The Derelict

The first thing you notice are his bare feet,
Black and dirty.
Lacking a chair, he squats.
Lacking a home, he squats.
The second thing you notice are his eyes,
Sunken and hollow.
Desperate.
You walk.
He sees you seeing him.
You walk faster.
He smiles wide.
His teeth are as broken as the dwelling he guards.
Shattered windows for a shattered soul.
He calls out.
You walk faster still.
His sunken eyes suddenly grow sharp.
He recognises an opportunity.
You wear things of value.
You are something of value.
A second voice joins the first,
And then a third.
They point.
They chuckle.
They stand.
Your wealth represents their high.
Your body represents their high.
You run.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Trippin

My days are slippin
I be trippin
Over myself
Over my words
Sentimental thoughts
I’m mental
Mental state
Lost forms abate
Can’t wait
I overcompensate
I’m lost
Searching for you
Looking for new
A preview in lieu of success
I’m a mess
Such stress
Much duress,
Brain’s compressed,
Into something different
I’m indifferent
Maleficent
A power against the world
Against myself
I’m self-destructive
Creative in chaos
Constructive in harm
Persuasive self-pity
I be trippin
This day be slippin
Now I’m lippin
My thoughts
Onto paper
No sense
Just nonsense
A flow
A recompense
From the memories
From the pain

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This poem is from the book Words On A Page

Fever Dreams

Fever dreams
Liberate the mind
Boundless and edgeless
Thoughts flow
Skipping between
Ponds of reality
No longer constrained
By rationality
I drift
What once thirsted for stability
Now wants for nothing
But the pretty colours
That seem to hold
All meaning
Within this play
Of consciousness

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Memory Violation

brain oscillation
no concentration
thought invasion
constant rumination
memory violation
past commiseration
unwanted stimulation
apologetic compensation
fleeting determination
hypocritical deliberation
personality creation
false presentation
total ostentation
needing defibrillation

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Paradox of Affliction

I need you to help me,
But you overwhelm me.

I need support,
But I cannot bring myself to ask.

I need an intervention,
But I will fight against change.

I need answers,
But I don’t know what to ask.

I need a miracle,
But I don’t believe they exist.

I need something,
But I don’t know what it is.

I need this to stop,
But I’m too afraid to act.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Prognosis

I’m sorry to confirm,
You have a case of thought worm.

Soon they will infect your brain,
With reverberated pain.

They will burrow and squirm
And spread their sperm.

Then their spawn will begin to drain
And eventually you’ll be driven insane

You gotta hold firm,
Cause you’re in it for the long term.

I say it again,
In vigilance you must remain.

Still, you’re gonna end up infirm,
Cause you’re infected by a thought worm.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Tears

your tears came
a moment too late
their worth voided
upon creation

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Nothing

i don’t want
to do
anything
yet
even doing nothing
is still
something

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Other Than Here

The inner storm meets outer calm.
A silent fury.
Impotent rage not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner fog meets outer clarity.
A quiet constriction.
Clear thought not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner grime meets outer cleanliness.
A mute warning.
Functionality not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Lickety-Split

I wanna quit
I’m just not with it
Feeling like shit
Feeling like a misfit
An unfit and unlit hypocrite
In need of a refit

No longer with the energy to commit
Unable to continue sharing my wit
Unable to continue to submit
Unable to fulfil his holy writ

A social counterfeit
A fool with his brain split
Someone who’s no longer legit

Some kinda halfwit
Rolling without a permit
In need of a babysit

I’m unfit
An empty tool kit
A horse without its bit
A victim that’s gaslit
A plane without a cockpit
A radio with nothing to transmit

Guilt that’s impossible to acquit
Pain that I can no longer omit

Not without a wrist slit

Not without a friend to get close-knit
Someone that allows me to admit
All of my turmoil and bullshit
Someone with the necessary grit
To make the darkness sunlit
Someone that won’t just split
The moment I fall into a pit

If that’s you, please send help, lickety-split

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly