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.
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’.

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Red Flag Chaser

I’m a red flag chaser
A self-debaser
That tattooed look
Leaves me shook
Dabbling in drugs
With ‘caring’ thugs
Incredible sex
For the brain hex
Insightful conversations
Just distracted ruminations
Same toxic pattern
From abstinent to slattern
A mirror’s shame
Only myself to blame
Left alone and burnt
No lesson learnt
I get off on the thrill
Of you losing your chill
I hate when you insist
With a scream and a fist
But it’s worth the pain
To feel like myself again
A childhood’s toll
Red flags make me whole
The end of another fight
This is love, right?

---

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

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Mojito the Bandito

Mojito the Bandito,
On the run from the law.
Hired an impersonator,
So in two places, he can be saw.

Committing crimes,
But seen with an alibi.
The adventures he had,
His schemes weren’t shy.

The cartels took notice,
Alas it couldn’t last,
Told Mojito to stop,
Or his head they would blast.

But Mojito wasn’t stupid,
He had a plan to enact,
Told his impersonator to wait,
Then it was Mojito’s time to act.

He shot the man himself,
Displayed his body on the town’s wall.
Made the cartels happy,
And Mojito attended his own funeral.

Now he rides free,
A gun at his side.
Named Mojito no more,
His face he must hide.

Beware the masked bandit,
The criminal with no name,
He will kill you where you stand,
And leave with no shame.

---

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

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Intentions

Intentions are hotter than actions.

It’s not how you look,
What you wear,
Or what you do that matters.

It’s what you intend to do.
What you hope to make happen.
How you want your partner to feel,
Before, during and after.

It’s how your desire transforms your reality.

Once begun,
Seduction never ends.

It starts in the mind,
Continues with words,
And is accentuated by the body
A seed to be nourished, tendered, guarded,
And then consumed.

A seductress knows her intention,
Hones it,
And only then acts.

---

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

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Imperfect Synonyms

i hate
imperfect synonyms
unless I’m desperate
for a rhyme

language specificity
is imperative
for effective communication
and management of time

---

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

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It's Not Wrong

It’s not wrong to disagree
Just make sure you speak fairly

It’s not wrong to say goodbye
Just make sure you first try

It’s not wrong to say sorry
Just make sure it’s not out of worry

It’s not wrong to up and leave
Just make sure your heart’s on your sleeve

It’s not wrong to be incompatible
Just make sure you stay amiable

It’s not wrong to put yourself first
Just make sure you avoid the worst

---

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

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I Over Thought It

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 something’s ado.
‘Twas an attack that needs an unpack.
‘Twas an 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 from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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In The Predawn Light

In the predawn light
the birds take flight,
taking with them
the silence of the night.

The lone dog’s bark
heralds the end of dark,
as his fellows
take up the lark.

Then comes humanity.
A din of utter profanity.
Attempting to avoid
silence induced insanity.

Until shines the moon,
bringing its silent boon.
Causing man’s return
to sleep’s blessed lagoon.

Then the nightmares come.
A calamitous thrum,
highlighting the pain
of yesterday’s sum.

The night’s confidence shaken,
peaceful sleep mistaken.
Silence only exists
at night when we awaken.

In the predawn light
the birds take flight,
taking with them
the silence of the night.

---

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

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I’m Coming For You

It’s time I got my own
From a world that didn’t care
From a world that wasn’t home
Taken and laid bare
Taken before I had grown
My home turned into a lair
Used and left alone
But now I can share
But now I have grown
But now I will dare
To take back that loan
To make the ledgers fair

Perhaps you need a clue?
Because I still remember
Now I am coming for you
A new contender
If you only knew
That night in December
That door stepped through
Had me questioning my gender
Unsure of what was true
You took life’s splendor
Now its time for a coup
You consummate pretender
Your sins have come due
No, I won’t be tender
What I will do
Is become future’s defender

You are just a fucking mutt
Your crimes will be laid bare
Turned me into a slut
Were you so unaware?
Forced my mind shut
But I will now dare
A swift knife cut
Some pain to share
I’ll force your eyes shut
Into a death glare

I’m coming for you

---

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

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If You Get Too Close

If you get too close,
I’ll pull away.
If you talk too kindly,
I won’t stay.

If you push too hard,
I’ll say no.
If you stay too long,
I’ll just go.

If you try too hard,
I’ll soon leave.
If you enquire too personally,
I’ll simply deceive.

But,

If you pull away,
I’ll track you down.
If you don’t stay,
I’ll surely drown.

If you say no,
I won’t know what to do.
If you just go,
I’ll blame it all on you.

If you leave me,
you will soon see
If you deceive me,
I’ll simply plea.

Please,

That you return
and never go.
That I’ve changed,
don’t you know?

That I am
sincerely sorry.
That you don’t
need to worry.

That I am a
new man.
That I have a
mental health plan.

That I won’t
repeat the cycle.
That you are
my one true idol.

That it is your company
that I crave.
That I will worship you
to your grave.

---

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

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I Withdraw

I withdraw,
Please don’t take it personally,
It’s just what I do
To keep myself safe.

I want you to understand.

The world is too loud,
The world is too fast,
The world is too big,
The world is too confusing.

It overwhelms me.

The endless conversations,
The unclear demands,
The double sided statements,
And the hidden intentions.

I can’t comprehend it all.

The unstated norms,
The disparate customs,
The popular trends,
And the social conventions.

There is too much pressure.

So I withdraw,
Hiding inside of myself,
Seeking a place of solitude,
Somewhere divorced from reality.

I just need time.

To rest,
To heal,
To process,
And to learn

How to function in this world.

---

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 Took It For Granted

My body was broken,
before I realised it was my own.

I took it for granted,
while it was slowly being taken.

I used it without thought,
I used it without comprehension,
I used it without appreciation.

Now it’s just used.

I got old,
before I realised I was ageing.

I squandered what I had,
while worrying about what I would become.

I wasted my time,
I wasted my energy,
I wasted my opportunity.

Now I’m just wasted.

My life was over,
before I realised I was living it.

I ignored reality,
but reality kept a watch on me.

I spent my time,
I spent my money,
I spent my soul.

Now I’m just spent.

---

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 Am A Contradiction

I am a contradiction,
A social inadequacy.
Stifled rage.
Missed opportunities.
Goals unfulfilled.
Talent unrecognised,
Talent wasted.

I am a contradiction,
A falsifiable hypothesis.
All talk.
No action.
An echo chamber.
Hypocrisy recognised,
Hypocrisy shared.

I am a contradiction,
A functional mess.
Habit forming.
Constant apologies.
A shell of shame.
Surviving the past,
Surviving the day.

I am a contradiction,
A product of chance.
Lucky guesses taken.
Sage words heard.
A creature of my environment.
Adapting to conform,
Adapting to escape.

I am a contradiction,
A point of difference.
Memories informing.
Self-educating.
Future planning.
Breaking the cycle,
Breaking myself.

I am a contradiction,
A model of possibility.
Disciplined action.
Introverted contemplation.
A father.
Driven to change,
Driven to act.

I am a contradiction,
A self-appointed leader.
Lived experience.
Proven results.
Trending upwards.
Sharing my failures,
Sharing lessons learnt.

I am a contradiction,
A hypocrite with a voice.
Soul on display.
Hunting an ideal.
Coming up short.
Finding myself,
Finding my tribe.

---

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

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How Do I Explain This Feeling?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that comes unwilling,
The kind that divides my mind,
And puts my words into a bind?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that sends me reeling,
The kind that crushes my hope,
And leads me straight to dope?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that is not appealing,
The kind that drags on all night,
And makes my personalities fight?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that wants concealing,
The kind that highlights my shame,
And forces me to take the blame?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that reminds me of squealing,
The kind that is on repeat,
And reminds me of my defeat?

How do I explain this feeling?
The one that leaves me milling,
The kind that takes away my aim,
And leaves my full of pain?

How do I explain this feeling?

---

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.

Holy Herb

holy herb
smoking verb
words said
brains undead
verbal loop
lyrical soup
sounds dope
words rope
hang you
bang you
fucking harangue you
now three words
these bee words
killer sting words
from my insobriety
of natural variety
green leaf society
you’re invited
i’ve co-signed it
authorised it
legalised it
for your consumption
make no assumption
join the rambunction
take actions
form fractions
fight back
talk smack
to the authorities
for breaking minorities
for setting up monopolies
it’s all for profit see?
or a prophesy
all hypocrisy
so break free
and join me
for a session
a brain compression
a synonym lesson
from the brain thesaurus
word tyrannosaurus
sorry T-Rex
yes small text
make it simple
you mental cripple
tweak your nipple
but you like it
pacify it
deny it
crucify it
hide behind it
defend it
your delusions
internal confusions
brain washed pollutions
but there’s a way out
the organic blackout
just one toke
get woke
get distributed
get herbed
get bent
on my content
on my knowledge
so pay homage
to the rhyme designator
thought penetrator
neuronal stimulator
revolution instigator
so speak clearly
beat them physically
i mean violence
broken silence
no compliance
total defiance
to their bullshit
this the new shit
the make the news shit
just commit
to revolution
the anarchist solution

---

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.

God's Love

*** Trigger Warning ***

He told me I was special,
And gave me all the perks.
Held my hand through prayer,
And showed me how the system works.

He said it would be our little secret,
Kept between him, me, and God.
Told me that I was a good boy.
Summoned me with that little nod.

He taught me what was holy.
To trust in the divine word.
That my doubts were of the devil,
To not trust in the absurd.

He spoke of the afterlife,
Spewing words of eternal damnation.
The trials of earth trivial,
Compared to the day of revelation.

He showed me how a soft caress,
Can feel like the stab of a demon.
That he held all the power,
And that God’s love tastes like semen.

He demonstrated the church’s power,
By denying all my accusations.
How could a priest be sullied,
By a young boy’s fabrications?

He was eventually punished,
They moved him to a new town.
Gave him a new flock,
Other boy’s souls to drown.

He died as he lived,
Safe and admired,
Protected by his brethren,
A biblical patriarchy conspired.

He left me broken,
Mind, body, soul.
What he did destroyed my faith,
Leaving me not whole.

---

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

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When You Look Inside

When you look inside,
Where does your attention go?
An internal energy,
A power,
A flow.

When you observe the breath,
What do you now see?
A play of consciousness,
A freedom,
Serenity.

When you move the body,
What do you feel?
A sense of integrity,
A space,
An ideal.

---

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.

Stop Rushing

Stop rushing.
Take a break.
You are not lazy.
Trust that you will get it done.
You always do.

To perform optimally,
You need to rest.
You need to recover.
You need to heal.
You need to take a breath.

So do so.
Give yourself permission.
Pour the cup of tea.
Feel its warmth.
Taste its subtly.

The world will still be there.
Your work will be waiting for you.
Return to it with fresh eyes.
Embrace it with new energy.
Attack the day.

---

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

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The Fear of Imperfection

Atelophobia
The fear of imperfection.
The fear of not being good enough.

Crippling inaction.
Stuttered words.
No self-worth.

The fear of failure causing failure.
Not inability, talent or a lack of opportunity.

Just fear.
Just anxiety.
Just unattainable standards.

Standards put upon by myself.
Standards forced upon me by the world.

Others can fail.
Others can be imperfect.
Others can have fun.

Just stop.
Please don’t placate me.
I know ‘no one cares about that stuff’.
I know ‘we all make mistakes’.
I know ‘I’m only human’.

Reason doesn’t stop the thoughts.
By definition a phobia is illogical. 

My only solace comes from the diagnosis.
Knowing that I am not alone.
Perfectly imperfect, together.

---

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.

healing

sadness and joy
in the face of healing
with you
my love

---

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.