Slowly
Gently
I realise
I am falling
Into the abyss
That I created
Why can’t you hear my silent screaming?
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.
We live
In a system
Of inequality
So utterly brainwashed
Into believing our failures
Stem from inability
To operate within the system
Not the system itself
But what choice do we have?
Who are we
To question
The very system
That raised us?
That fed us?
That educated us?
How can we possibly
Step outside
The paradigm
Of our reality?
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.
It feels like
I’ve been preparing
My entire life
For a moment that will never come
My body is tense
My mind is sharp
Yet I have nothing to do
With such focus
There is no enemy to fight
No emergency to survive
No monumental struggle to overcome
Nothing other than this day
And the next and the one after that
What glory is there to be found
In the daily grind?
How can I be proud of defeating
The mere anxiety of surviving the moment?
. . .
I crave catastrophe
And ache for the apocalypse
Not as a nihilist
But as a person without purpose
There’s little joy to be found in a job
Creating just to consume
Producing just to procreate
Done daily until death
I am a man without meaning
Readying myself for revelation
When survival isn’t assured life is serious
The useless artefacts will fall away
What actually matters will materialise
Focus will be forced towards functionality
Distracting decadences will be discarded
Leaving nothing but the struggle of life
Perhaps then I’ll find real purpose
Maybe existence will feel equanimous
. . .
How privileged
Am I
To lament
The ease of my life
I am blessed
To have never seen war
Or suffering
I am blessed
Yet that blessing
Feels like a curse of meaning
Without an enemy to fight
Without an obstacle to overcome
All this feels dulled
Life feels like a shadow
A mockery of everything I was promised
Thus I create my own demons
Faceless oppressors
That cannot be seen
Or overcome
Then I cry about my problems
Like they actually exist
Writing angsty poems
From a place of privilege
. . .
As a child
I learnt
Vigilance
To survive
I slept light
A knife under my pillow
Waiting for an attack
That attack never came
But I still sleep light
And have made my body into a weapon
I am still vigilant
Waiting for the attack
That will never come
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.
My shame
At having you
As my father
Has become
Anger
Directed towards myself
For failing my children
In the same ways
You failed 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 know you care
And that you’ll always be there
But our intimacy?
It’s threadbare
Our bodies are no longer aware of the softness we would once share
It’s unfair
That the first thing to go was caress of one another’s hair
And the impromptu hugs that came from anywhere
No one is to blame
We just became distracted by stress’s snare
And focused on our children’s welfare
I know it’s wrong to compare
But I know we both miss the fanfare
The tender words that would soothe any nightmare
The love we would declare
And the time we would spare
So please
Take my hands
Let’s pledge to repair
To once again become a pair
To take time together no matter where
And no matter what events snare
Let’s swear
To take time daily and simply stare
Into each other’s eyes
Into each others hearts
To see each other bare
Let’s choose to share the same air
To take those gestures now rare
And gift them everywhere
To help each other up the stairs
To listen to the despair
To sit together in prayer
To love
And to be aware
Does that sound fair?
This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
I wonder if
On the day I finally
‘Make it’
I will regret
The sacrifices
It took
To get there
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.
Step outside
The confines
Of your mind
And realise
That perception
Cannot be defined
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.
let’s go on an excursion
exploring pathology and perversion
where promises conflict with perception
and pleasure is found in aversion
where a moment can stretch into an eon
and an lifetime can vanish into confusion
where attention can dispel the illusion
and uncover the collective delusion
of a world desperate for absolution
yet unable or willing to find a solution
one where corruption and corporate collusion
trump harmony and empathetic inclusion
and the blind acceptance of institution
enables the systematic prosecution
of most every creature of evolution
distracted from their inevitable revolution
by the promise of a shiny substitution
via advertisements of unsustainable consumption
coupled with subliminal thought intrusion
money exchanged for species execution
accept the norm and practice blame diffusion
only to pray as final resolution
desperately hoping to avoid karmic retribution
Watch this poem on YouTube
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 fear death
But
I fear dying
Having never lived
A day
Without fear
More
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.
Every morning
I rise with the sun
Watching with awe
The soft vibrancy
Of cloud and colour
Each sunrise uniquely its own
Yet so similar
That its subtlety
Is often lost
A simulacrum of thought
Overlayed upon reality
Obscuring the beauty
Of the moment
How much of life
Have I lost
In this way?
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.
Your body
So eagerly given
Lost its allure
Yet in your absence
I find myself
Wanting
What once bored me
Familiarity bred contempt
Now distance is breeding desire
Why
Didn’t I fight
For us?
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’m fine …
Actually, I'm really struggling.
I feel anxious and depressed.
My head hurts.
I'm so tired.
I can't hold down a job.
It feels like my life is slowly falling apart.
I'm not lazy, I am sick.
I know I look normal.
No, I can't prove this to you.
My illness is invisible.
Yes, I have good days,
No that does not mean that I'm faking the bad ones.
I'm not looking for attention.
I'm still learning my limitations.
I see the glances, hear the comments and feel shamed.
I didn’t ask for this and I don’t deserve this.
Yet here I am, and I am certainly not
‘Fine’.
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.
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 burry me
And perhaps this seed
Will grow
Into a weed.
Watch this poem on YouTube
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.
Black crows gather
On the field
Of failure
Iron rusts
On the field
Of failure
Blood stains the grass
On the field
Of failure
Orphans are made
On the field
Of failure
Nothing changes
On the field
Of failure
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 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.
Rate me,
Review me,
Like me,
Sub me,
Share me,
View me,
And make sure to come back to me.
Or else,
The algorithms will see through me.
They won’t show me
They won’t grow me
And thus,
No one will know me.
So,
If you like me,
And want to encourage me,
And see more of me,
Do this one small thing for me.
Rate me,
Review me,
Like me,
Sub me,
Share me,
View me,
And make sure to come back to 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 am
The intersection
Between your nightmares
And fantasies
Punishing you
With the pleasure
You thought you wanted
Pleasing you
With the pains
You never imagined
I am
Too much
Of a good thing
And
Not enough of a bad
Excessive desires
Fulfilled
Scant nourishments
Withheld
Far too much
Of what you want
Not nearly enough
Of what you need
An attractive horror show
Filled
With the bastard children
Of
Ecstasy and terror
This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
I’m so neurotic
That I attempt
To dissect
Said neurosis
In real time
If you
Find me
Staring into the abyss
Chances are
I’m stuck in a loop
Debating
Against myself
Attempting to ascertain
The best way to relax
Knowing that
Undertaking that very attempt
Is itself not helpful
Yet I’m nonetheless
Unable to stop
Not until
I know
I have exhausted all possibilities
Of contemplation
And in the process
Exhausted myself
Enough
So that I can sleep
Long enough
To do it all again
Tomorrow
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.
Not yet dead
The demon
Writhes
On the page
Lacerated
By the light of attention
It stares
Horrified
As it’s lifeblood
Becomes the ink
Of its own
Eulogy
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 am just an ant
On a rock
Spinning in the abyss
Trudging through
Yet another day
Doing work
I can’t comprehend
At the whim
Of a queen
I’ll never meet
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.
