Monday, 28 November 2011

Energy Saver

My heart is an energy saving bulb
which initiates as a small dim light,
radiating progressively hotter
until it's passionately burning bright.

But the transition is far too hasty
and the energy still seems to keep.
It still glows softly when I turn it off,
just enough to distract me from sleep.

I plan to replace my bulb with a candle
which can be blown out if feelings flicker
and my wax can melt into your soft skin
gaining and losing its light much quicker.

I hate how my light loiters and lingers
when the switch is servant to my fingers.

Hearts that Hanker for Hankering

I've been too concerned in making others smile
without any regards for myself.
The gratification is there for a while
but it's detrimental to my long term health.

Because sometimes a smile can soon sour
and I can't stand to see a saddened face.
Whilst I try everything in my power,
it's hard to put your smile in its rightful place.

If I paid more attention to my mouth
I'd notice mine's in more need of turning
with the tear-soaked corners pointed south,
trembling in some fruitless yearning.

I forced a smile when your sadness receded...
I don't want to be loved, just to be needed.


Close, but no cigar...
another year down the drain
with nothing to show.


The seasoned old fool
has enough wisdom to know
he will never learn.

Sunday, 27 November 2011


I've been getting high off fumes from your hairspray
when your head rests upon my collarbone.
I can feel my sleep skull start to sway
whilst my thoughts turn to when we're all alone.

I've tried washing your hair before we sleep
and every strand still stands in perfect place,
so if it's not products making the form keep
then why does my heart continue to race?

I blame my giddy head on the gases
because I am scared about how I feel
but when the lingering scent passes
I'm left holding on to something very real.

I've become lost in a firm holding mist
and the crown of your head just screams to be kissed.

Friday, 25 November 2011

The Road of Rewards

I would rather blunder over boulders
and trudge through the roots and the mud puddles.
I would rather bear this weight on my shoulders
than take a journey without these troubles.

Because when I pull through all of these trials
I feel like I've actually got somewhere
and I would endure all the worthwhile miles
for the accomplishment when I get there.

Too many people choose the easy routes
without building themselves along the way.
If you come out with a clean pair of boots
then it has been a waste of a day.

So I will always take the hardest road
and be grateful for all that I'm bestowed.

21st Century Ignorance

"I don't mean to be rude"
but the slights you make
have no basis in moral reasoning
but only in misguided hatred
and as much as you deny it
the generalisations used
are specific and targeted.
You disgust me more
than the so called evils
that you denounce
and I feel that I have more in common
with these subcultures I don't belong in
than any person who persecutes them;
afterall we are all humans.

Thursday, 24 November 2011


Since you pulled the plug I've been feeling drained
and am slowly slumping to my own slaughter.
I know that letting me sink is more humane
because I am just dirty water.

If someone rinsed themselves within my hold
they would emerge even more bespattered,
everyone stays until the water's cold
pretending the first wash never mattered.

I guess it's all about timing your clean
and to leave before you wrinkle and web.
Once your eyes start to lose that fresh gleam
you know the feeling to begin to ebb.

I won't be dramatic and refuse to cleanse
but I'll be more careful choosing my friends.

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Bare Branches

I look out to see the branches are bare
but I don't remember seeing leaves fall.
It seems we go from having it all there
seamlessly to having nothing at all.

It makes me wonder just when did they leave
and where have the vibrant times gone?
Has the sun merely had a small reprieve
or has the light permenantly moved on?

I know that there will be new leaves to grow
but there's a cold winter to endure first,
and if the branches can shake off the snow
then I can cope with old leaves being dispersed.

We've suffered the season's sudden refresh
but we can look forward to starting afresh.

Friday, 18 November 2011

Go the Long Way/Go the Wrong Way

The problem in taking a shortcut
is that your knowledge of the shortened journey
results in your embarking later,
which in turn gets you to your destination
at the same time as another route would have gotten you.
You walk swiftly, head down with your eyes
staring down at your feet
powering like pistons.

The problem in satellite navigation and maps
is that you rely to heavily on someone else's knowledge
and lose your sense of direction,
your sense of independence,
and your sense of adventure.
You walk swiftly, head down with your eyes
staring down at your directions
whispering like Satan into your ear.

Go the long way,
go the wrong way;
there's a beauty in getting lost.
You'd get more out of your day
encountering some of the world
you would never have crossed.
So next time I pace
I will slow my pace
and soak in the view.
There is no more beautiful place
than this hectic world
which is scarcely given the credit overdue.

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Finding How to be Lost

For months I’ve been sat under a tree
which has offered no shelter from the rain
and only in the dark I start to see
that nothing is forcing me to remain.

So I’ve started to get deeper in the woods
where the branches cradle me like their child
and the leaves encase me like evergreen hoods,
comfortably free to roam in the wild.

And now that I have discovered more timber
I have found myself in becoming lost,
and as my mindset begins to limber
I have forced myself out of the cold frost.

I hope I can stay here deep in the wild
where I can have the worries of a child.

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Infer No Harm

Matchbox mattresses will not keep you warm
unless you are able to find a spark.
I led there dripping like candle wax
in an attempt to glow despite the dark.

My wicker legs cannot take all the strain
that’s been placed on them throughout the days.
They are waiting desperately to buckle
and burn out in a final blaze.

But my aching muscles cannot be lit,
my lighter has been emptied of its gas.
And my matchbox is empty every night
so I need to wait for the pain to pass.

Someday I may well find myself a match
and my highly flammable heart may catch.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Justifications for Obligations

Loving is egotistical,
the way we crave admiration
and affections from another.
Do we seek to better their lives
or merely to gain confidence
with the application of lovers?
Either way, it is a futile art
That inevitably ends
by burial or cremation.
All I need is my own approval,
afterall, I can rely on
my self-gratification.

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Fake Account

This persona that you have created
that you like to wear behind the screen
embodies everything you would have hated
should it be something your real self had seen.

Behind the keyboard you become cruel
and your profile seems so forced and derived,
such a contrast to your natural cool
when your every action is not contrived.

I am tired of being one of your lines
without being a part of your realtime stream
and as this friendship slowly declines
I think it’s about time I changed my theme.

Since I’ve unsubscribed to your put downs
my face has been blessed with fewer frowns.

Friday, 11 November 2011

Primal Instincts

Would hunger make me hunt
or has humanity held me hostage to compassion?
If I became more primal
I could find happiness without the need to ration.
So, in a survival of the fittest,
I will try to stop being sentimental.
I will catch the day and devour it
until my stomach’s not as temperamental.


Life is just a collection
of ‘best-of’ montages,
It’s up to us to make
major movements
out of
minor moments.

Thursday, 10 November 2011

The King and his Empty Court

You’re forging defences against a fly
who is harmlessly trying to befriend you,
and the only damage done is made by
the very fences which defend you.

Why do you build these thick walls of steel
whenever someone reaches your border?
Are you afraid that you might start to feel
an attachment you feel out of order?

This concrete will only hold for so long,
deep down in the earth your foundations are weak
and as much as you make your fortress strong
someone with compassion might expose the leak.

There’s no enemy, so discard your shield
and instead take someone’s hand you wont yield.

Wednesday, 9 November 2011


The fallen tears of the tree
are hoarsely whispering to me
as they crisply kiss my toes.
They are so demanding
with each needy rustle landing
following wherever my foot goes.

Tuesday, 8 November 2011


When your mind
starts to comprise
with components
of your subconscious,
you’d best get some sleep.
And your constant
won’t help the sting
of your peeled eyes
and your constant
won’t help the sting
of your troubled head
and your constant
of this routine
just goes to show
a tired fool
displays exponential idiocy.
Consistent mistakes
are still consistency,
are they not?

Monday, 7 November 2011

Emo Jamz

You couldn’t forgive a blind man for looking at you wrong
when you feel your self-pity beginning to sting,
and you latch on to the lyrics of an old Midwest song
as if the words were yours to sing.
You say they make you feel lighter
to know that someone else feels the same hollow
but I notice your throat is getting tighter
with the years of the same sad songs that follow.
You see, we all will grow old
but not everyone will find themselves along the way,
and some constantly need to be told
that their happiness will find them someday.
You still seem so bitter and full of irritation
like your sadness is the only thing to which you can relate
and the only time you find any hint of elation
is when you are stressing all of the things that you hate.
So I think it’s about time you sang some happy lines
and hope they start to heat up inside your throat down to your heart
until the feeling behind them radiates and refines
those resentments that you had expressed from the start.
So the next time a blind man looks at you wrong way
you may lend him your hand to guide your new found friend,
having faith that you have brought colour into his day
and that the sad songs were about to end.

Sunday, 6 November 2011

We are all Born Strangers

We are all born strangers
so, please don't apologise
if you should cause me any pain,
the fault is entirely mine
for ever looking you in the eyes
and letting your presence remain.

We are all born strangers
so, please don't ever feel rude
should you one day decide to leave,
because you were never mine
and this life we live is so crude
for presenting the chance to grieve.

We are all born strangers
so, please let's keep it that way
to save us from that awkward ache,
let that born choice be mine,
you have no obligation to stay
and this heart is mine to break.

Friday, 4 November 2011

A Call for Passion

The kids these days look like clones
as if they need reassurance that they're not alone
with their v-neck shirts and vintage skirts,
stretched out ears and meaningless tattoos that prevent careers,
they kick their canvas shoes as they talk on their expensive phones.
I don't mind if they have chosen this image as their own
but when it's no function all fashion, all profit no fashion,
a mob without a mind, the blind leading the blind
then I am worn to the bone.

The irony is, most of these reject the mainstream
like their subculture is much more unique than it seems
but they are all investing into the notion they're protesting
and the words lose their sense coming from mouths of pretence.
Those true to their roots get tarred as the same team
forcing them to begin off-shoots to revive their dream,
so with the foundations dispersing, the rubble start cursing,
causing trouble for the true who are now just a few
and so style over substance reigns supreme.

Against the Tide

For the past few months I've been swimming against a tide
which has been dragging towards the jagged terrain,
so if I was to relax and grasp a wave to ride
I know that it would ultimately result in pain.

So I have no choice but to struggle against the pull
and hope that my efforts lead me somewhere secure
when I can take advantage of the tempest's lull
though I know I still have the worst of it to endure.

And now the clouds above me are starting to get so bleak
and all of my muscles are beginning to ache
but I can't show any outward signs of feeling weak
as sharks are circling to snatch their supper that's at stake.

As I notice their presence, I feel like giving in
like all hope and vigour's deserted my every limb
but I see my reflection in their sharp daggered fin
and realise that I have enough strength left to swim.

I'm still no closer to reaching a safe dry land
but I sense that I'm becoming stronger with each stroke made
and when water is shallow enough for me to stand
I'll be content to remain wet and gently wade.

Secret Therapy Sessions

A poem a day
keeps the therapist away,
or at least until they are read,
but I know that they
largely unread will stay,
so my secret's safe 'til I'm dead.

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Key in Hand

My hands are pressed against bars of cold steel
and it's hard to tell on which side I stand,
but there's no escaping the way I feel
whilst knowing that no judge will understand.

I can't figure out if I am in jail
or if I'm keeping the world locked away
in either case justice does not prevail
so this empty cell is where  I still stay.

I'm hoping someone will give me a fair trial
or maybe it's me who decides their fate
and if the proceedings may take a while
I hope the verdict doesn't fall too late.

In light of evidence, I hope I'll see
that I am the one holding the key.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011


I don’t ask for much from life,
but it seems that those small pleasures that I do seek
don’t correlate with the hopes and wishes
of anyone that I know.
Individuality is often encouraged,
people are told “be yourself!”
but a fault that one could find
is that yourself can be a lonely place.
So, despite our efforts to reject
popular culture and mainstream subculture
we are consequentially
rejecting society.
As such, one could ponder
is humanity and personality unnatural
and would we find more happiness
as numbered robots?


People often say
“if it’s not broken don’t fix it”
but if it is broken,
it’s most likely beyond repair,
so if it’s not broken
please fix it
and keep on tinkering
with loving care.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011


The person I am is a paper-mache
of who I was and what I want to be,
a mismatching collage with gaping holes
with materials which never agree.

So I plaster myself with more false hopes
that I can cover up all my mistakes
but the foundations I've built are so flimsy
that the excess I've added never takes.

I serve myself with no real function;
just a poorly constructed DIY,
a prototype that never made production,
a faulty product that no-one will buy.

So go ahead and please tear me apart
because I could surely use a fresh start.