Let Me In

Let us begin.

Our goal is to
Discover the linchpin
The block, that once removed,
Will enable you to win.

We must delve deep within
And not shy away from sin.
We must coax out your grin
Then pull-in an alternate spin.
We must find a stand-in
For the thoughts that cause tailspin.

New thinking patterns
To underpin.
New psychological armour installed;
A thick skin.

Our sessions will won’t be easy,
Memories will cause chagrin.
But they will pass and you’ll be set free,
No longer needing to live as a shut-in.

With my help your mind will be sharp,
A vault secured from break in.

With my help your moods will change,
Your mind a heavenly akin.

With my help your resilience will rise,
Enabling you to take it on the chin.

No longer needing copious amounts of gin.
No longer lamenting a body not thin.
No longer hostage to the trauma din.

Just a new acceptance of your reality,
One with safeguards built-in.

All you need to do
To begin,
Is say yes and
Let me in.

---

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.

Just A Fiction

My entire sense of self
Is supplanted
By that one undefinable feeling
Of a nothingness with substance

A heavy emptiness
Filled
With a choking void

The screaming silence
Of a statue
Suffocating under glass

Even in the moment
When his hand
Struck my face
It didn’t feel real

Even in the moment
When she exposed herself
And approached me
It didn’t feel real

Nothing has ever felt real
Except the feeling of unreality

My entire life
Feels like a play
Just words in a book
Only real
When it’s read
And then quickly forgotten
The trauma downplayed
Because we both know
it’s just a fiction
Created for your entertainment

---

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.

i step off my mind

i take
a breath

a queer emptiness
descends

the desire
to speak
dissipates

the unseen unknown
returns
to focus

i step off
my mind

adrift
in the play
of consciousness

---

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.

I Fear Your Apology

What would you like from me?
What would you like to see?

Perhaps the perfect child for me to be?
Or perfection for me to embody?
Or for me to be on my knees and plea?
Or perhaps a sign of glee for every statement you decree?

If I were older,
I would flee.

I long to be carefree. Instead I’m stuck, as a perpetual draftee, with the esprit, of one who can foresee with accuracy how the future will play out under your marquee.

I fear your anger spree.
I fear your birch tree.
I fear your apology.

I fear your beastly personality, screaming ‘let me’, while spittle oozes down your goatee.

So,
with everything you warrantee,
this little pee wee is forced to agree.
Forced to embody the inner nobody,
mute the enquiry,
deny the depths of reality,
and become your humble devotee.

Here,
I made you some tea. Just as you like it, with the perfect amount of honey.

Would you like anything else from 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.

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.

Here Lies My Head

There’s something wrong with my head,
Chaos overwhelms when I pull the thread.
Nothing’s real and my rationality’s fled.
When I turn inwards and face the dread.
Mental landmines impact my tread,
Realisations growing like bacteria bred.
Answers to questions best left unsaid.
Like how come what happened in that bed,
Is less confronting than what was said?
Or why you were all silent whenever I plead,
Whenever I withdrew, and whenever I bled?
Or who would I be were I not shred?
Dead or alive, it all feels the same,
My vision clouded red.
Fed lies and shamed, misled and blamed.
Instead of love I was led into fear.
Crossbred reality with fiction, with you the godhead.
My anger disparaged, an outburst unread, just a hothead,
Stoking the fire of my heart, molten lead.
Left me burning, a stomach warhead.
Left me confused, with no cred
‘Ability to explain my pain, or why I spread
Myself around for anyone’s gain, or why I wish for anything else instead.

It’s time for a re-tread. To face the dread of the bed and what was said. To destroy the godhead, to pull the thread, to get out of my head, to retract the mislead, to remove the lead, to heal where I bled, to put onto the page all that’s unread, and to forgive the boy who couldn’t have fled.

Here lies my head.

---

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.

He Accepts

He accepts the world as it is
Never asking for much
beyond a smile and a hug.

Unruffled by change,
Volume, voice, or visage.
He embraces you for who you are.

Happiness is never far from him.
Small accomplishments
yield disproportionate joy.

Just a look will change his entire world,
And in doing so cause
His unfiltered response to change yours.

---

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.

Forever Cursed To Sing

Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?

My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away

The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn

Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn

I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake

Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break 

The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing

Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing

Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears

Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears

The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit

Smouldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit

---

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.

For As Long As I Have Eyes

I dream of flowing lines,
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas,
Dripped into life,
Pulled forth from my mind,
The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment
Captured for eternity,
Or at least for as long as I have eyes
To see what I’ve made.

But that vision
Is a just as much of a lie
As these words upon a page.
For they never were written,
Merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogy problem.

I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds,
None his own,
None his hone,
None he wants to return to,
None he wants to live through.

I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance.
A way to persist.
A way to function.

But to what end?

The answer comes
Calling out,
‘Daddy let me show you something!’

---

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.

Fleeting

Eyes meet
A fleeting moment
Futures fractal
Possibilities endless

Turn away
A moment passes
Fading memories
What can never be

---

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.

Chaotic Beauty

A chaotic beauty,
A trusting soul,
Mother’s love for all.

She’s seen things,
And survived worse,
Feeling it all.

A chaotic passion,
A new goal,
Abundance for her soul.

She’s taking action,
Making her mark,
Becoming her all.

---

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.

blessed with life's baggage

contemplating suicide
is a luxury
i can no longer afford

i am blessed
with life’s baggage
weighed down by love

spurred
by the desire
to prove them wrong

cajoled into action
my inner voice
softly screaming

to be more
than a footnote
of failure

to act
in-spite of doubt
and fear of judgement

to resolve
to do everything
to ensure my legacy

when I die
i will die
having truly lived

---

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.

autumn leaves

the earth sighs
autumn leaves
beautiful in death
fall discarded
left to decay
until the earth
takes another breath

---

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.

An Apology To The Future

As elders
We suffer
The pain
Of our pasts

Niggles become nuisance
Ignorance becomes issue
Beauty becomes blemish

Choices
Made long ago
Become the chains of our present

Back then
I was free
To take any path
Oblivious of consequence

Now
Having walked those paths
Those consequences
Force me to keep walking

An adult
Bound
By the decisions
Of a child

I am
Who I am
Only because
I was
Who I was

Will future me
Resent these words?

Or will I look back
As I do now
With compassion
Knowing I did my best
With what I had?

All I can offer is
An apology
To the future

I am sorry
For the pain
My choices
Will bring you

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.

A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

---

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.

a waterfall shaping rock

thoughts
relentless
a waterfall shaping rock

each drop
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

time
forms ruts
inescapable

consciousness
relentless
a river scarring land

each choice
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

thinking patterns
guiding future
flow

---

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.

A Page To Listen

My poems are tragic,
So that my life isn’t.

I write to release
the demons
I invented
To protect myself.

When I had nothing else,
I had a pen to speak,
And a page to listen.

---

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.

A Moment Fragmented

A moment fragmented
Against a lifetime
Of similar moments

A life shattered
Well before it’s time

Those moments
Replayed, rewound, and reworked

Those moments reconstructed
Into a tolerable shadow

Forever following
Forever protecting
Forever warning

Forever recalling
Those moments
Where life was fragmented

Forever forestalling
Advancement and growth

Forever focusing
Upon the past
And everything it implies
About the future

Another moment
Another fragmentation
Another destruction
Another shadow
Another protection
Another warning
Another follower

Just more weight
To carry into the future
Just more weight
To hold me in place
Just more weight
To remember

Just more
Just another

Just me
Reliving a moment

All those moments
Again

---

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.