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 … Continue reading Spring Clean. A poem.
When all the lonely drifters are sleeping … Continue reading Drifter. 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 … Continue reading Plague. 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 … Continue reading The Risk. A poem.
‘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 … Continue reading Moss-less, or begging ain’t so bad…
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 … Continue reading Nothing Less. A poem.
Lying here Thinking Thinking Counting … Continue reading Sleeptalking. 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 … Continue reading The Winter of Our World. A poem.
I shrink before your bitter ire that holds me in its angry grip. Where gentle touch consumed me, prior, now smothers this apprenticeship. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at … Continue reading Grip. 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 … Continue reading Sweet Nothings. 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 … Continue reading Step. 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. … Continue reading Shadow Tales. 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 … Continue reading Tears. A poem.
Your scent was different, lingering in my nostrils, a whiff of nostalgic free fall and extra sensory motion. The fumes of you twisted around me and consumed every pore and fibre of my unwholesome being. Should I have let that … Continue reading Fumes of You. 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, … Continue reading Make Your Way. A poem.
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