Unfortunately

 

How
Can I accept
Your offer to help
When that very offer
Is tainted?

By opening myself
To your love
I would also be reopening
The old wounds
Inflicted by you

Unfortunately
For both of us
Your love
Isn’t strong enough
To stop that pain

Unfortunately
For both of us
I am not
Strong enough
To move on


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.

 

Seed

 

Sometimes,
I feel like a seed.
A potential inert,
A possibility to succeed.
So just put me in the dirt
And give me what I need.
How else can I avert?
How else can I exceed?

Other times,
I feel hurt.
Just a societal weed.
A potential victim on alert,
Nurtured only when I bleed.
I don’t mean to be curt,
How else can I plead?
How else can I divert?
How else can I be freed?

I am the hurt seed, the weed that’s only freed by the blood that it bleeds. Put into the dirt just wishing to exceed. Inert without encouragement, unable to succeed. Thus, I plead; Be alert to my need. Don’t divert or think me curt, I just want to succeed.

So just bury me
And perhaps this seed
Will grow
Into a weed.


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.

 

Sad Zac is Sad

 

Sad Zac is sad
He’s feeling bad
He’s feeling like he’s been had
That the times he was glad
And feeling rad
Were in fact just a fad

As a wee lad
Sad Zac couldn’t relate to any comrade
He was bullied by Chad
Crying, he asked advice from his dad
‘Just punch his face a tad’
Lesson learnt, fists make a nomad
Add one tick to the notepad
No one approaches the battle clad
No one threatens the mad

Sad Zac is sad
Remembering his dad
Remembering him before he was mad
Rereading the notepad
Reminiscing of the success had
Ruminating on his advice to play mad
And embodying it as a personality pad

Sad Zac now fears the nomad
And trains daily for a fight he’s not yet had
Fear of the footpad wielding a doodad
Has grown into fear of every comrade
‘Where is the rest of the advice, dad?’
‘How can I avoid also going mad?’
‘What can I do to stay feeling glad?’
‘Who can I turn to now that you’re just a notepad?’

Sad Zac is still sad
But also a tad glad
Because putting these thoughts on this notepad
Has alleviated some of the mad
He still feels bad
But writing has healed some of his inner lad


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.

 

Dad

 

What thoughts
Are confined
In the vault
Of your mind?

Why
Don’t you speak
And share
What you think?

I don’t know
Who you are
Beyond what
I can see

And what I can see
Is that you
Clearly
Have no time for me


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.

 

years on repeat

 

huddled 
in a corner
years 
on repeat
every minute


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.

 

Questions

 

How
Can I mourn
The person
You didn’t allow me
To become?

Why
Do I
Keep believing
You’d want
To help me?

What
Would it take
To show you
That
I am
More lost
Than ever?

When
Will I feel
The love
You say
You have
For me?

Where
Are you
Now that you’ve
Left
Your marks
All over me?

Who
Am I
To deserve
These questions
Answered?


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.

 

dear little part of me

 

dear little part of me
you are safe and you are free
i know for years i didn’t see
just how much you kept my safety

you acted bravely
you kept watch gravely
forced to wield the sword and the shield
and the armour of a lady

but i need you to know

those times have now long past
we can breathe and break our fast
we can live and love and laugh

we can finally rest at last
that it’s safe for you to let go
safe to play and safe to be free
it’s safe for you to be you

and me to be me
i know for years I didn’t see
what you did for us
what you did for me

but i do now
so you can release
but i do now
so we can walk together in peace


This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.

You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 

Looking In

 

I close my eyes.

Where once there was vividness
There is now a vague blur.

Stories and visions intermingle
A kaleidoscope of confusion.

Words and non-words alike
Are spoken and responded to.

The allure of reality is lost,
Replaced by the bliss of the abyss.

The joy of not knowing
Is ever more tempting.

Closing my eyes to avoid it all,
To get to where release was once felt.

But no more.
The avalanche of memory greets me.
I cannot escape the pain inside.
I long to let it go.

To let it all go.


This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

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

 

Notice Me

 

I want you
To notice me.

Not for what I have done.
Not for the money I’ve made.
Not even for my art.

No.
I want you to notice me.

Me.

The man behind the artifice.
The man behind the smile.
The man behind the mask.

The man writing these words,
Knowing full well that you will never see them.

The man waiting for change,
Knowing full well that you are stuck in your ways.

The man who’s desperately seeking acknowledgement from a dry well. 

I want you
To notice me.

But I know you won’t.

How could you?

You, who was never there.
You, who looked the other way.
You, who set impossible standards.

You, who never wanted anything to do with me.

Isn’t it funny that despite all of this,
I still want you
To notice me?

Notice me.

Me.


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.

 

Leave

 

something innocuous
i’m triggered again
i know
it’s not your fault
despite how it feels
there’s nothing to be done
but leave

alone again
triggered by memory
unwarranted actions
taken against you
in a moment of passion
there was nothing for you to do
but leave


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.

 
Comment

Zachary Phillips

Zachary Phillips is a poet, author, mental health advocate, and mindset coach. In these roles he has helped thousands of people move from a place of surviving to passionately thriving.

He is the author of 17 books, teaches on Skillshare, Insight Timer, and Udemy, hosts the Reality Check podcast, and is the creator of the Ask A Poet YouTube channel.

He is a qualified teacher, personal trainer, life long martial artist & coach, disability support worker, Reiki master, and is currently studying a Master of Counselling.

i drift

 

i drift

away from you
and
from the parts of me
that know i am drifting

only later
do i see
my wake

i hear your words
i see your pain
i know you’re suffering

logically
i realise
that you
need me

it doesn’t help
me to connect

i drift

painful realities
dissipate upon arrival

i drift

directionless
and
devoid of meaning

a raft
without a sail
oblivious to nature’s whims

i am corrupted
by
the act
of forgetting
the act
of forgetting

the pain
is saved
for later

i drift


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 Point Of Trying

 

What’s the point of trying,
When my efforts leave me crying?
When my thoughts circle dying?
When I think everyone is lying?

What’s the point of trying,
If my bravest act is complying?
If it’s the deepest truths I’m denying?
If even greatness is unsatisfying?

What’s the point of trying,
When I’m constantly self-denying?
When a simple conversation is terrifying?
When depression is positive identifying?

What’s the point of trying,
If angsty poetry is all that I’m supplying?
If my mental state is all I’m edifying?
If an internet like is the peak of gratifying?

What is the point of trying,
When my legacy will be horrifying?
When my body will be mortifying?
When the result will be mystifying?

Yet I am trying.

Trying to be the one supplying a way to express the horrifying. Cause there is no denying, the thoughts of dying are mortifying, but also mystifying and strangely gratifying when you find that justifying the days spent crying, or self-denying, or complying, was purifying.

When life feels unsatisfying, there is something edifying, in identifying with the terrifying. Processing and magnifying, focussing, and occupying the stupefying underlying processes of the mind.

Perhaps the point of trying,
Is to begin the process of purifying
Is to enable present moment occupying
Is to deny the darkness justifying.

Perhaps the point of trying,
Is to promote hope magnifying.
Is to reveal your truth underlying.
Is to heal from trauma stupefying.


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 (un)Happy Family

 

***Trigger Warning***

Sure we seem normal from the outside,
But look closer and you will see,
The crevasses and cracks appearing,
In this happy family.

Daddy’s upright and professional,
Leaving for work early each day,
Except he’s banging his manager,
Yep, he is a closeted gay.

It started out as an extortion attempt,
The boss abusing his position,
Until Dad realised he enjoyed it,
Now he’s happy to be in submission.

It’s led to promotions,
And a new corner workspace,
Now he’s grooming his secretary,
Putting him in the same place.

Then there’s my little sister,
As cute as a button,
But on her first day of school,
She was taken as mutton.

Her teacher said she was naughty,
She was to stay back after class,
Told her to write lines,
But it was all just a farce.

My sister God bless her,
Hasn’t told a soul,
She just cut up her arms,
And eats to fill the hole.

My brother is nice and polite,
He always smiles appropriately.
But when left alone,
He acts demonstrably.

He is the reason why
Our cat passed away,
And why we no longer have
Our two dogs to play.

He wets the bed,
And lights garden fires
He once lost his mask,
And slashed some car tyres.

My big sister is devout,
Good grades, charity and service.
Because whether it’s in church or the floor,
On her knees she certainly isn’t nervous.

She almost got caught once,
In a locker room stall.
But her reputation as a saint,
Provided a deceptive shawl.

No she won’t go all the way,
She’s waiting for that special someone,
But that doesn’t stop her,
Giving all the boys some fun.

Now Mother’s a special case,
She keeps herself done up all nice,
Maintaining a pretty house,
And playing the good wife.

But when Dad’s at work,
And the kids are all out,
She downs some special pills,
And just lazes about.

She’s not happy with her life,
But isn’t sure why,
All she knows,
Is that she’s planning to die.

What about me you ask,
Have I faired any better?
Well I’ve learnt to keep myself hidden,
With silence as my fetter.

It’s better when I’m ignored,
And left to my own devices,
Because if I need them for anything,
I have to make some sacrifices.

Giving up my dinner,
Is much more preferred.
Than to be locked in my room,
With my screams overheard.

This is my happy family,
We keep to our own,
Never letting people in,
Learning to act the drone.

We don’t speak up,
No one could understand,
Nor could they do anything,
Cause they won’t see it first hand.

Dad’s never home,
And mum could be sober for a day,
My brother’s playing in backyard,
My big sister will just pray.

Nor will you see the cuts,
On my little sister’s arms,
Like me she covers her wounds
And other signs of self harm.

Besides, we would all defend each other
When push comes to shove,
Because know that the real danger,
Comes from outside of family love.

Despite all their problems,
They are all that I’ve got.
So what else can I do,
But accept them as my lot?


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.

 
Comment

Zachary Phillips

Zachary Phillips is a poet, author, mental health advocate, and mindset coach. In these roles he has helped thousands of people move from a place of surviving to passionately thriving.

He is the author of 17 books, teaches on Skillshare, Insight Timer, and Udemy, hosts the Reality Check podcast, and is the creator of the Ask A Poet YouTube channel.

He is a qualified teacher, personal trainer, life long martial artist & coach, disability support worker, Reiki master, and is currently studying a Master of Counselling.

Memories Compress

 

Memories compress,
In the recess of the mind.
Thoughts confined,
By the passing of time.

A shine dedicated
To a past divine.
The horrors expressed
So totally mine.

Waiting untouched,
A defensive confine.
Dissociated reality,
A false sublime.

Seen from above,
I’m left in a bind.
A fist is raised,
Told to stay in line.

Flashes of vision,
Pain a bright shine.
A hollow city,
Dysfunctional and blind.

Memory as a curse,
A picture of crime.
Cause and effect,
We’re both doing time.

It’s all guess work,
Just a twisted game,
Played against the self,
On the battleground of shame.

I don’t know much,
My brain is maimed.
Functional enough
To get itself tamed.

Forever questioning,
Looking to blame.
No way to win,
Just playing the game.

Victory is simple,
Just stave off dying.
Survive the day,
Then breakdown crying.

Because memories compress,
Forgotten with time.
Until you’re stupid enough,
To open your mind.


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.

 

Laughing

 

I don’t want
to be
where
I am.
I could move but
there is
nowhere
I can go.
I am trapped
inside
my cursed
mind.
It follows
me
everywhere,
laughing
at my
pain.


This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.

You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 
Comment

Zachary Phillips

Zachary Phillips is a poet, author, mental health advocate, and mindset coach. In these roles he has helped thousands of people move from a place of surviving to passionately thriving.

He is the author of 17 books, teaches on Skillshare, Insight Timer, and Udemy, hosts the Reality Check podcast, and is the creator of the Ask A Poet YouTube channel.

He is a qualified teacher, personal trainer, life long martial artist & coach, disability support worker, Reiki master, and is currently studying a Master of Counselling.

Other Than Here

 

The inner storm meets outer calm.
A silent fury.
Impotent rage not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner fog meets outer clarity.
A quiet constriction.
Clear thought not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner grime meets outer cleanliness.
A mute warning.
Functionality not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.


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.

 

Memory Violation

 

Brain oscillation,
No concentration,
Thought invasion,
Constant rumination,
Memory violation,
Past commiseration,
Unwanted stimulation,
Apologetic compensation,
Fleeting determination,
Hypocritical deliberation,
Personality creation,
False presentation,
Total ostentation,
Needing defibrillation.


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.

 
Comment

Zachary Phillips

Zachary Phillips is a poet, author, mental health advocate, and mindset coach. In these roles he has helped thousands of people move from a place of surviving to passionately thriving.

He is the author of 17 books, teaches on Skillshare, Insight Timer, and Udemy, hosts the Reality Check podcast, and is the creator of the Ask A Poet YouTube channel.

He is a qualified teacher, personal trainer, life long martial artist & coach, disability support worker, Reiki master, and is currently studying a Master of Counselling.

I Over Thought It & Hurt My Own Feelings

 

I over thought it and hurt my own feelings.
Ruminated and created some tearlings.
Them’s are tears that represent fears.
Them’s are shame and toxic self-blame.

I internalised it and took it out on you.
Rebelling and yelling that somethings ado.
‘Twas an attack that needs an unpack.
‘Twas a interrogation like presentation.

I blocked the world off and hurt myself.
Bashed and slashed at my body wealth.
That’s a knife leading to strife.
That’s a pile of pills causing ills.

I broke down and lost it all.
Cried and tried to take the last fall.
I was insane and overflowing with pain.
I was at rock bottom feeling forgotten.

I survived and came back to you wearily.
Apologising and explaining myself tearily.
The same story just more gory.
The trauma trick that I always stick.

I recovered and returned to my normal.
Flirting and fucking and acting all formal.
You said it’s okay, it was just a bad day.
You let me back in, despite all my sin.


This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.

You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

 
Comment

Zachary Phillips

Zachary Phillips is a poet, author, mental health advocate, and mindset coach. In these roles he has helped thousands of people move from a place of surviving to passionately thriving.

He is the author of 17 books, teaches on Skillshare, Insight Timer, and Udemy, hosts the Reality Check podcast, and is the creator of the Ask A Poet YouTube channel.

He is a qualified teacher, personal trainer, life long martial artist & coach, disability support worker, Reiki master, and is currently studying a Master of Counselling.

Flashback

 

There’s nowhere you can run to,
Nowhere you can hide,
Not when your problems
Are coming from inside.

You cannot escape them,
You cannot leave,
Now that blood is
Running down your sleeve.

Don’t try to face me,
Don’t try to hide,
Mummy, Daddy,
Why weren’t you by my side?

Do I want to sober up,
Or do I want to die?
Blank memories. Pain.
Watching his hand touch up my thigh.

I couldn’t say no,
I couldn’t flee,
Nothing I tried
Broke his hold of me.

Years have passed,
But his grip remains,
He took my body,
My soul, my brains.

So now I’m sitting here,
Stoned and alone,
Trying to remember
If I have ever felt at home.


This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

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