Another Bad Day?

Another bad day?
Good,
Your art will thank you.

Bad days are just writing fodder.
Fuel for the fire.

More content.
Increasing tension.
Emotional depth.
Nuanced complexity.

Suffer now,
Write later.

Suffer now,
Draw later.

Suffer now,
Create later.

Past pain providing prospective pieces of professional products.
Proof that there is always a silver lining.

---

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.

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.

The Newsman's Breath

The newsman’s breath,
Just a harbinger of death.
Constructing narratives with
False comparatives.
Corporate goals funding,
Logic holes.
Population dividing,
Conspiracy confiding.
Distorting truth,
Radicalising youth.
Their greed trumping
Our need.
Environmental destruction,
Mining construction.
Wage exploitation,
With no contemplation.
The same old story;
Power and glory.

Our only answer?
Revolutionary fervour.
Rioting on the streets,
BLM meets.
Public doxing,
Twitter mocking.
Grudge harbouring
Guillotine sharpening.
Wealth distribution,
Billionaire contribution.
A social awakening,
To a generational failing.

A new world order is needed,
Led by those less conceded.
Those who believe in humanity,
Who are blessed with a semblance of sanity.
People who plant the tree,
That they won’t live to see.
People who care about the children,
Regardless of their colour or origin
People who choose life over stuff,
Who actually can have enough.

Is this idealistic dreaming?
Or realistic future scheming?
What’s the alternative?
To agree with the affirmative.
To accept the status quo,
To look away saying ‘go’.
In my name invade and kill,
In my name do your will.
It can only end if we try,
If we are willing to fight and die.
To stand up and speak our minds,
To break society from its mental confines.

How?
Act now.
Write a letter,
March on a population centre.
Rally support,
Take the corrupt to court.
Speak out,
Get clout.
Subvert the narrative,
Join a collaborative.
Just do something,
Cause right now, you’re doing nothing.

---

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.

What Moves You?

What moves you?
What do you enjoy?
What do you wish existed?
What puts you into a state of flow?
What do you do for fun?

Focus your efforts there.

Money, fame and rewards may come in time, but don’t let materialism drive you. It is a fickle dream that can never be reached.

How much is enough? Always more. Thus you will never be satisfied, never truly happy.

Instead, you should embrace the process.

Let your actions speak for themselves. Let the art take centre stage.

Open yourself to the muse.
Let it work through you.
Let it guide your hand and buttress you with self-imposed discipline.

Success is an internal state.
No level of external reward can replace your inner truth.

So have fun.
Lean into the projects that bring you joy.
Make your work another form of play.

---

This poem is from the book ‘Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence’.

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

Your Actions Are A Prayer

Your actions are a prayer,
To the Gods of functionality.
Your mind, your body, your spirit.
Honour them.
Wake early.
Sit in silence.
Then move,
Attend the iron church, or run, or dance.
The Gods smile upon those who act.

You are what you do.
So study your craft.
Work on your craft.
Share your craft.
Take criticism and praise in the same breath,
You are neither as good or as bad as they say.
Embrace the daily grind.
Work when nobody’s looking.
Work when nobody cares.
Work when you are doubting yourself.
Work, because to you, work is play.
Push through all resistance.
The lights are never all green.
There is always a reason to stop.
Don’t.

Your actions are a prayer.
You are what you do.
So act like the best version of you.
This is the true power of
Faking it until you make it.
Of embodying your true calling,
Of greatness.

This change will take time.
There is a lag between action and reward.
And when it does come,
It won’t be announced with fanfare.
Growth will be incremental.
Small gains,
Tiny improvements,
Minute advancements.
This is as it should be.

So act.
Act as a prayer to the Gods of functionality.
And have faith.
Faith in the process,
Faith in the future,
Faith in yourself.
And remember,
You are what you do.

---

This poem is from the book ‘Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence’.

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

Curation: A Poem On Self-Expression & Medium Success

My last six poems got curated,
Here is what I have learned:
That that kind of exposure
It must be earned.

So I write daily.
Read books like I’m crazy.
Pen and pad live in my pocket.
No excuse to be lazy.

Fighting inner resistance
Is a constant reality,
Realising that my lines here
Only show a fraction of my depravity.

Because good poetry,
It comes from truth,
And that truth,
Reveals a shattered youth.

So I share my inner world,
Twisting words onto the page,
Most of it’s garbage,
I only share what looks sage.

Throw enough darts,
And one will hit centre,
So I just write my mind down,
And then press enter.

Chances are that
You are better than I.
You just hold back,
Never risking a try.

I’ve learnt
To only look forward.
To let others judge me,
To not feel awkward.

To write what comes,
To write some more,
To keep writing always,
To keep open the door.

To the muse,
The source of my creativity,
Because really I’m just a vessel,
These words are not my proclivity.

I choose to be open,
Then the words just appear,
So I write them down,
And create something people hold dear.

Even these words you are reading right now.
I don’t know the next rhyme,
Paragraph, topic or theme,
But I know it will come in time.

So trust the process.
Believe in yourself.
Surrender to the muse
And acquire some poetry wealth.

I’m not merely talking about
The proceeds from curation.
I’m talking about spiritual gains
From focused concentration.

I’m talking about
Getting your mind online,
Exploring your inner world
And tapping into the divine.

Perhaps you are saying
That this is far too mystical,
So I instead will
Urge you to be statistical.

Look up, read and research
What the top poets are doing.
Imitate and extrapolate their work,
Find the secret with some sleuthing.

Or simply reread this piece,
And check out my other poems,
And you too will get curated,
By expressing some emotions.

---

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.

Mantra

Be present,
For now is all that exists.
Grow, enjoy, and act morally.
Drop your ego, listen,
Empathise and forgive.
Trust your intuition and be compassionate.
Nothing more is within your control.
Let it go and just feel.
Accept yourself.

---

This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence.

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

Writing Therapy

Writing Therapy.

Just words on a page,
Or something more?

The page listens,
The page absorbs,
The page doesn’t judge.

The page can be discarded,
The page can be shared,
The page can be reread.

The act of writing heals.

It pulls the demons out.
It exposes them to the light.
It reveals them for what they are.

Fabrication.
Rumination.
Improbability.
Regret.

The act of writing instructs.

It informs our current state.
Shows our inner workings.
Forces us to be precise.

After writing comes the review.
By looking back we see the truth.

Of how far we’ve come.
Of our varied and ever changing moods.
Of different aspects of ourselves.

We see that we are more complex than our current mental state can possibly comprehend.

So write.

Write without judgement. Without pause for grammar or spelling. Without thoughts of what is appropriate or right. Without care for its readability. Without concern for the judgement of others.

It is the act of writing that counts, not the quality that you produce.

No one has to see it.

So just write.

---

This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence.

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

Take The Damn Pill

Take the damn pill,
You’re on it for a reason.
It’s to stop you feeling ill,
To keep you from self-treason.

Sure you’re feeling fine,
But how long will it last?
You know you’re not divine,
Just look back at your past.

There was that time you went cold turkey,
When you knew it would be fine.
Instead your mind went murky,
And you turned to a life of crime.

Or when you got the jitters,
So bad you couldn’t sleep.
Feeling your skin crawling with critters,
Causing you to weep.

Or that time you almost died,
When depression come back strong.
Or the time that you lied,
To yourself that something wasn’t wrong.

Take the damn pill,
You’re on it for a reason.
I don’t want to be reading your will,
As the last act of the season.

---

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.

Waste A Day

A wasted day,
Mental health gone away,
I don’t want to stay,
I wish there was another way,
In constant dismay,
Life’s all work no play,
Never enough pay.

//

I want to play with you,
Find a place to lay with you,
Spend the night and stay with you,
Waste another day with you.

I’ve seen you slay,
And have it your way,
Made the boys pay,
Taking them as you may.

---

This poem represents the range of my mood. I was written over two days: the first half when depressed, and the second half when hyper-sexual.

I wanted to use the same words/rhymes to represent the two contrasted emotional states.

---

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.

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.

The Derelict

The first thing you notice are his bare feet,
Black and dirty.
Lacking a chair, he squats.
Lacking a home, he squats.
The second thing you notice are his eyes,
Sunken and hollow. Desperate.
You walk.
He sees you seeing him.
You walk faster.
He smiles wide.
His teeth are as broken as the dwelling he guards.
Shattered windows for a shattered soul.
He calls out.
You walk faster still.
His sunken eyes suddenly grow sharp.
He recognises an opportunity.
You wear things of value,
You are something of value.
Then a second voice joins the first,
And then a third.
They point. They chuckle. They stand.
Your wealth represents their high.
Your body represents their high.
You run.

---

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.

The Gift and the Choice

When you can see your future,
How do you choose?

Every option has suffering.
Every path leads to death.

Exponentially branching,
Your vision fades,
The deeper you go.

You can’t hold it all.
You don’t have the processing power.

It hurts you, this gift.
You feel it all, all at once.

So you block it,
Mentally put a stop to it.
You turn away from it,
And curse it.

This leaves you dull,
Blind to the beauty of your choice,
The choice you made,
The choice to turn your gift off.

For there is still life,
There is still love,
Vivid, like a flower in the dirt.

If you only knew
how to look.

---

This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence.

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

Thoughts Intrude

Thoughts intrude,
Like a hammer’s blow,
Destroying the peace
I’ve cultivated.

Thoughts intrude,
Like a siren’s scream,
Stealing the attention
I’ve promised.

Thoughts intrude,
Like a threatening word,
Forcing the action
I’ve avoided.

Thoughts intrude,
Like a funeral march,
Revealing the emotions
I’ve suppressed.

Thoughts intrude,
Like a bird’s call,
Highlighting the beauty
I’ve missed.

Thoughts intrude,
Like a child’s smile,
Connecting the reality
I’ve lost.

---

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.

Choose Wisely

Why do you think
It will be ok?
Because thinking so
Takes your anxiety away.

How do you know
It won’t happen to you?
Because knowing so
Is all you can do.

What makes you certain
It won’t be a bad day?
Because you get down
On your knees and pray.

You don’t even believe
In the power of positive thought,
If it were someone else,
You’d say their methods wrought.

That they are just
As likely as another,
To undergo pain, loss,
And oh yes, to suffer.

Yet for you, you permit yourself
This one kind of fiction,
Because it allows you to function
With renewed conviction.

But what happens when
The charms and mind games fail?
What will happen when
Life causes you to wail?

Don’t you go thinking
That these words are lies,
That the message here
Is something to despise.

It is merely a warning
To get your house in order,
Because eventually life
Will throw it into disorder.

Look up the numbers
Apply them to your life,
Statically speaking,
You will go through similar strife.

But it doesn’t feel this way,
You are somehow special,
That’s just your ego talking,
With the words of the devil.

You will reap what you sow,
Getting what you deserve,
The actions you take now,
Dictate what life will serve.

Look at your past and trace life back,
What you did then put you on this track.

So choose wisely.

---

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.

You Say

You say you love me,
But you don’t know me,
Not the full me,
Not every part of me,
Not as I really am.

You say I should open up,
That I should share,
That I should let you in,
Into my inner world,
Into my mind, my emotions, my everything.

You say you will accept me,
But that’s a lie,
You don’t know me,
Not all of me,
Not the parts you haven’t seen.

Do you know yourself well enough?
How will you react to me?
What will you do when I show you?
What will you think of my darkness?
My pain? My weaknesses? My desires?

No.
You only accept the parts you’ve seen.
Then you make assumptions,
Of yourself,
Of me.

That I’m not that bad,
That there isn’t much more,
That embarrassment holds me back,
That you can save me,
That you would want to.

It is safer to hide,
To show a just little,
Just the parts that are acceptable,
The parts I have practiced,
The parts that work.

You don’t love me,
You just love those parts,
You just love the surface,
Your love hasn’t touched the depths,
It never will.

---

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.

Red Signs and Rainbows

Red signs and rainbows,
Nanna’s gone away,
Mum and Dad are stressed,
So many bills to pay,

Empty schools
Abandoned shops,
Empty playgrounds,
Broken hopes,

A fever dream,
Days drifting together,
Visiting hours closed,
Only memories last forever,

Daddy’s started drinking,
Mummy sleeps a lot,
Daddy’s getting angry,
Mommy’s lost the plot,

They are always here,
Adapt to the new norm
Survive till night,
Weather the storm.

Stuck in this house,
All is gone,
Nothing to do,
No place to mourn.

Flatten the curve,
Keep your distance,
Unemployment lines,
Struggling for subsistence.

Protesters amassing,
Ignoring science,
Just making it worse,
With their continued defiance.

Red signs and rainbows,
My child just wants to play,
He is going stir crazy
Every damn day.

---

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.

The Writer's Prayer

I am a writer.
I have given myself this time to write.
This time is sacred.
I will not waste it.
I will not worry about the quality, worth, or potential audience.
I will just write.
I will get the words on the page, as they come, without judgement, without filter.
I will write because I love it, because I have something to say, and because writing heals me.

And when the time is up, I will let it go, until I sit down to write again.

---

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.

I Am Constant Change

Who am I other than constant change?

Thoughts come and go,
Same with emotion, memory and desire,
I am not who I was a moment ago,
And who I am won’t last.

I am constant change,
I am the thread of time,
Birth to death,
Ever changing,
Ever growing,
Never the same.

I am constant change,
I accept this change,
Embrace it,
Lean into it.

Therefore I won’t delete my past,
It was me,
Just as much me as my desire to delete it,
Who knows what I will think in four minutes?

I am constant change.

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This poem is from the book ‘Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence’.

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

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.

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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.