POETRY
Living expressions of inner work. Offered as a glimpse of the process towards radical self-acceptance, healing, and growth.
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Forever Cursed To Sing
Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?
My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away
The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn
Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn
I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake
Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break
The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing
Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing
Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears
Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears
The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit
Smoldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit
Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?
My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away
The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn
Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn
I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake
Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break
The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing
Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing
Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears
Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears
The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit
Smouldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Seed
Sometimes,
I feel like a seed.
A potential inert,
A possibility to succeed.
So just put me in the dirt
And give me what I need.
How else can I avert?
How else can I exceed?
Other times,
I feel hurt.
Just a societal weed.
A potential victim on alert,
Nurtured only when I bleed.
I don’t mean to be curt,
How else can I plead?
How else can I divert?
How else can I be freed?
I am the hurt seed, the weed that’s only freed by the blood that it bleeds. Put into the dirt just wishing to exceed. Inert without encouragement, unable to succeed. Thus, I plead; Be alert to my need. Don’t divert or think me curt, I just want to succeed.
So just burry me
And perhaps this seed
Will grow
Into a weed.
Sometimes,
I feel like a seed.
A potential inert,
A possibility to succeed.
So just put me in the dirt
And give me what I need.
How else can I avert?
How else can I exceed?
Other times,
I feel hurt.
Just a societal weed.
A potential victim on alert,
Nurtured only when I bleed.
I don’t mean to be curt,
How else can I plead?
How else can I divert?
How else can I be freed?
I am the hurt seed, the weed that’s only freed by the blood that it bleeds. Put into the dirt just wishing to exceed. Inert without encouragement, unable to succeed. Thus, I plead; Be alert to my need. Don’t divert or think me curt, I just want to succeed.
So just burry me
And perhaps this seed
Will grow
Into a weed.
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
blessed with life's baggage
contemplating suicide
is a luxury
i can no longer afford
i am blessed
with life’s baggage
weighed down by love
spurred
by the desire
to prove them wrong
cajoled into action
my inner voice
softly screaming
to be more
than a footnote
of failure
to act
in-spite of doubt
and fear of judgement
to resolve
to do everything
to ensure my legacy
when I die
i will die
having truly lived
contemplating suicide
is a luxury
i can no longer afford
i am blessed
with life’s baggage
weighed down by love
spurred
by the desire
to prove them wrong
cajoled into action
my inner voice
softly screaming
to be more
than a footnote
of failure
to act
in-spite of doubt
and fear of judgement
to resolve
to do everything
to ensure my legacy
when I die
i will die
having truly lived
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Lifeblood
Not yet dead
The demon
Writhes
On the page
Lacerated
By the light of attention
It stares
Horrified
As it’s lifeblood
Becomes the ink
Of its own
Eulogy
Not yet dead
The demon
Writhes
On the page
Lacerated
By the light of attention
It stares
Horrified
As it’s lifeblood
Becomes the ink
Of its own
Eulogy
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Uncontainable By The Bondage Of Words
Uncontainable
By the bondage
Of words
Its nature
Is unexplainable
Nameless
And
Formless
Yet more whole than
The even most perfect
Analogy can imply
To say it acts
Is a lie
To say it is
Is a lie
Even to call it ‘it’
Is a lie
Yet it acts
As it is
And as it does
In its way
Unfathomable
And unknowable
To everything
Other than itself
This
Despite its
Impact being
Forever felt
By everything
Or
perhaps not
As its very nature
Invalidates these words
As well as your interpretation of them
Uncontainable
By the bondage
Of words
Its nature
Is unexplainable
Nameless
And
Formless
Yet more whole than
The even most perfect
Analogy can imply
To say it acts
Is a lie
To say it is
Is a lie
Even to call it ‘it’
Is a lie
Yet it acts
As it is
And as it does
In its way
Unfathomable
And unknowable
To everything
Other than itself
This
Despite its
Impact being
Forever felt
By everything
Or
perhaps not
As its very nature
Invalidates these words
As well as your interpretation of them
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Suffering Without Hope
One day I will wake
To find you hanging
Above a letter
I won’t need to read it
I already know why
You tell me daily
Different words
Same truth
Suffering without hope
I find myself
Silently mourning
A death
That’s yet to happen
Unable to stop
The inevitability
Of your choice
Despite knowing
You are making it
I should do more
But there’s nothing more I can do
Other than wait
One day I will wake
To find you hanging
Above a letter
I won’t need to read it
I already know why
You tell me daily
Different words
Same truth
Suffering without hope
I find myself
Silently mourning
A death
That’s yet to happen
Unable to stop
The inevitability
Of your choice
Despite knowing
You are making it
I should do more
But there’s nothing more I can do
Other than wait
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
I’ve Sold You My Soul
With this book
I’ve sold you my soul
Put myself on display
Showing you my whole
Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After my father’s toll
A prostitution of pain
A sympathy payroll
Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After her thoughtless console
A pitiful attempt
To reclaim what he stole
I wrote this for me
There’s no other goal
Love it or hate it
Fuck you all
No
Not you dear reader
Just those close to me
Those who chose to troll
Those who attempted to control
Those who don’t know me at all
No
For you I extol
The healing granted
By planting the flag pole
Open your mind to gaze upon your soul
Write
Take back control
Step through the keyhole
Put it on the page
And remake yourself
Into a stronger whole
With this book
I’ve sold you my soul
Put myself on display
Showing you my whole
Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After my father’s toll
A prostitution of pain
A sympathy payroll
Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After her thoughtless console
A pitiful attempt
To reclaim what he stole
I wrote this for me
There’s no other goal
Love it or hate it
Fuck you all
No
Not you dear reader
Just those close to me
Those who chose to troll
Those who attempted to control
Those who don’t know me at all
No
For you I extol
The healing granted
By planting the flag pole
Open your mind to gaze upon your soul
Write
Take back control
Step through the keyhole
Put it on the page
And remake yourself
Into a stronger whole
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Candle
I’d like to be able to claim
That none can hold a candle
To your brilliance
But the truth is
They are but mere candles
Before you
Their light
Only blinding
Against darkness
Only blinding
In your absence
I’d like to be able to claim
That none can hold a candle
To your brilliance
But the truth is
They are but mere candles
Before you
Their light
Only blinding
Against darkness
Only blinding
In your absence
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Once More
Once more
I wake
Finding myself adrift
Lost in thoughts
Of things
That will never happen
That can never happen
An ocean of possibility
Extends in every direction
Yet I fear
Leaving the safety
Of the anchor
Of the known
Once more
I wake
Finding myself both
Aimlessly drifting and unequivocally struck
Chastising myself
For not staying still
For not moving on
Once more
I wake
Finding myself adrift
Lost in thoughts
Of things
That will never happen
That can never happen
An ocean of possibility
Extends in every direction
Yet I fear
Leaving the safety
Of the anchor
Of the known
Once more
I wake
Finding myself both
Aimlessly drifting and unequivocally struck
Chastising myself
For not staying still
For not moving on
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Not Safe
It’s not safe
For me to be alone
But it’s not pleasant
To be in my company
So how can I
Ask for you
To waste this day
Comforting me?
It’s not safe
For me to be alone
But it’s not pleasant
To be in my company
So how can I
Ask for you
To waste this day
Comforting me?
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Modern Day Peasants
You
and I
Are just
Modern day
Peasants
Convinced
By capitalism
To needlessly want
Controlled
By inflation
To pointlessly save
Coerced
By religion
To endlessly argue
The farm
Replaced by a cubicle
The hoe
Replaced by a chair
The grime
Replaced by paperwork
We
Are trapped
Idolizing
Those who escaped
The trap
The very system they now uphold
We devour news
As if we
Have any power
To act on it
Believing
That if we at least know
We will somehow survive
The next apocalypse
Our rulers say
They are protecting us from
We pretend
That the weekend is life
And that our work
Has meaning
We pretend
That we have fulfilled
The dreams
Of our childhood
We pretend
Because if we don’t
We will realize
We are
Modern day peasants
You
and I
Are just
Modern day
Peasants
Convinced
By capitalism
To needlessly want
Controlled
By inflation
To pointlessly save
Coerced
By religion
To endlessly argue
The farm
Replaced by a cubicle
The hoe
Replaced by a chair
The grime
Replaced by paperwork
We
Are trapped
Idolizing
Those who escaped
The trap
The very system they now uphold
We devour news
As if we
Have any power
To act on it
Believing
That if we at least know
We will somehow survive
The next apocalypse
Our rulers say
They are protecting us from
We pretend
That the weekend is life
And that our work
Has meaning
We pretend
That we have fulfilled
The dreams
Of our childhood
We pretend
Because if we don’t
We will realize
We are
Modern day peasants
This poem is from the book ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Nevertheless
I’m scared
Of what your love
Will cause me to
Face about myself
Nevertheless
I’m confident
That your love
Will guide me
Safely through
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Life To Avoid
Coffee to wake
Instagram to connect
Porn to cum
Alcohol to relax
Weed to create
Coke to play
MDMA to love
News to inform
Sugar to distract
Mushrooms to pray
Valium to calm
Melatonin to sleep
Life to avoid
Coffee to wake
Instagram to connect
Porn to cum
Alcohol to relax
Weed to create
Coke to play
MDMA to love
News to inform
Sugar to distract
Mushrooms to pray
Valium to calm
Melatonin to sleep
Life to avoid
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
In Your Absence
I can’t quite express
The confusion and the mess
That’s been left
In your absence
Why didn’t you confess
The demons that had you possessed?
Why couldn’t you
Escape the thoughts that had you depressed?
Why was this the only way you could address
The aspects of life that you detest
that had you dispossessed?
Perhaps if you got some of it off your chest
The world wouldn’t be one man less
One man that blessed it with his presence
Now all who knew you are left to digest
News of death’s caress via a self-inflicted process
We can’t protest
We can only attest
To the pain and existential unrest
Of the hole your life has left
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Legacy
In the end
The only things
I’ll leave behind
Will be the few memories
My children hold dear
An empty bank account
A pile of used junk
And
A few words
Immortalized upon the page
Waiting
For someone I never met
To misinterpret
In the end
The only things
I’ll leave behind
Will be the few memories
My children hold dear
An empty bank account
A pile of used junk
And
A few words
Immortalized upon the page
Waiting
For someone I never met
To misinterpret
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Foul Mistress Of Time
Release me
From these binds
Oh foul
Mistress of time
Let me
Deduce
The fountain
Of youth
The master
Crafts a puzzle
Then finds
The key
Sit and watch
The stone
To see
If it grows
We are born
A ticking clock
But die
A broken camera
The moment is
Only gone
When we
Fail to remember
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Expectations
While it’s never
As bad
As you think
It will be
It’s also
Never as good
As you remember
It to be
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
enough
why can’t
it be enough
to accept
that my life
simply is?
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Don’t Let Me Ruin You
I will tell you
That
I have your best interests
At heart
And I do
I will tell you
That
My critiques are meant
To help
And they are
I will tell you
That
I am working
For us
And I am
I will tell you
That you are holding yourself back
That you are embarrassing yourself
That you aren’t living to your fullest potential
That you can do more
That you need to relax
That you should forgive yourself
That you are worthy of love
That you are close to greatness
That you are my everything
I will tell you
How to fix your problems
And you will listen
Any you will change
And you will be ruined
By me
Unintentionally
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Complementing The Future
By complementing the future
She crafted the present.
Her words revealing a truth
Others couldn’t yet see.
Not for lack of trying,
But because she hadn’t yet spoken.
The truth was merely a dream,
Waiting for her birth it into reality.
Now here, its eternal nature is manifest.
The future, now present, informs the past,
And thus, her words were true before she ever spoke them.
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken