Poetry

Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.

Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry

About Poetry
Poetry, wage slave Zachary Phillips Poetry, wage slave Zachary Phillips

This Day Is About To End

This day is about to end
It’s almost time to do it again
To pretend you’ve got reasons to attend
To trade time for the stuff you can spend
Five days then a weekend
Repeated without the chance to ascend
No chance to transcend
No bonus dividend
No time to mend the relationship with a friend
Just a life you barely comprehend
Attempting not to offend
Attempting not to condescend
Working on autopilot until you expend
Look at that, it’s year’s-end
Nothing of worth penned
Nothing of worth to recommend
Just an overspend on the new trend
A backbend in lieu of a godsend
How will you fend
When you have no meaning to contend
No higher force on which to depend?
I don’t mean to offend
But this day is about to end
And unless you want to do it all again
There’s some things that you should attend

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Poetry, dark night of the soul Zachary Phillips Poetry, dark night of the soul Zachary Phillips

me at 36

i’m 36
crying and triggered
remembering when i was 8
remembering my stepfather
remembering the warnings that went unheard
remembering the pleas for help went unanswered
remembering the fear
remembering the confusion
remembering the choice to force myself to forget

remembering
crying
writing

remembering
crying
and writing more

desperately hoping that all this is somehow also healing

it’s my birthday and my family are watching me breakdown
i am stoned on weed
valium
memory
and music

tears
my ink

pain
my pen

words
my voice

… it’s time to blow out the candles and make a wish
perhaps i’ll live to wish another …

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Poetry, Words On A Page Zachary Phillips Poetry, Words On A Page Zachary Phillips

Eyes

She has sad eyes. Forlorn. Longing.
Young, but not innocent. She’s seen things.
She hid, she ran, she learnt.
Yet her troubles still follow.
So she smiles wide, laughs and parties.
But it’s just a cover.
Mostly she’s acting.
In attempting to fool herself, she loses herself.
Questions arise. These questions she ignores.
Her worries are of the future,
Yet she lives for the now.
Avoiding. Pretending. Feeling. Breaking.
But she is young, and she is pretty,
So most are captured by her smile.
Not by the pain in her eyes,
Reflecting the depth of her soul.

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