Haircut. A poem.
Just a haircut But almost a new me Maybe not that extreme Short back and sides No style or flare Not much different Not enough hair If only one could change one’s lot With just a haircut Continue reading Haircut. A poem.
Tag: Mental Health
Saturday Night. A poem.
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.
Again. A poem.
I woke up this morning And died a little inside Again Always the same thing Too much overthinking Again A mind is a cruel beast Taunting and self loathing Again I imagine a place of rest But it’s so far away Again Maybe I’ll just sleep Forever and a day Again Continue reading Again. A poem.
Baggage. A poem.
I took you on, baggage and all Your overstuffed luggage Way over the weight limit My own baggage was carry on Small and non-descript Since then my luggage has grown To the size of an elephant And I’m the only one who can carry it Far too costly and expensive So I’ll carry it on my own From now on Alone Continue reading Baggage. A poem.
Dregs. A poem.
I tried to get up But the black dog held me down Every movement was too hard Every thought a leaden weight Black dog growled And I submitted, giving up again The bed was my cage, my brain the lion tamer “Just who do you think you are?” he cried, cracking the whip again “This is who you’re meant to be,” I heard him through my pain And I lay there and wept, because some truths are hard to accept And the black dog lay upon me, a smile/a snarl on its lips “Today is not your day,” it said. … Continue reading Dregs. A poem.
House Sitter #3 – dark dregs
I’m house sitting for the next six days, and recording some songs I’ve written over the past year. Aghhh! Woke up this morning terribly depressed (as I sometimes do) and demotivated (Why? When you suffer from depression it just happens). … Continue reading House Sitter #3 – dark dregs
Defeat. 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. 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.
Tyre. A poem.
An average car tyre Covers thousands of miles Before it gets to the end of its time Rarely a smooth ride The tyre bumps and slides Goes round, then flattens and dies Some days I’m a tyre Just rolling through strife And always left wondering why And if I’m a tyre That explains why I’m tired Of going round and round all of my life Another experiment in meter, timing and rhyme. It’s based on limerick structure. I like to try different poetic forms. Free verse is cool, but sometimes I think I use it a lot because I’m a … Continue reading Tyre. A poem.
Fish Story. 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.
Session. A short tale.
Isn’t therapy wonderful? It makes you feel so good to get all that crap off your chest. Or bad, depending on how it goes. But what happens when it doesn’t go to plan? Continue reading Session. A short tale.
The Bed I Made. A poem.
Nobody said life was meant to be easy. It’s funny how someone can read something and only see what is on the surface. Poetry runs much deeper than that… Continue reading The Bed I Made. A poem.
Outlook. A poem.
I blame myself for a lot of things. Actually, I blame myself for everything that’s happened in my life. Here’s a poem about that. Continue reading Outlook. A poem.
Everything is awesome. Not.
I often get depressed at the worst times. Like today, when I have to do work for uni and my motivation is at an all-time low. The solution? Write aimlessly about depression for my blog. Yes, I’m sure that will solve everything (I may claim to be a writer, but I never claimed to be an intelligent or coherent writer. Or a man with a plan). Sometimes I play guitar to get me back to a reasonable mental state. But, as we all know (and as I should know, by now), music played by sad people often tends to be…sad. … Continue reading Everything is awesome. Not.
Ghostly. 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.
Laidback DM: SteveStillStanding.com 