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Looking for validation online
Filling the time
Filling the void

Someone just liked my post
Fleeting happiness

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Another like, but not from someone I like

I’m offended
Comment
I’m offended
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I wonder what she’s doing?
Damn, she’s still happy with him

Food as art
Bodies as art
Life as art
How unattainable
I’m jealous

You have memories from seven years ago
Cringe

10 things you won’t believe
10 times they got it wrong
10 posts to distract you from your own existence

Screen time report
Usage up from last week

Porn
Porn
Porn
Shame
Close all open tabs
Delete the latest hour

Half formed thought
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OMG, a retweet!
Just a bot

Bad news
More bad news
Memes about the news
Memes about memes
Sharing memes

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---

Read another poem from Bound to the Wings of a Butterfly
Out now: eBook, paperback, hardcover and audio book.

Give It A Look

I’ve just released a new poetry book,
If you like my work, please give it a look.

It’s dark and edgy, full of adult themes,
It’s an exploration of reality, where nothing’s as it seems.

It’s a product of years of writing to heal,
If you’re a mental health buddy it will certainly appeal.

Also if you want some sharp social commentary,
Or if you’re looking for content that’s existentially scary.

Or if you want to see unique ways to twist a rhyme,
Or poetry so good it will seem like a crime.

Or an in-depth look at the depths of humanity,
Or joy, love, and dark depravity.

Or if you’re just looking for something new,
Then do I have the perfect idea for you.

Please considering giving my book a buy,
It’s called, ‘Bound to the Wings of a Butterfly’

Read it on paperback, hardcover, eBook or audio,
However you like, it’s ready to go!

---

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.

On The Brink

I’m on the brink,
I’m out of sync,
I need time to think.

To catch the link
Between the words I speak
To my shrink,
And my kink,
And the thoughts I drown in drink.

I’m gonna get some new ink,
A new vice in which to sink,
A new way to link,
A new way to rethink,
The chink in my personality stink
And my inability to stay in sync.

---

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.

Plague Rat

I am a plague rat
A covid cat
A diseased gnat

My lineage?

The OG bat
That went splat
In the mouth
Of some pratt

Or perhaps it was a lab
Concocted by a Chinese bureaucrat
Or an elite crooked hat
Or a corrupt diplomat
Or a Rockefeller kind of aristocrat
All as a part of some Illuminati format
To make the economy fall flat
Allowing the aliens to come take our habitat
While we chitchat in hazmat
Debating the origins of the fruit bat spat

Did I correctly read the online thermostat?
The stupidity of keyboard combat?
The multitudes of conspiracy tit for tat?

All I know is that I feel like chat
I gotta isolate with a seven day forced sabbat
With nothing new to look at
Other than Putin ignoring every Geneva caveat

Is he a Hitler copycat?
Will there be a successful coup d'etat?
Should I stockpile water and fat?

Truth is,
Worrying about would war three
is making my mind far more flat
than anything this disease brought to my doormat.

How about that?

---

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.

Atelophobia: The Fear Of Imperfection

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, ‘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.

Angry

i’m angry
at you
for not being
more
like me

---

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.

Adulting, Would Not Recommend

Adulting, would not recommend.
There’s just too damn much to comprehend.
Work, work, work, work, no time for my friend.
Now look at that, my life’s about to end.

I do not rate,
My current adult state,
Always running late,
Trying to put food on my plate.

Money, money, money, I never have enough.
Not for the rent, bills or any fun stuff.
There’s no wonder why we are all so gruff,
Yelling on the inter-webs, acting so tuff.

It’s just back pain,
And weight gain.

It’s rushing all day,
With no time to play.

It’s the not knowing,
Yet having to keep going.

It’s our parents’ lack of understanding,
Of what our world is actually demanding,
Of our real struggle to maintain our standing,
No chance to get ahead, no interest compounding.

Boomers think they know the score,
They’re just lucky to be born after the war.
A time of prosperity let their incomes soar,
Making them think there will always be more.

Criticising us with self-righteous impunity,
For squandering a ‘glorious opportunity’.
In a world of growing disunity,
How can they expect such immunity?

Thing is, we can’t fight back,
There is no true enemy to attack.

Just another generation protecting their own,
And yelling from the safety of their home.

Besides when would we have the time to fight?
The third job’s got us up all night.

Adulting, I would not recommend.
But please let’s no longer pretend,
That our problems are gonna magically mend,
By venting with an angry tweet send.

You could protest it on the street,
With the 99% speaking with their feet,
Or perhaps a BLM meet,
Yell, scream and hope to defeat.

But the problem is that they have the power,
They can wait a longer hour.
They can direct the tear gas shower,
With the riot police to make us cower.

Also did I mention, the world is warming?
There’s racist divisions and politicians performing.
Economic collapse from COVID’s storming,
And European war is transforming.

Too many problems to simultaneously comprehend,
Let alone act with any hope to end.
There’s no opportunity to transcend,
Only ways to further offend.

Adulting, would not recommend.

---

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.

A Flower

A flower blooms,
Its beauty unrecognised.
No depth, no feeling,
Only cold calculation, a knowing.

This is life without meaning,
Two-dimensional reality. Fact.

Who am I to deserve this?
Who am I not to?

The flower dies,
Its decay unrecognised.
Just another shade of grey,
Colouring this dull world.

---

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.

New & Fancy

Hey there, I’ve made something new and fancy
It’s a poetry collection that’s raw and antsy
It’s words on a page for the bold and chancy
It’s sure to satisfy even my sycophancy
It’s writing to heal; practical emotional necromancy
It will transform your mind into a field of pansy

It’s called ‘Bound to the wings of a butterfly’, why don’t you give it a glancy?

Validate Them

If you’ve an artist in your life,
be they poet, painter, dancer, or designer,
validate them.

Praise them without ambiguity.
Pre-emptively clarify confusing compliments.

Hug them after they show you their creations,
because it’s then that they are most vulnerable.

Having shared their soul,
they stand before you raw,
silently begging for acceptance,
desperately hoping that they’ve done enough.

---

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.

Ah Putin

Ah Putin,
ya shoulda done some more computing,
before ya sent your troops a shooting.

Perhaps then they wouldn’t be a looting,
dumping equipment and substituting,
their tanks for feet and food troubleshooting.

I guess it’s easy to be all highfalutin,
when you’ve the power to be executing.

Twisting narratives and truth diluting,
using your nation for prostituting,
with personal gains from war prosecuting.

All the while Ukraine’s recruiting,
in every way they are refuting;
your whims and wishes and parachuting,
your soldiers are dead or are a routing,
your economy’s destroyed there’s no refuting.

Ah Putin,
I wish your rule to be a muting.
That means your death, or at least a booting,
from tzar to the grave, a desirable transmuting,
the only way to get to a future worth rooting.

---

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.

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.
How much is enough? Always more.

A fickle dream that can never be reached.
Thus, you will never be satisfied.
Instead, you should embrace the process.

Let your actions speak for themselves.
Let the art take center 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.

The Barrier

Everyone is talking,
Yet I can’t comprehend a thing.
I hear the words. See their lips move.
It falls on deaf ears. It makes no sense.
I nod and smile hoping to get it right.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.

I hope that was correct, not that it matters.
I can’t empathise with their displeasure.
They all speak in fast-forward,
Gibberish and rhyme.
It’s hopeless. The entire message is lost on me.
From the gist, down to each subtle nuance.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.

There is a barrier between us.
An invisible wall,
Filtering and coercing the message.
Are you talking to me?
What are you trying to say?
I put on my mask and begin to act.
It’s working, they believe me!
I’ve almost convinced myself.
Then they ask a question.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.

I am perplexed at their every word.
There is no context, no reason, no flow.
They come to me for advice, seemingly
Wanting me to act and put on a show.
What are they asking?
Why would they ask me? How can I respond?
I try to understand.
I ask questions and give advice.
I hope this is what you are wanting.
I hope it’s what you need.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.

Suddenly they are yelling at me,
Upset and displeased.
I can’t remember what I have done, or why
I’m wrong. I just know I am.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

I see disappointment and shame in their eyes.
How can I fix this? How can I make it better?
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
Attempting to explain is useless,
A waste of time.

I can’t understand them, nor they me.
I beg and plead as best I can,
Praying that they give me another chance.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.
‘Yes sir’, ‘No sir’, ‘Three bags full sir’.

---

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.

The Precipice

I asked myself ‘Who am I?’
This is what came to me.
Then every moment of my life
Flashed before my eyes.
I was both watching it
And was the watching of it.
As I recognised each moment, it fell away.
Burnt into the fire of consciousness.
It was beautiful, terrifying, surreal.

---

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.

Trying

Here I am,
Trying once again.

Trying to create something beautiful,
Trying to glimpse eternity,
Trying to distil a moment.

Here I am,
Trying once again.

Trying to impress,
Trying to state my worth,
Trying to be something more.

Here I am,
Trying once again.

Trying to reconcile talent with torment,
Trying to balance fun with functionality,
Trying to see the ramifications of reality.

---

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.

Enraged

The world is too noisy,
It asks too much,
It never stops moving,
And it’s never got enough.

---

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.

Prognosis

I’m sorry to confirm,
You have a case of thought worm.

Soon they will infect your brain,
With reverberated pain.

They will burrow and squirm
And spread their sperm.

Then their spawn will begin to drain
And eventually you’ll be driven insane

You gotta hold firm,
Cause you’re in it for the long term.

I say it again,
In vigilance you must remain.

Still, you’re gonna end up infirm,
Cause you’re infected by a thought worm.

---

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.

Lickety-Split

I wanna quit
I’m just not with it
Feeling like shit
Feeling like a misfit
An unfit and unlit hypocrite
In need of a refit

No longer with the energy to commit
Unable to continue sharing my wit
Unable to continue to submit
Unable to fulfil his holy writ

A social counterfeit
A fool with his brain split
Someone who’s no longer legit

Some kinda halfwit
Rolling without a permit
In need of a babysit

I’m unfit
An empty tool kit
A horse without its bit
A victim that’s gaslit
A plane without a cockpit
A radio with nothing to transmit

Guilt that’s impossible to acquit
Pain that I can no longer omit

Not without a wrist slit

Not without a friend to get close-knit
Someone that allows me to admit
All of my turmoil and bullshit
Someone with the necessary grit
To make the darkness sunlit
Someone that won’t just split
The moment I fall into a pit

If that’s you, please send help, lickety-split

---

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.

Why?

Why does it feel like I’m all alone?
Like my house isn’t my home,
Like I’m running from the unknown?

Why does it feel like it shouldn’t be this way?
Like my nerves are on display,
Like I’m living as prey?

Why does it feel like my mind’s full of trash?
Like my intentions are ash,
Like I’m hoarding my father’s stash?

Why does it feel like I’m under attack?
Like my actions lack,
Like I’m waiting for a smack?

Why does it feel like it will never end?
Like my words offend,
Like I’m expected to pretend?

Why does it feel like everyone is lying?
Like my dreams are dying,
Like I’m only supported when crying?

Why does it feel like these words aren’t enough?
Like my life isn’t so rough,
Like I’m creating demons from fluff?

Why does it feel like I’m a total fraud?
Like my soul just wants you to applaud,
Like I’m fundamentally flawed?

---

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.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow,
The time to get everything done.

Tomorrow,
A time that never comes.

Tomorrow,
When things will be better.

Tomorrow,
When new problems arise.

Tomorrow,
A hope for a change.

Tomorrow,
More of the same.

Tomorrow,
A new beginning.

Tomorrow,
Just another day.

---

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.