Sunday, 31 July 2011


Why does a tear feel so warm
as it runs down a man's cheek
when it's so cold to endure;
to feel so hopeless and weak?

And why does that then start a leak
which turns into a torrent of tears
that make the world seem so dark,
turning our hopes into our fears?

Why, when the sobbing disappears,
do we feel the lump in our chest
that drags up sorrows that have passed
and makes us feel even more depressed?

Why do I feel so undressed
when you see that tear in my eye?
Why do we think it's such a shame
when everyone of us will die;
and we will all cry.
We will all die.

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Waking In Sweat

Not another of these
godawful dreams
everything seems real
and I wake
in a worried sweat,
naked and wet.
Why do I even bother
when, upon reflection
the things that worry
me the most
are things
which are
impossible at best.
My mind is mangled
in nightmare,
but even more twisted
is the reality of my realisation
that it is not sleep
but me
who is the causer of this darkness.

Paper Thin

Chinese whispers through walls of glass,
the world hears everything you say,
but take words with a pinch of salt
for words could be taken the wrong way.

But still the walls will conversate,
natter like old folk on the bus,
and they wont think of what happens
when whispers are taken in trust.

So before you open your mouth
consider plastering your walls
to keep out the wind's cold lies
that could one day be your downfall.

Life in a Tin Can

We are all fish caught in a net
and the surrounding seas taunt.
Although our appetites are whet
the hunger of reality haunts.

We are all flies caught in a web
and the surrounding air teases.
Our youthful optimism ebbs
as we find our movement freezes.

We are all men caught on this Earth
and the surrounding planets laugh.
                                                       We have been cursed since birth;
it's too late to change our path.

Resolution of Lunacy

Back home,
back in bed,
just two hours til I start again.
                                                                    Some can't hack it,
but I say sack it,
this separates the boys from men.

Thursday, 21 July 2011

Central Heating

Walking down the street,
some days I want to smile at everyone I meet,
other days I want to scowl and spit at their feet,
but I've learned to keep my mood controlled.

Now I try my best to grin
at whatever situation my head is in
and don't let the outward signs of disaffection win
for I'm genuinely becoming content with this happy mould.

Lately, the grin is less strained.
Lately, I haven't been feeling so bitter and drained.
Lately, it's been harder to keep my happiness contained.
Lately, there has been a warmth in my heart to oust the cold.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011


Everything and everyone around us is slowly decaying.
The world is a volatile place, and what is beautiful now
may be destroyed tomorrow.
I see the same beauty on your face,
but that radiance won't always be staying.
I feel such helpless sorrow
to know that everything is so flimsy and frail,
the woven concrete on which we stand is fraying
and when the stitching has been completely undone,
when Hell is unleashed upon the surface
we will be walking upon the Sun
and we will all fail.
No love, no song, no grief can save us.
We are all of us alone,
united only in our ill fate.
These stitches cannot be resewn,
it is too late.

Cinematic Silence

Stirring from a dream, I headed downstairs.
I saw a light in the corner of my eye.
I turned to see it was a video
of my life passing by in double time.
I saw loved ones drop away one by one
like some skittles in a bowling alley
but all the while my character watched on
knowing he couldn't yet go down that valley.
It hurt all the more to feel that close
than it would to feel an absence of care,
for knowing how it is to love and be loved
makes the heart crave for love to be there.
Just as I wept, the film suddenly stopped,
the tape all tangled and knotted inside.
My motion picture yet to reach climax,
I wondered if my character had died.
I flicked off the screen that was showing static
and instead drowned in the silence's drone.
When I finally returned to my bed
I realised that I was all alone.

Mass Gathering

Gather around the table
and soak in the dense silence
until each sound is refined
with frightening precision.
Let us sit til the light dims
and the candle's flicker's lost
to the wax painted mahogany
which in turn, is devoured
by the day-to-night transition.
This is our quality time
sharing each other's company
(and that of shady strangers).
A sudden scare
in hasty blur;
a sudden sound,
a rowdy blare.
Was that chair
always there
or did it come
from thin air?
We sit and stare
until we stir
from this nightmare.

Monday, 18 July 2011

Permanent Residency

Familiarity founds comfort
and in equal measure complacency,
those friendly faces could be forced and feigned
but just as likely full of affection.
If we were to step out of our comforts
and find somewhere with fresh faces to read
the fusion of false and faithful would still
be there, and just as hard to distinguish.
So instead of running from what you know
or blindly sticking to the tried and tested
accept that we are all slight variations
and good and bad comes in equal measures,
and if you feel you belong anywhere,
be that a place or within someones heart,
that is when you have truly found your home;
that is when you no longer need to roam.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

Throwing Out the Trash

If I wrote down all of my untold sins
on a handful of unused white napkins
would you want to wipe your hands of me
or would you throw away what's history?
If you saw something shameful in the bin
would you route around to find what has been
or would you leave it alone in the trash
where it's free to rot away with the past?
You see, sometimes we look away from waste
because its stench would leave such a bad taste
and whilst it had stunk you discarded the junk
allowing mistakes to become misplaced.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Love is Barberism

When we cut our hair it does not cause pain,
after a short spell the hair will grow back
but cut off a limb, forever a tear,
and forever the sore will hurt like hell.

They say the basis is hair has no nerves
and because of this it cannot feel
and so just like most of life’s cases
to be emotionally detached is bliss.

I wish that my heart was just like my hair;
that it could not feel and had room to grow
and should the love of someone depart
they could respawn in my chest, just as real.

Noone would ever mourn the death of hair
so to grow, I will lose my nerve to care.

Forebearers of the Forecast

Clouds go into a battle arrangement
against the strong but predictable sun.
A legion of rebels in estrangement
from the unforgiving empire of one.

Civilians are caught in the crossfire
mostly indifferent to the heavy reign
Having to choose between ice and fire
guarantees a future of fear and pain.

So people do that for which they are known
and align themselves with the greater power,
not concerned with thinking on their own
as long as they live to see the next hour.

People are as fickle as the climates;
we are still the same ape-eat-ape primates.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Sun, Rain, Mist

I swallowed your essence
in a cloud of white haze
and now our coalescence
will last out the dark days
but I find myself choking
on this sudden shift of soul,
one half of me is smoking
the other to a black hole.

Change can be a welcome cloud,
rain can clear away dust
but it can also enshroud
and turn solid thoughts to rust.
I see I have been raining;
I don't know if it's wanted
when the change is so draining
the morning sun becomes daunted.


There's a constant hum in my ears
as every second passes by,
passing into passing years,
constant concern from passers by.
The busy bustle of the street
sends my mind in disarray,
my footsteps have lost their beat,
the spring in my step has gone away.
If this silence would just muzzle
I might be able to find poise
but every step is a puzzle
in this buzzing wall of noise.
So I do what I do best
and shut the world out of my head
until the deafening drone's suppressed
and I can see the road ahead.

Tuesday, 12 July 2011


They say that all women are from Venus
and men are from Mars
but I've been feeling like everyone else
are from different stars.
Both women and men are essentially
aliens the same,
all just different coloured opposing pawns
on their life's chess game.
But me, I am not one for these tactics
all so tired and tried
because you cannot crown a winner when
all your fight has died.
I have no desire to invade your worlds
nor move your pieces
I'll passively watch your internal wars
until your childhood ceases
and then I'll ask if you've learned your lesson
of the world and your words
and if you understand you won't be trying
so hard to be heard.
You're not a victim of brutality
so don't act abused
when there are much worse crimes in the world than
the rants that you've used.

Monday, 11 July 2011

No Relief

Daylight creeps up on us
like an eagerly anticipated break
but before we can truly embrace it,
nights dark creeps up on us
like a heavily dreaded slog.

The day not only offers
the prospects of a fresh slate
to tackle lazily, but also closure
to the scribbles of the night
which seem hurried and hideous.

The night not only offers
closure to my idle bliss
but also a fresh slate
for me to put my dirty prints on
in the blind of the dark.

Daylight creeps up on us
like an eagerly anticipated break
but before we can truly embrace it,
nights dark creeps up on us
like a heavily dreaded slog.


They say you become
what you study in depth, so
how's it to be me?

Small Talk

The menial points
I want to say
seem paramount to me,
but my mind disjoints
after just a day
and I forget they be.

Wednesday, 6 July 2011


There’s a rot in that wooden smile of yours,
I can see through the crack in the white boards
and no matter how much paint you plaster
the dark decay will only grow faster.

The rats crawl through your cavernous mouth
between your wilted teeth into the shade
gnawing at the damage, they head further south
til your hallway throat’s completely decayed.

If you had nurtured and maintained from the start
then you’d not have got in this sorry state
but now that the perish has gripped your heart
any endeavour made would be too late.

So now there’s nothing else for you to do
other than sit in a stagnating rue.

Muzzy Drizzle

I need focus, I require direction.
These contradicting tugs leave me tearing
'til both sides are subjects of disaffection
as I go from dithering to not caring.

My life blindfolds me then spins me around
when I'm forced to start a confused stagger
guided only by clarity of sound,
each raindrop is heard as sharp as a dagger

If I could prick up my needed ears
and use all I've heard to guide my path
I wouldn't be distracted by my fears
and I'd reach my desired goal at last.

But that all depends on the falling rain.
Without a drip my hopes drop and they wain.

Monday, 4 July 2011


I need a break from inactivity
because this life of luxury
makes hiccups feel like heartattacks
and I end up resenting any hardship I encounter,
when I know that I have it so much better
than so many people in the world.
I think if I got out into the bustle of life
and got wrapped up in some turmoil
it might keep me busy enough to distract
my mind from the numbness that currently plagues.

I'm dying for a tragedy to put me into perspective.

Saturday, 2 July 2011


For each head that I slash
off my adversary
it grows another three
each uglier than the last.

I feel I cannot defeat
the demons in my head
so I run away instead
into a shameful retreat.

The rapid regrowth strains
but this is achievable
with effort unbelievable
the opposition's strength wains.

My ever growing to-do list
is a Sisyphean task
so they only thing I ask
is that nothing is missed.