Step
Forward
Trying
Not
To step back

Every day

I
Move
A
Little
Further
Forward

Every day

I move a little further
To where I need to be

One
Step
Closer
To you

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Shadow Tales. A poem.

My aching thoughts and fretful angst
that often lead astray,
that wander in the ceding light,
whose shadows form my way.
The consequences of my time,
misled misgivings here,
they form a crazy, tangled skein,
the symptoms of my fears.
Beneath the coverlet of night
pulled tight to shield me so,
to trick me in the feeble light
whence all the shadows go.
Internal, puerile anger
that only suffocates my joy,
continues here to effervesce,
and shake me like a toy.
And when the crystal shear without
cuts through the satin veil,
I’ll be waiting here again
with my sad, poetic tale.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Tears. A poem.

Succinct and retrospect,
mercury lines connecting dots,
snaking and entwined,
‘tween valleys and hills,
pooling at the feet:
drowned confetti dreams.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Moon Thoughts. A poem.

The moon waxes and wanes,
in afterthoughts of the
bitter-sweet variety.

My wanderings have
brought me closer to
an undistinguished end,
and yet still I cling
to the filaments of
monopolised undertakings.

Moonlight fill my spirit,
build it up in a voodoo
pyre to burn and jest,
as if the last laugh were
worthy of redemption.

Play away, subtle light,
fix your steely gaze upon
this unctuous beggar
and cast a shadow long
unto his craven grave,
where silver shafts do
shape his own betrayal.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Make Your Way. A poem.

Indecision rules
in every fool,
the uninspired and undecided.

Confusion reigns
and fear sustains
the paltry and the parodied.

Mark this day,
make your way from
the aimless and objectionable.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Died Inside. A poem.

And as I slowly died inside
within the canny matrices
of my mind,

I came to understand it all
everything I’d ever been
done and seen,

as if every strand
was a flower bud opening
for the first time.

And as the tears flowed
and doused the floor
my sins like wine,

an overturned wash bucket,
overdue for mopping,
I slowly died inside.

And the loathsome cancer
of self-pity, self-hate,
and self-loathing,

took root and multiplied,
a calculus of lethal and
poisonous last rites.

The sum and division
of you and I.
I slowly died inside.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Nostalgia. A poem.

Nostalgia
On my mind
A keepsake
Turn it over
In my hands
A snow globe
Filled with memory
And the dust
Of fickle years
And absent foes
Now long forgotten
But present still

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Heel. A poem.

Why concern yourself
with where you walk?
I am just a reed
beneath your heel
cracking until broken,
outlined in your footprint.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Vagrant Heart. A poem.

And now every time I pass by you,
I remember when you were my muse.
My inspiration, a living rhyme
to hang my aching heart, in time.

          (I could and did, ‘til I was blue,
          write many volumes, just for you.
          But you never read and never knew,
          enigmas all and yet so full.)

Words flowed like the torrential rain,
now they flow right down the drain,
the endless drain out to the sea,
where tender mercies float and dream.
I’ll never know if you ever wondered,
guessed, assumed, or maybe stumbled,
upon the musings of my heart
disguised as metaphor in part.
I guess I was the greatest fool
for thinking you could love me, too.
I guess my words were wasted art,
the rantings of a vagrant heart.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

 

Surburbia. A poem.

                                My hurt
                                My tears
                                My pain
Are nothing more
Than your
                                Knowing smile
As you turn
And walk
While the
Rain washes
                               My frozen
                               Suburbia
Clean but
Still grey

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Shade. A poem.

There’s no rain, but the wind
blows and buffets and billows,
like an intransigent wolf at my door.
Cocooned in my chair and cold
sweeps and seeps through joints,
a lubricant of low viscosity oil.
The fire inside is only embers,
charcoal broiling in an emotive stew,
churning amongst gristle and bone.
What I’d give to fade away,
a listless shadow as the furnace
dies and dulls these pitted memories.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Stump. A poem.

I’m just a stump

By the road

You took your axe

And cut me

Down to size

Left me here

Just a stump

With not much

To reflect on

But passing traffic

Erstwhile glances

Just a stump

Worn and threadbare

Just a stump

Cut down in my prime

Admire your handiwork

As you pass

Stump

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

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