Seen Through Their Eyes

 

Seen through their eyes
my father’s shame
a new disguise.
Their questions,
first responded to by lies,
then by compromise,
and finally by a summarize
of all the things I despise.

Somehow they are surprised
to find me so compromised,
so paralyzed,
So utterly debilitized
with my inability to
sit analyzed
and scrutinized
and demoralized
and so clearly despised.

Of course they’ve taken offence
at my dropping of the pretense.
How could I have been so dense
to think they could handle my defense,
to think they’d want me to get off the fence,
to think they’d want my two cents?
Yes I’m intense.
Yes my pain presents as a nuisance.
Yes my demons are immense.
It’s common sense
All they see is my father in me.
How’s that for a recompense?


This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 

The Devil Speaks

 

The devil speaks
With the voice
Of those
I love

Whispering
Half truths
Whispering
Lies

I cannot
Always
Tell
Them apart

So
I hurt
The very people
I wanted to save


This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 

What is truth, Other than fiction?

 

What is truth,
Other than fiction?

An oil addition,
And political corruption,
From party contributions.

A narrative repeated,
Resources depleted,
Until resistance defeated.

A move to perception change,
From being considered strange,
Into unequivocally deranged.

Think this is a lie?
Look back and histories cry,
And witness those who die.

The best amongst us,
The ones who raised a fuss,
The holy and the righteous.

A bullet to silence
Those in defiance.
Those highlighting the hypocrisy of the violence.

‘But that’s the past’ you say,
‘It no longer happens that way’.
Perhaps, but wait until today is yesterday.

Then today’s leaders
Will be seen to be the cause of the bleeders,
Covert operations and illegal seizures.

But don’t you worry,
There’s nothing to be done,
It’s just how it is,
under our radiant sun.
They will continue taking,
At the barrel of a gun,
With the sign of a pen,
Or a secret bank run.

Knowing that truth is a lie
Won’t help you get by,
At best you’ll cry,
At worst your entire family will die.

Cause if you speak up too loudly,
They’ll come at you proudly,
Exclaiming that you’re dastardly,
And probably bastardly.

Your image will be dragged into the dust,
Your assets left to rust,
Your body buried below the crust.

So,
Open your mouth and swallow the narrative,
The truth is fiction and you will believe their prediction.

Keep quiet if you know what’s good for you,
Cause really, what good could you actually do? 

Just a full stop.
Just a conspiracy top.
Just a dead-beat flop,
with nothing more to drop.

Realise that truth you share won’t make it to air. But that air you used to share will be the last you ever dare.


This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 

Scrying Thoughts

 

bong hit
smoke eyes
see life
father’s eyes
different pain
new disguise
hot take
fresh lies
core aspects
i despise
diverted focus
stoned highs
scrying thoughts
child cries
look close
perpetual demise
broken dreams
sharp knives
self-worth
clichéd rhymes


This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.