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!

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!

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!

Eyes. A Poem.

Look into these eyes
That see so much and so far
Binocular imperceptibility
Local acuity skewed to emptiness
The sight that slices darkness like infrared
These eyes filled with tears and subtle defiance
Look into these hollow things and see imperfection
The blade that pierces heart and sinew, cuts it out, slices it up
These eyes
That have seen so much pain
But have yet to know
Real love   

 

I’m not sure how some of my poems come to mind, or why they are all so dark.

Oh, yes, I do. It’s because I’m a depressed and anguished soul. Well, that was easy. Next question?

Mountains and Valleys. A poem.

Mountains and valleys
Mark my moments
With breathless enthusiasm

Interminable
Inner monologues
From peak to trough
This way and that

Mountains and valleys
The sweat and steel
Of ongoing engagements

Untenable
Ceaseless skirmishes
Each step forward
A new conflict

Mountains and Valleys
Counting the cost
In endless grains of salt

 

I hate having depression. It’s not hard to guess what I wrote this poem about.

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