Thoughts desiccating, Like snow on afternoon tarmac; Turning elegant meridians Into mist. An inelegant design, Fractured by uncertainty And regret And all left to chance. For more Poetry, click here. For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the … Continue reading Memories Lost. A poem.
I feel the absence The missing jigsaw heart That once made me whole And now makes me hole I feel every teardrop Every rip and tear Every shake and rattle And every distant sigh I feel the darkness These clouds … Continue reading A Loss. A poem.
Would that I could share this success with you? All the excess and fortune Pointing to moments unsolicited And gratuitous and circumspect All these worlds and words Of self doubt and self pity Replaced by self esteem And confidential confidence … Continue reading Share. 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 … Continue reading The Pantomime. A poem.
I’d long lost sight of my family As I descended the stairs slowly Those stairs they were so tricky It was easy to trip and slippery They climbed up the darkened stairs Out of my tomb and into the air … Continue reading Family Lost. A poem.
So, here I am, three years after the most harrowing time of my life and everything is pretty much still the same. I’m not any closer to finding a real purpose. I still have no love in my life. I’m still socially isolated. I still have no idea what I’m doing (my prayers sound like they’re on constant replay). I still have nothing to look forward to. I still suffer from anxiety and depression (although I can walk around now without fear of the walls closing in, so that’s something), I still have no work opportunities, I’m still pretending to … Continue reading Three Years Later…
Streets afire with love divine Taking names and stumbling feet Liquor-fuelled lust surrounds Like ships that sail on silken sheets Uproarious dinner conversations Filled with gentle goodbyes And enthusiastic hellos And iPhone intermissions A cello paints the night In shades of blue and grey Pining for the one that flew Internal circumspection played Each over-revved car drives by Panthers stealthy, by light they slept Reanimated by the sunset lie To hunt abroad for civil prey And here I am in bed, alone again Listening to the many voices Of Saturday night retreaded And wondering why I am here by choice Continue reading Saturday Night. A poem.
My last vestige of hope Beaten from me with the crowbar Of fear and distaste in your eyes Each blow taking my breath Bloodying my mind and soul Making me less of a man Until there’s nothing left But anger at the injustice of it all The irony of lie and truth If I’d lied there would be no hurt but my own With the truth there is your pain and judgement which I bear But my conscience will go on I lost the war before it began So raise your club and beat me Again and again and again … Continue reading Defeat. A poem.
Wasting away for you It’s the least that I can do Collapsed into myself My own considerable hell Lying here balled and foetal A fate completely total Floating in dead space All oxygen sucked away Darkness perpetuated Emptiness encapsulated Exhausted and beset Consumed with regret Wasting away for you It’s the least that I can do Continue reading Wasting. A poem.
Her eyes Moonlit pools to drown in Her smile Life preserver to save me Her laugh Ecstasy I was addicted to Her love Constant life renewal The dream Don’t ever wake me from Too late Face the truth, she’s gone Continue reading Wake Up. A poem.
There are lots of people who constantly lie. This is nothing new, of course. This poem is about them. Continue reading Fish Story. A poem.
Everything fades, in time. Especially memories. It’s funny how one person’s recollection, no matter how flawed, can become the new version of the truth…This poem is all about that. Continue reading Time. A poem.
I often feel like a wandering spirit. People look through me as if I’m not there. I wrote this poem for them. Continue reading Ghostly. A poem.
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