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

---

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

To Purchase The Moon

I sacrificed the sun
To purchase the moon
Working hard
From dusk to noon

But all you see
Is me locked away
Stuck in my room
Unable to play

I’m trading my time
For you to live
It’s the only thing
I’m able to give

I’m so sorry son
I know you need more
You need more of me
Of that I’m sure

I hate how this world
Forces us apart
I long for the days
I could apprentice you to my art

But that would just be
A different kind of pain
What if you didn’t want
To work in my same vein?

Thus my attempt
To lift you high as I can
I want you to become
A fulfilled and happy man

There is no right answer
Beyond a cry and a shrug
Other than to read you a nightly story
And depart with a hug

Just know I’m always thinking
Of you and your brother
I love you both
You two and your mother

---

This poem is from the book Wage Slave, The Unpaid Overtime Edition

beauty of the sea

i closed my eyes to the beauty of the sea
shielding the fragile part of my soul
that still believed
in the childish notion of an untainted moment

as i walked away
i couldn’t help but hear the crash of the waves
nor could i ignore the subtle fragrance
of echoed memories telling stories
of countless days lost and found
of floating
of sun-drenched smiles
of laughter
and of the salty tears of rebellion against a world that was forcing me to leave

i am crying those same tears now
their slow descent down my cheeks
mirroring a life spent running away from itself
too afraid to taste the saltiness of the water
too afraid to feel the sun or hear the waves
and too afraid to cry tears of departure
that i never allow myself to see
the beauty of the sea that is in front of me

---

This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry

i’m worth keeping

upon waking
i’m dismayed to discover myself already breaking
thoughts preaching
lights beaming
whispered voices that feel like screaming

i find myself fleeing
huddling in a corner
counting heartbeats
shallow breathing

i can actually feel my rationality leaving
whatever i was is now just dissociated dreaming

i long to find meaning
behind these tears now streaming
but all i can muster is passive disbelieving

i thought such pain was leaving
i thought i was a book worth reading
i thought by sharing and speaking
my days would be filled with more than just ink bleeding

time passes and i hear my kids pleading
they want their dad
not some broken mess stuck self-defeating

time to put on the mask and pretend that the world has stopped screeching
that my thoughts are no longer scheming
and that my pain is receding

but then they hug me and tell me i’m worth keeping
they jump and laugh with smiles gleaming
inviting me to play
requesting
repeating
a loving greeting worth receiving

the world softens
stuck turns fleeting
colour returns
that unmovable block retreating
tension releasing
light increasing
clear seeing

i hold them
and commit to continue proceeding
today was hard
but sometimes just surviving counts as succeeding

---

This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry

Unfortunately

How
Can I accept
Your offer to help
When that very offer
Is tainted?

By opening myself
To your love
I would also be reopening
The old wounds
Inflicted by you

Unfortunately
For both of us
Your love
Isn’t strong enough
To stop that pain

Unfortunately
For both of us
I am not
Strong enough
To move on

---

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

Looking In

I close my eyes.

Where once there was vividness
There is now a vague blur.

Stories and visions intermingle
A kaleidoscope of confusion.

Words and non-words alike
Are spoken and responded to.

The allure of reality is lost,
Replaced by the bliss of the abyss.

The joy of not knowing
Is ever more tempting.

Closing my eyes to avoid it all,
To get to where release was once felt.

But no more.
The avalanche of memory greets me.
I cannot escape the pain inside.
I long to let it go.

To let it all go.

---

This poem is from the book Words On A Page

Sorry My Boy

Sorry my boy
I’ve got something to do
And unfortunately
It doesn’t involve you

Sorry my boy
I don’t have the time to chat
I’m too busy
But you know that

Sorry my boy
I can’t play right now
There is too much on
I’ve done as much as my schedule will allow

Hey my boy
I’m finally free
Want to hang out
Just you and me?

Sorry my dad
I’ve got too much on
With my work and my mates
My time is all gone

---

This poem is from the book Wage Slave, The Unpaid Overtime Edition

Love Is

Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.

Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.

Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.

Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.

Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.

Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.

Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.

Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.

---

This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence

Do You Love Me, Or Just The Idea Of Me?

Do you love me,
Or just the idea of me?

I may be your ‘dream girl’
But I am real,
And that reality is different
From your fantasy.

How often must we fight,
Just to clarify
That you expected
Me to speak differently?

How many tears must fall,
Just to realise
That you expected
Me to be something I’m not?

If you love me,
Please drop your expectations
And open your eyes
To the real me.

My body has blemishes.
I will lose my temper.
I judge unfairly.
I get things wrong. 

I am not perfect,
No one is.
Unless of course,
They’re just a dream.

---

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

Let’s Pledge To Repair

I know you care
And that you’ll always be there
But our intimacy?
It’s threadbare
Our bodies are no longer aware of the softness we would once share
It’s unfair
That the first thing to go was caress of one another’s hair
And the impromptu hugs that came from anywhere
No one is to blame
We just became distracted by stress’s snare
And focused on our children’s welfare
I know it’s wrong to compare
But I know we both miss the fanfare
The tender words that would soothe any nightmare
The love we would declare
And the time we would spare
So please
Take my hands
Let’s pledge to repair
To once again become a pair
To take time together no matter where
And no matter what events snare
Let’s swear
To take time daily and simply stare
Into each other’s eyes
Into each others hearts
To see each other bare
Let’s choose to share the same air
To take those gestures now rare
And gift them everywhere
To help each other up the stairs
To listen to the despair
To sit together in prayer
To love
And to be aware
Does that sound fair?

---

This poem is from the book Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul

Sacrifices

I wonder if
On the day I finally
‘Make it’
I will regret
The sacrifices
It took
To get there

---

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

Notice Me

I want you
To notice me.

Not for what I have done.
Not for the money I’ve made.
Not even for my art.

No.
I want you to notice me.

Me.

The man behind the artifice.
The man behind the smile.
The man behind the mask.

The man writing these words,
Knowing full well that you will never see them.

The man waiting for change,
Knowing full well that you are stuck in your ways.

The man who’s desperately seeking acknowledgement from a dry well. 

I want you
To notice me.

But I know you won’t.

How could you?

You, who was never there.
You, who looked the other way.
You, who set impossible standards.

You, who never wanted anything to do with me.

Isn’t it funny that despite all of this,
I still want you
To notice me?

Notice me.

Me.

---

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

He Accepts

He accepts the world as it is
Never asking for much
beyond a smile and a hug.

Unruffled by change,
Volume, voice, or visage.
He embraces you for who you are.

Happiness is never far from him.
Small accomplishments
yield disproportionate joy.

Just a look will change his entire world,
And in doing so cause
His unfiltered response to change yours.

---

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

A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

---

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

Red Flag Chaser

I’m a red flag chaser
A self-debaser
That tattooed look
Leaves me shook
Dabbling in drugs
With ‘caring’ thugs
Incredible sex
For the brain hex
Insightful conversations
Just distracted ruminations
Same toxic pattern
From abstinent to slattern
A mirror’s shame
Only myself to blame
Left alone and burnt
No lesson learnt
I get off on the thrill
Of you losing your chill
I hate when you insist
With a scream and a fist
But it’s worth the pain
To feel like myself again
A childhood’s toll
Red flags make me whole
The end of another fight
This is love, right?

---

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

God's Love

*** Trigger Warning ***

He told me I was special,
And gave me all the perks.
Held my hand through prayer,
And showed me how the system works.

He said it would be our little secret,
Kept between him, me, and God.
Told me that I was a good boy.
Summoned me with that little nod.

He taught me what was holy.
To trust in the divine word.
That my doubts were of the devil,
To not trust in the absurd.

He spoke of the afterlife,
Spewing words of eternal damnation.
The trials of earth trivial,
Compared to the day of revelation.

He showed me how a soft caress,
Can feel like the stab of a demon.
That he held all the power,
And that God’s love tastes like semen.

He demonstrated the church’s power,
By denying all my accusations.
How could a priest be sullied,
By a young boy’s fabrications?

He was eventually punished,
They moved him to a new town.
Gave him a new flock,
Other boy’s souls to drown.

He died as he lived,
Safe and admired,
Protected by his brethren,
A biblical patriarchy conspired.

He left me broken,
Mind, body, soul.
What he did destroyed my faith,
Leaving me not whole.

---

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

Validate Them

If you’ve an artist in your life,
be they poet, painter, dancer, or designer,
validate them.

Praise them without ambiguity.
Pre-emptively clarify confusing compliments.

Hug them after they show you their creations,
because it’s then that they are most vulnerable.

Having shared their soul,
they stand before you raw,
silently begging for acceptance,
desperately hoping that they’ve done enough.

---

This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry

You Say

You say you love me,
But you don’t know me,
Not the full me,
Not every part of me,
Not as I really am.

You say I should open up,
That I should share,
That I should let you in,
Into my inner world,
Into my mind, my emotions, my everything.

You say you will accept me,
But that’s a lie,
You don’t know me,
Not all of me,
Not the parts you haven’t seen.

Do you know yourself well enough?
How will you react to me?
What will you do when I show you?
What will you think of my darkness?
My pain? My weaknesses? My desires?

No.
You only accept the parts you’ve seen.
Then you make assumptions,
Of yourself,
Of me.

That I’m not that bad,
That there isn’t much more,
That embarrassment holds me back,
That you can save me,
That you would want to.

It is safer to hide,
To show a just little,
Just the parts that are acceptable,
The parts I have practiced,
The parts that work.

You don’t love me,
You just love those parts,
You just love the surface,
Your love hasn’t touched the depths,
It never will.

---

This poem is inspired by the book How To Write Evocative Poetry