Work Life Balance

Attempting to balance
Work and life
Just seems like another job
I don’t have time
To complete

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

Sad Zac is Sad

Sad Zac is sad
He’s feeling bad
He’s feeling like he’s been had
That the times he was glad
And feeling rad
Were in fact just a fad

As a wee lad
Sad Zac couldn’t relate to any comrade
He was bullied by Chad
Crying, he asked advice from his dad
‘Just punch his face a tad’
Lesson learnt, fists make a nomad
Add one tick to the notepad
No one approaches the battle clad
No one threatens the mad

Sad Zac is sad
Remembering his dad
Remembering him before he was mad
Rereading the notepad
Reminiscing of the success had
Ruminating on his advice to play mad
And embodying it as a personality pad

Sad Zac now fears the nomad
And trains daily for a fight he’s not yet had
Fear of the footpad wielding a doodad
Has grown into fear of every comrade
‘Where is the rest of the advice, dad?’
‘How can I avoid also going mad?’
‘What can I do to stay feeling glad?’
‘Who can I turn to now that you’re just a notepad?’

Sad Zac is still sad
But also a tad glad
Because putting these thoughts on this notepad
Has alleviated some of the mad
He still feels bad
But writing has healed some of his inner lad

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

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

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

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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This poem is from the book Words On A Page