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’.
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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’
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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’.
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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’.
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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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
Fever dreams
Liberate the mind
Boundless and edgeless
Thoughts flow
Skipping between
Ponds of reality
No longer constrained
By rationality
I drift
What once thirsted for stability
Now wants for nothing
But the pretty colours
That seem to hold
All meaning
Within this 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.
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.
