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

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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

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

Mere Imaginings

Almost everything
I remember
Of you
Are mere imaginings

Just the stories
Shared
Of a man
Long gone
Made real
By the desperate
Longings of a son
To feel
Something
Anything
For his father
Other than shame

My dwindling pride
Clinging
To the hope
That perhaps
You were once
Something more
Than the shell
You became

I tell them
I never knew that man
That those memories
Are not mine
Yet now
Those lies
They are all I have of you
Beyond the small scatterings
Of pain
I learnt to forget

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

Triggered

I cannot whisper
The words I wish to scream

Tears fall
At the precipice of silence

Unmoving internal chaos
Catatonic rage

Memories of the present
Give way to realities of the past

All again
All at once

Visions flash
To the beat of the body’s rocking

The internal observer
Watches helpless

Why can’t you see I’m suffering?
Don’t you dare touch me

Thank god
For Valium

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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.

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This poem is from the book Words On A Page

Distortions

My mind creates this world.
How can you say I am not God?
Every character, every scene, every aspect;
All a variation of myself.

Created in my image, created in my mind.
Both with and without intention.
The universe forever expanding
Inwardly as it does outwardly.

Distortions of reality,
More elegant than any alternate world.
Why should I leave?

Here I am something,
Simultaneously at, in and above myself.
A beautiful story of consciousness,
Played in a theatre of dreams.

Time passes, I open my eyes.
My focus wanes and I begin to forget.
Only the feelings remain,
Glorious certainty, a guide to my higher self.
Fragments of my truth are written and told.
Just a mere representation, a lie.
Imagination takes hold,
Corrupting, corroding, filling the gaps.

Stop. Let me remember.
Let me feel again,
I want the unadulterated truth.

I want to be back there again,
Where I feel divine,
Where it feels right.

Where I don't feel like a character
In someone else's dream.
I want to be present,
Both creating and existing simultaneously.

Doubts creep in,
It was just a beautiful distortion of reality,
A test of faith. Nothing to see here,
Move along. I am awake. It's gone.

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This poem is from the book Words On A Page