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Showing posts from June, 2017


Would you consider it greedy
To ache for all that brightness
Missing that exquisite feeling The one of belonging and rightness
It's strange to yearn for crowded rooms For so many lilts and tones But jarring is this silence now Greyness, evenings spent alone
Spent are my limbs and lungs A rest from the fight is blessed Alas the lack of friends I made Leaves my heart put to the test
And perhaps it's just a drama Withdrawal from my high of glee Now my soul is left unsatisfied It makes no sense to you, but me
And no man is an island I've heard it said once or twice Before, not knowing any difference Now here a drowning vice
But may I still cling on to hope That the door is still half open Some of you may remember me Have enjoyed the words we've spoken
And mayhaps, tis the darkness Whispers words against new friends That perhaps what has been started It has yet to meet its ends


If for all the hopes and wishes
In my heart I had
A button or a bead then
I'd be just like an old lady living alone
With a tin that used to contain chocolate
Crammed full
Up to the brim with what once had been
Useful, bright and ready to be used
Now just fragments
Reminders of what plans I'd made
Rattling around
Until I pass away and to anyone else
They're nothing
Meaningless oddments to throw in the bin


A teardrop to a summer storm
Or more a truck stop to a driver
I do not know which one I was
My hope is that I'll be neither
A petal on a dying rose
Or its bush's prickly thorns
Either evergreen and unwanted
Or finite despite who mourns
It's hard to see what's pencil
And what is written in ink
I know that I'm indelible
Or at least that's what I think

To depart and leave behind
Naught but a ghost of joy and pain
I'll work until I'm deadly sure
Something of me will remain

I have no excuse, I was very depressed when I wrote this

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
But the band keeps playing on
And the dancers keep on twirling
As their shoe soles turn crimson
My blood type's AB positive And I'm positively sure                         I wish the only blood that's spilling  Would be mine across this floor
My eyes drift close, I'm failing           The band's melody begins to waver
And the dancers dance more slowly    To this new melancholy flavour
My lady beckons me closer                My cheek rests on the sticky floor    She's finally come to collect me          And set me free from this life's chore
Yet my heart does not feel joyous    Only sorrow has made it crack     Though all awaits me is more pain      I'll give anything to go back
This is how this chapter ends
But there’s still more here to write
I’ll pick myself up off this floor   
This novel won’t end tonight

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
And the band keeps playing on
But I'm twirling with the dancers
For now just managing to…


Do not press against these walls
These structures made of ash
And dust from all the little things
that shattered, made of glass
I have lived in many houses
That have all been built the same
I try to build them stronger
Yet they all end up aflame

This goes around in circles
A torture without end
Until I end up six feet down
In death I need no friends

Family get-together (and getaway as quickly as possible)

It's the family Christmas party
And everyone's gathered around
A chance to praise the family smarties
The rest go drink another round
My great aunt's still talking, droning on
Showing no signs of wearying or dropping
The babies start screaming, one by one
Shushed by mums, but not completely stopping
Eyeing up games, not monopoly, we're not mad
Even my Nana's sneaked out back for a fag
The food's been scoffed, mostly by my dad
We've been here an hour, it feels like a drag
At last I remember, as I'm on my umpteenth beer This is why we go through this just the once a year

3am Wanderings and Wonderings

End of day, soft pillow, warm quilt
Heater on high, empty room
Out-back courtyard, moon bright, stone hard
Goosebumps in post-midnight gloom

Eyes wide, can't sleep, struggling to unwind
Cold air, cold heart
Bare legs, smoke curls, once neat hair unfurls
Inside, fall apart

Orange light, stubbed out
Long night, no doubt


This is my place
This is for me
And if death comes for me tomorrow
Heaven should be here
Right here
Perhaps with the addition of books
Arranged neatly on a shelf
With pen and paper that never run out
And a teapot like that too
This is my place
And if life's path should lead me on
This place shall live forever in my mind
And in dreams, I live on in it


I still dream about you

When dark nights come without a star
You slip into my mind, heedless of other fantasies
Because I loved you
And each unconscious torment is born of my own fallacies

We were young, we could've had it all
Our laughter chimed, our hearts were light
Because I loved you
And when you asked, I stayed through the night

It wasn't enough

Good Things Come In Threes (or that one time I wrote a poem about murder)

The first time you died was when you met her
You came home and I saw the light in your eyes My smile is fixed as you describe her work
And I could feel the fires of your love for me die

I did not weep until you'd gone, my tears saved for the next day

The second time you died was with her in the car The crash, then the funeral, you stood; a shell
You died a death inside, and I knew if you could
You would swap us around and send me to hell

I did not weep till late at night, but my love for you would stay
The third time you died there was nothing for me
We had such hopes, I recall as my hands tightened
A necklace of the dust of my love gave you a blue blush
Your last death was mine and I found myself enlightened

I did not weep for you, my love, I just let you fade away

Sudden Mysteries in the Mystery Tea House

This is the place I love the most as I lounge
On a dark leather seat, cup in one hand
Phone clutched in the other as we sit
Talking about nothing, enjoying the day
This is the place I shared with you
A quiet place, full of scents and sound
And now the buzz of the phone in my hand
Signalling words from the word on my arm
This is the place I feel most calm
Soothed, though stunned inside my soul
As you smile and chat to me, a table
Between me and you, but now a gaping chasm
This is the place you burned me inside
As we decided to leave, and I insisted
That I pay for mine and you for yours
You noticed my silence as we walked out the door
This is the place that still remains mine And your cruel word linger only to remind Whilst you have been tarnished, by saying things unkind The Mystery Tea shop shall stay forever divine

I wrote this particular poem for uni, and it won best poem at an open mic night, but what do I know

When light is cold and warmth is cruel
Steel is home and blue is feeling
And there is no relief for those crying
Not for hedonists nor for those kneeling No way to stop this hopeless feeling
Clockwork workers, silently bleeding
Day in, day out and never ending
Always wanting but never needing
Clockwork people in plastic cities
Don't tell the truth of how they're feeling
They lie and cry and keep on going And know they have no chance of healing