Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Feelings and Words

Backtracking on all the words that I'd sent,
and feelings meant,
with feelings spent
the words only play and torment
so it's about time these feelings and words went.


Forgive and forget
before you
relive and regret.


He ignored what he was told
about how she was cruel and cold
for what he saw was unique.
Now through experience he knows
of all the joy her heart has froze,
which melts all hope to something bleak.

Monday, 27 February 2012


I found my misplaced pills
at the bottom of my rucksack
and staring at the packet
has brought it all rushing back
to when I was needing
but couldn't find my fix
cause the same tattered bag
was filled with heavy bricks,
but now the pills I see
scattered across the floor
are just a reminder
of something not needed anymore
so I may as well get rid
of everything in my bag
in the hope that my next step
will not be such a drag.

Staring Contests with the Sun

You can shield your eyes from the Sun
but its shine will be just as bright
and its knowing glare will still remain
when concealed in the dark of night,
so look it straight back in the eyes
until it shyly looks away
and its judging stare will be hidden
and masked by the clear light of day.

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Who I Am

           Who I am
is not
           what I am
          what I am
is not
          where I am
          where I am
          why I am
                             who I am.


Caught with my fly down
and I don't know how I will
discretely rezip.


Is it better
to shy away from words unspoken
or shy away from those words spoken?

Tuesday, 21 February 2012


I've spent the past twenty four hours
shuffling this beat-up deck of cards,
rearranging the same fifty two images
and observing which comes out on top.
The corners are folded over, creased and peeling,
weary from excessive use,
reddened and faded...
my eyes have seen better days.
As much as I try to justify
the allegedly impartial, randomised nature
of this monotonous ritual
I can't help but stop on the card which I want.
Up it solemnly stares at me,
like an abandoned child on their first day of school,
I must turn this card face down
for the greater good of the pack.

All in the Mind

Don't bother to cover your clumsy tracks
because it isn't hard to catch your trail.
I see your sole's print where the pavement cracks
and notice your face turn a ghostly pale.

Please don't bother to show any remorse
cause I've always been a sucker for tears
and any anger would be blown off course
and I would soon forget about rash fears.

Darling, don't bother to try and explain
because your words are wasted in the wind
and the only truth that would then remain
is the fact that you had never sinned.

Don't bother reading into all you find
because half the time it is in your mind.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Digging your own Grave

So you've been wanting to bury that skeleton
which hangs around your neck like a hangman's scarf?
Well, I am not afraid to get my hands dirty
but I am terrified that people will perceive
me to be the dirt under your nails.
By all means, let me dig deep for you
and bury that bag of bones which drags you down
but please do not let us fall into our own grave
and do not let my name be smudged with soil.

Friday, 17 February 2012

Bury It

Well I've got this feeling,
so unappealing
that you possess a passion
which you are concealing
within the ceiling
along with your compassion.
Well I've been left reeling
from the looks you're stealing
within your angry glare
and I've been dealing
with statements revealing
all the hate I must bare.

Thursday, 16 February 2012


I've become curiously aware
of each particle in the air
and the importance of each breath.
I feel my every strand of hair
and each thread in what I wear
and it frightens me to death.

Bed of Leaves

The cool, composed wind
whispers wistfully to
the trembling, blushing treetops;
strong but not over-
forceful in its grip.
The stubbornly rooted tree
cannot help but be swayed
by the wind's compelling influence,
she removes her modest auburn leaves and
they drop to the floor.
The Fall finally lands
on the forest bed, scattered
with the tree's removed attire
exposing the smooth, soft frame
behind her bark.
His breath reaches out
to her every bare branch,
to even the smallest of twigs and crevices,
until the wind's ecstatic sigh is matched
by the tree's groan.
When the Fall is over
 both the tree and wind embrace,
exposed but euphoric, hoping that their
unison and their shared heat will
see out the Winter.

Trapped in Transit

Dark dusty footprints on the platform floor,
grubby wet fingerprints on the train door.
All of them transported from A to B
locked in with passengers no-one can see.

A grotty can of viruses and scum
with loud conversations from the deaf and dumb
all headed to the same destination;
the journey ends at the filth filled station.

Although this situation makes me sick
I am not in a position to pick
so I just blend in the best that I can
thoroughly despising the journey's span.

Some could any that I am being a snob
but I hate being part of a plebeian mob
so I will sit with my nose in the air
and disinfect myself when I get there.


Covering the cracks
will not prevent the cold drafts
of untiring truth

Black Cloud

Black cloud,
why do you hang around the neck
of my blue sky,
and hide your happiness away?
Black cloud,
why do you angrily loom
up to my moon
and keep the daylight at bay?

Sunday, 12 February 2012

Last Minute Submission

On the seventh day God sat around in his bedroom,
lazily lounging in his comfiest warm clothes
feeling relieved that he scraped through his deadline.
On the seventh day God pressed against his radiator
and checked through all of the work that he'd submitted
but couldn't feel warm pride at his rushed, half-hearted effort.
On the seventh day God looked out of his window
watching the condensation from his breath ebb away
and realised the view wasn't as beautiful as he thought.
On the seventh day God retreated back to the comfort of his bed,
wishing that he could have another chance to create perfection
because inactivity bored him and his tired eyes could see all the world's faults.


The clouds keep shifting
and it's becoming increasingly difficult
to decide what I should wear
or what I should do with my day,
but I end up settling on the same grubby attire
and the same tired routine
regardless of change's necessity.
Maybe I need
a natural disaster
to get me out
of this mindset.

Saturday, 11 February 2012


Words shoot off into the air like fireworks
exploding into a thousand fantastic colours
and spreading across all of the stars noisily,
a wondrous sight when rooted to the ground
but words fizz out, words fade out, words fall,
and they end up as damp unwanted waste
in some begrudging soul's backyard.

Untouched Snow

Footprints in the snow
have been smothered
by the sky's fresh fall.
 I'm glad of this chance
to retrace my steps
and make a mess of it all.

Friday, 10 February 2012


Your whisper is like a kiss on my ears,
it tastes so wonderful to hear,
you calm me away from my fears.

Your kiss is like a whisper on my lips,
so softly your tongue slips
and yet so tightly its effect grips.

Matched fear

These are the words
from me to you
to let you know
that I’m scared too.

But I will try
to keep you here
away from our
unneeded fear.

So just hold tight
and let me in
so you can keep
that gorgeous grin.


Back when we were just two small-minded teens
I watched that young girl I used to know die.
Giving no thought to what your eyes light means
I never considered questioning why.

For the next few years you were just a ghost,
present but unnoticed in another world
and in my own place I was too engrossed
to notice you weren't the same wide-eyed girl.

Two years ago I was sure that I saw you
but I didn't believe that you were real
and so I looked at your face and stared right through
unaware of what you'd later make me feel.

Lately I have been haunted by your eyes
and I was reminded of that girl I knew
but as I looked closer I realised
that the person you are is completely new.

You have been brought back to Earth as a saint
and I've never before seen such beauty
as that which both your body and soul paints
as though dispersing joy is your duty.

Your eyes radiate a brilliant blue
and the smile that goes with them just as fair,
the light emitted shows that you are true
and I can feel the warmth that shows you care.

Your figure must be sculpted by the divine
for I have never seen one quite so unflawed
and to think that you'd ever be mine
leaves me feeling both humbled and awed.

Your skin feels so silky soft to touch
but softest of all is your kind heart
and I feel so dizzy when within your clutch;
yours is a hold I never want to depart.

It feels like our souls are intertwined,
like we are bound by some blissful fate.
We share many traits and are of the same mind
and I'm astonished with how well we relate.
Now, you are neither that girl nor that ghost
but an angel who has taken my heart
for you are what I want and need the most
and I hope that this bond should not fall apart.


None quite as fair as her
who is my brightest star.
She is the only light I see
when standing way afar.

None quite as fair as her
who is my tallest tree.
She is the one who blocks the rain
and her branches cradle me.

None quite as fair as her
who is my clearest sound.
She is the noise which calls to me
when silence is all around.

None quite as fair as her
who is my coolest breeze
She is the breath who keeps me calm
and composes me with ease.

None quite as fair as her
who is my softest snowflake
She is the touch which flips my stomach
and gently kisses me awake

None quite as fair as her
who is my warmest ray
She is the heat which is still felt
when she has gone away.

None quite as fair as her
who is my wildest taste.
She is the craving I always get
when my heart is hammering with haste.

None quite as fair as her
who is my sweetest scent.
She is the one who quietly lingers
and sticks to me like cement.

Monday, 6 February 2012

Worn In / Worn Out

Standing at the front door
you always seem to choose
your battered old shoes,
over those which are new
(the ones I bought you)
which you hardly wear anymore.
Can't you see they're worn away?
They should be thrown away
and I find myself torn away
because I simply cannot stay
the pair of shoes you once wore.

Bitter Medicine

Self pity has never felt better
and jealousy never tasted so bitter
than when rereading your letter
which is now torn up litter,
so from now on wont you spare your words
and punishment for prison wards
because I am sick of thinking someone cares
only for them to cut the chords.

Sunday, 5 February 2012


Well I watched your wires weave in a neatly tangled clutter
and I wondered if there was some divine purpose
in all these seemingly superfluous intricacies,
like this mess is knitwear with designs too complex
for the human eye to completely appreciate.
Perhaps it isn't so disastrous that a slight in hand
has made a hole in this otherwise whole piece,
or that there remains a loose end which is beginning to fray;
because one day that loose end will be tugged at
and will reveal new designs which had never before been considered,
and behind the dangling thread will be true intention and destiny...
afterall, isn't invention just an inadvertent deviation from prior inventions?

Forgetting Lyrics

I've been singing along
to my soul's torture song
whilst raising my voice for the chorus.
Muttering the verses
like foreign tongued curses,
forgetting what the words meant for us.

What's slipping off my tongue
is coming out wrong
and I suddenly feel quite ashamed,
for I can't find my range
and the words never change
so it is my own voice to be blamed.

Thursday, 2 February 2012

Home on a Saturday Night

I am tired of social norms
and expectations,
to wear some lonely facade,
and fuel a life full of regrets and sin
with a poison which will destroy bodies,
destroy minds, and destroy relationships.
My friends ask me to 'get messy' and to 'play the field',
and yes there is something to be said
for the mess being in the field
but I like to stick to the path
and keep my soles clean.
I don't preach a life of abstinence,
but a life of control and recollection.
Pride always tastes better in the morning
than a headache and an upturned stomach.
Adam asked when did doing something
you'll regret become cool,
and I think that he hit the nail on the head.
I guess it's too bad
that people are too nailed and off their head
to notice.

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Living Dead

I feel that feral fever festering,
it seems I'm forever bitten, never scarred
and my hunger for flesh is pestering
where I'm craving your soft, delicate heart.

I treat my victims with the utmost care
but I cannot promise a safe return
and what I offer is something so rare
that it is a life which you have to earn.

I know that what I am terrifies you
but you'll soon grow accustomed to the sweet taste;
I might have bitten off more than I can chew
but I will not let your heart go to waste.

I have walked the earth as the living dead
but then you made me feel alive instead.