Monthly Archives: July 2016

Untitled VI

Who hides there in my silence,

and crawls through each misplaced thought?

To haunt the waking consciousness,

frightened as it sought – some truth.

Which I will never find,

the cure, the truth which is myself.

Tucked beneath the lie.

Every uttered sound a noise,

to block away the scar –

laid with ease inside a dream,

passed off as nothing more – and yet

there is sets and begs me on.

Explain me please it dares,

and I must fight it hand to fist.

The battle that is not there,

arguing on and on until

the voice, so gently fades.

As the body drifts to sleep,

and I begin the day -afraid

Longing – and each minute more,

the silent twilight near

the dawning of the match.

Where pleading words of clarity,

shadow my every thought –

Yet, in constant grief – in stillness

Raging – as if to burst

into – a million jagged fragments lost within a single word.

Untitled V

One boy, a child is born,

into a world not chosen , inherited –

Taught and shown, a witness silently.

To all the love and hate.

A broken apartment, an absent dad –

comforted by the outside – the street.

What choice? tempted by acceptance,

list between the headlines.

Responsible, yet to whom –

the option to sink or swim.

Fear or be feared, be adored or alone

one boy, innocence betrayed.

Untitled IV

Cherish the quick glances,

the insignificant sounds

and the mistaken voices.

For life is truly a festival –

a playful ride

through colours,

And a journey

enhanced only by appreciation.

I Feel

I can feel your absence,

the shadow that you left.

Deeply tattooed to my soul,

preventing my deceit.

I can feel the sweat

as you body joins –

mine in sweet perfection

as we are to rejoice.

I can feel the breath,

that stains my silken cheek

as you exhale a final time,

to find what we both seek.

I can feel all of you,

a partner to my soul.

Always a friend and love of mine,

passionately take your toll.

Untitled III

If I should die

before I live

my life is meant to be,

a longing for of ink & scratch

which is fulfilled through eternity.

Please share all that I have known & learnt,

with those I’ve never met.

Keep my memory, neatly tucked between

all the printed lines and words

that guided me on my way.

Poetic Anatomy

At home upon the sheet

as the ink runs through the lines,

driving the unseen passion

behind it lies the sign.

The scriptures are its visions,

peering through the dirt.

The words cry out it’s meaning,

verbal muscles hurt.

Its entity isĀ  the being,

who lies beside the pen.

The soul is now released from here,

never to understand.

Autumn Ride

Foliage crisping, crunching, twisting,

coloured with mythical brushes,

piercing, freeing and so completing,

clothing the naked crowd.

Pages crisping, crunching, twisting,

scarred with strange minds,

piercing, freeing and so completing,

filling the naked crowd.

I wonder….

I wonder, in this game

of chance and destiny.

I wonder if a voice may come,

that drifts me into sleep.

I wonder, in this smile –

in bliss and disbelief,

I wonder if I am lost –

a lion in a sheep.

And then I no longer wonder,

then I no longer need

to place this piece with that, so far

beyond a fantasy.


Impurity bleached your icy chill

crystal beauty lies –

beneath the frosty sheet,

entombed the earth has died.

Warmth escapes through absence,

the wilting velvet leaf;

colours bleeding into grey

and aged beyond belief.

Old memories frozen with the ice,

the cycle of the moon;

A reminder by design.