Friday, 30 September 2011

The Danger in Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a disease
which rots all hope of a future
by blinding you with the past.

You see the mustards as gold,
the sounds of the street as songs
and the puddles as oceans.

The bar has been set too high
and now all comparisons
will seem insubstantial and weak.

I am content with how I am
but there is a huge difference
with content and happiness.

Now that I've noticed the change
it is hard to ignore my thoughts
and how they miss what has been.

I wish I had amnesia
so I could forget how joy felt
and make a future irrelative.

Thursday, 29 September 2011

Black and White is Never Right

I used to think it’s best to live without regret
but now I regret ever thinking like this
because I’ll never be able to forget
how I forsook the chance of another kiss.

We’ve both grown up, but I won’t grow out of you
and even if I felt hate for a while
it was because I cared; and I still do,
it would kill me to never see your smile.

I am sorry for things that aren’t our faults
and I wish that it didn’t cause us pain
when we exchanged our verbal assaults
until neither of us had hope to remain.

Now I know the truth, and I no longer hate
but I know that it’s too late to go back
so I am left to lament our ill fate
and to lust over the things that I lack…

Wednesday, 28 September 2011


When I first got drawn my hand
I thought it too low a score
but I've come to understand
that I'll always wish for more.

When I got another card
I got closer to perfection
but my total was still marred;
I still desired correction.

So greedily I asked to twist
hoping this would be enough
but still the total was missed
and my game proved to be tough.

I asked again for one more
but this rendered my hand bust
and now without any score
I wish I didn't adjust.

Sure, you need a good amount
but you must know when to stop
or you'll end up with no count
and it will be too late to swap.

Open Door

I'm in a cage with its door wide open
and the cage is comfortable for me
so even though I've the chance to escape
I can't find the will for me to break free.

The steel bars feel so cold against my skin,
the floorspace is cramped and confined
but somehow I can't listen to reason
and leave this claustrophobic place behind.

I think it's a fear of the outside world,
that it might present an even worse scene
but I can't continue to be enclosed
when there are more beautiful sights to be seen.

So for the first time, I've found the strength to leave
and I'll walk through the discomfort I'll receive.

Friday, 23 September 2011


Chipping away at my skin of stone
I cannot seem to find a backbone
and all the carvings on the floor
don't resemble me anymore.

It all looks so fragile and cheap:
to think that's the state I once did keep
makes me crumble more in my shame,
disgusted by my hideous frame.

If I glued together pieces lost
I still wouldn't recover the cost
that comes from the initial loss,
lying on the floor gathering moss.

But better that waste be put to use,
so I tug at the pieces left loose
so that my whole frame collapses
to redesign without these lapses.

Sunday, 18 September 2011

Grand Gestures

I was going to give you the moon
but it is too cold for your hands to hold.
I was going to give you the sun
but it leaves too fast for the gift to last.
I was going to give you the skies
but it comes at cost when you may get lost.
I was going to give you the Earth
but it is too cursed from the wars it has nursed.
I was going to give you the stars
but they are all dead, and so instead
I can only give to you my heart
which will always be there to give you care.

Saturday, 17 September 2011


We force this poison into our bodies
then our bodies force the poison back out
so is it a natural routine
when I know I should be going without?

The social norm is the social decay
and sometime soon it will kill all your friends,
and society would push it away
should they know how their deadly habit ends.

And yet I still find myself joining in,
shaking the hand that grabs my throat and throttles
and I'm really thinking of giving in
picking up my favoured poison bottles.

If we all took our time to stop and think
how many of us would reject our drink?

Friday, 16 September 2011


The main component
of a good healing process
is accepting pain.

Thursday, 15 September 2011

A Shark's Grip

This morning, I opened my salt-stained curtains to a sea of black in the sky.
Rubbing the sleep from my startled eyes with scaly hands,
I had half a mind to close the rotting rags
and return to bed, where I could attempt to sleep out the storm.
But something compelled me to keep on swimming against the tide,
despite the constant barrage of sharp-peaked waves
 that were seeping through my open window,
which could slice me cleanly in half if the ice-cold air didn't shatter me first.
So with a sigh, I stepped outside into the harsh surroundings
which were beginning to engulf my chest and flood my lungs
which tightened with each breath that I took
as if the sea's fist was clamping at me like a vice.
I saw a struggling shark trapped within a maze of rocks
darting backwards and forwards into the jagged walls
but when I reached out my hand to lead her to safety
she snapped at me with her savage jaw.
Foolhardily, I was sure that I could save her
and that her selfish past could be redeemed
so my trembling hand reached through the crevice
into the terrifying blind unknown,
and at that moment I felt something clasp around my wrist
gripping on and tugging relentlessly
but when I opened my screwed up eyes I saw that it was her hand and not her teeth;
the storm has passed and it's clear blue as far as I can see.

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

The Boy who Fell in Love with the Moon

Did you hear about the boy
who fell in love with the moon?
He used to say that the night
could never arrive too soon.
He would wait at his window
in anticipation
to greet her with his shameless
adoring elation,
and she would soak it all in
reflecting the light he gave,
returning the compliments
and the caring that he craved
but her bright, round pleading eyes
couldn't continue to conceal
the truth about her own shine
and the way she really feels,
so she would wait behind the clouds
to try and avoid her fears
as he would wait hungrily,
howling out heartbroken tears.
When she finally returned
in symmetrical full sight,
the boy realised at last
she held someone else's light.
He lost his wolf-like hunger,
letting out a final roar,
he trudged back to the forest
to chase love's light no more.

Friday, 9 September 2011


I am a snake who has just shed his skin
and I'm staring at the pile in disgust.
Is that really the state that I have been in;
stained with self-doubt, sadness and stressful rust?

But mai pen rai, I am rid of it now
and I am happy with my current coat,
and before this freshened world I avow
to take each mouse that I catch by the throat.

For I know I've rid myself of dead weight
when I moulted old skin and slithered free
from everything about me that I hate
to everything that I would like to be.

And I just can't let this defeat me once more,
dead skin shouldn't drag me down to the floor.

Thursday, 8 September 2011


I've been making the ascent up these steps, towards the skyline high above.
The flags are cracked and with haphazardly sticking out,
like jagged teeth, hungrily waiting for me to fall into their eager jaws.
On either side of the staircase is a sheer drop
where crumbs of rock fall to their demise with each step that I take.
And the path behind me which I have taken is all crumbling away
approaching me at a pace just as quick as my feet can take me;
I cannot go back, I can't even rest.

But it's my fear of the fall which keeps me moving,
keeps me rising to the top
like life is about constantly proving
that I'm not ready for the drop,
then again is it worth reaching the summit
to reach some unknown height just as unstable
that sets you up for the plummet
just as you're beginning to feel able?
I can't afford to keep thinking like this
with the road I've taken shattering away
so I carry on convincing myself there's nothing amiss
up into the uninspiring clouds of grey.
It's got to be worth the battle
if so many try to climb this hill
unless we're all brain-dead cattle
and we're being lead in to get killed.

Fears aside, I cannot hide
when I can only take what is in front of me
so I shake away the warnings inside,
break to a stride
as fast as I can be.

I finally reach the peak,
weak and dizzy from the height
but I see the skies at the top are blue;
and I see you.
As I attempt to collapse into your arms
and embrace the comfort I have found
you whisper in my ear
"I never meant to cause you harm",
and push me back down to the ground.
I should have listened to my fear.

Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Winter Blues

The willow tree
weeps silently
at the leaves who leave for winter.

His arms out wide,
he’s teary-eyed
as his heart begins to splinter.

He’s all alone,
just skin and bone
oblivious to the birds who sing.

He does not know
there will be more
when it finally reaches spring.

Sealing the Silk

Here's another spider song,
and I'm tired of shying away in this dark place
but should I surface my presence is met with disgust.
I respond to attacks with venom
which makes even those I love recoil,
seeing me for the petrifying plague I can be.
But I won't crawl back
for even if I'm sick to death of this gloom,
I am used to being the outcast figure now;
and I think it suits me best.
Then again,
is success really worth misery?
If this web disintegrates
find solace that I'd seek absence over replacement
so I can let my silk function
this life is short

I've missed so many opportunities
to cut you loose
that it's becoming clear
what I really want.

Monday, 5 September 2011

A Fight in the Forest

The trees in the nighttime forest encircle me like a boxing ring
offering no escape,
with rusting ropes made of amber leaves
and thick trunked ringposts
which have seen so many battles like this
end in tragedy.
My opponent, the bitter cold wind, is pulling no punches
and is determined to defeat me.
I find myself up against the ropes
to the delight of the audience of wolves,
who watch on hungrily,
raucously howling for their gambles to pay off
at the expense of my life.

But as the back of my head collides with the adamantine cortex
I feel hope awaken inside me,
with everything against me but time on my side
I have nothing to lose.
So I let the cold slap me in the face every now and then,
making sure I wrap enough to endure it.
knowing that their offence will leave gaps in their defence,
and sure enough, picking my shots carefully,
things start to feel a bit warmer
and nothing they can throw deters me.

I know that I can outsmart the night with enough positivity
and with that thought in my head
I see the first orange glitters
emerge from between the branches at the peak of each corner,
the brightness suddenly shines down on the audience
highlighting that the wolves have disappeared
and the dew-filled grass is now rampant
with rabbits in a buoyant bounce
and flowers rising in rapid rush.
The sun is up;
and so the cold's time is up.

Synchronised Senses

Happiness is when senses merge
in harmonious sultry heights
when we must give in to the urge
for the flesh's naked delights.

I feel an everlasting rush
with the interlocking of limbs,
a sense so blissfully lush
at even the slightest of skims.

And when our contact hits a peak
I cannot control my lengthy sighs,
I feel so powerfully weak
as I collapse between your thighs.

But it isn't the act but the art
which gives me this happy feeling.
To know that it comes from the heart
is what is most appealing.

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Growing Pains

I haven't felt growing pains in so long,
and I wonder if that's what's preventing me
from standing tall.
To succeed you sometimes to need to take a hit
and to avoid discomfort is to avoid contentment...
I'll no longer shrink away.

Irresolute Resolutions

The pages on my calender
are rapidly receding.
Nothing's been happening
and moments have been fleeting.

I seem to be coasting through days
without a lot to recall,
lumbering through in a daze;
my laze will be my downfall.

But now my life is on the up
even if the days still fade
for I will now use my time
to act upon pledges made.

The year really does fly by fast...
I'm ready for a new one now,
which I'll waste just as quick
breaking another New Year's vow.

Fear of Fear

is the only barrier
that prevents
the inconceivable
becoming achievable.

I would say
that I wont let it
get the best of me again
but I'm scared
I'll break my word.

Saturday, 3 September 2011

Explosive Mind

There's a constant ticking inside my brain
like a bomb to go off in any minute;
I'm sure it means that I'm going insane
because I can't accept there's nothing in it.

And yet still I will tick against my will,
the sound drives everyone I love away
fearing my company might someday kill
and they have every right to be afraid.

For I'm scared too, I'm scared of my feelings
and what they might do to my unstable mind,
ignoring rationality's pleadings
is the unfortunate way I'm designed.

For now, I'll stick my fingers in my ears
in the hope that it will drown out my fears.

Curtains and Blankets

My curtains hung themselves in misery last night.
They could not take the dark anymore
knowing that they must part when things were looking brighter.

I hope that they'd find comfort
knowing that their parting brings me closer to the sky
which blankets us both under our eternally shared space.

The Spin of a Wheel

The wheel's been spinning so fast lately
and it's hard to figure which spindle suits best,
for all bring different angles,
all going the same way
but providing different viewpoints nonetheless.

I wonder how long this spinning will last
before it all winds down to a halt
or sends me into a dizzy crash,
and if I decided to take a back seat
would the gears still shift without a fault?

Repairing Jigsaws

If something's broken and can't be mended
we should put down our tools and walk away.
Things should be left as they are intended
when it is best to leave them to decay.

But pride insists to us "they must be fixed!",
and we are all slaves to our pride's demands.
When passion and practicality are mixed
we are left staring at our broken hands.

So next time that I find broken pieces
I'll put them in a box labelled "lost cause"
until all memory of them ceases
and they shatter to the sound of applause.

Who am I kidding? I'll still try in crazed care
like they're some jigsaw puzzle I can repair