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

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

Trapped & Alone

Of course you feel so trapped and alone
It’s the only life you’ve ever known
It’s impossible to see what you’ve never been shown
Impossible to think when your life’s on loan
Forced to become what you should’ve outgrown
No true role model other than those
In your home
The actions taken now your future will atone
Already you are regretting the seeds you have sown
Already you are wondering if your mind is your own
Acutely aware of how you act the drone
Just another hapless soul addicted to their phone
Just another underpaid overworked useless clone
You know it’s not enough just to sit and bemoan
Your slavery to capitalism or how the algorithm has you prone
Or how you waste everyday dreaming of the unknown
Losing yourself in the fantasies you’ll forever postpone
Following the leaders you should have overthrown
Following the narrative spoken in that safe monotone
How easy it is to comply to accept and condone
To just go on feeling trapped and alone

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

A Moment That Will Never Come

It feels like
I’ve been preparing
My entire life
For a moment that will never come 

My body is tense
My mind is sharp
Yet I have nothing to do
With such focus

There is no enemy to fight
No emergency to survive
No monumental struggle to overcome
Nothing other than this day
And the next and the one after that

What glory is there to be found
In the daily grind?

How can I be proud of defeating
The mere anxiety of surviving the moment?

. . .

I crave catastrophe
And ache for the apocalypse

Not as a nihilist
But as a person without purpose

There’s little joy to be found in a job
Creating just to consume
Producing just to procreate
Done daily until death

I am a man without meaning
Readying myself for revelation

When survival isn’t assured life is serious
The useless artefacts will fall away
What actually matters will materialise
Focus will be forced towards functionality
Distracting decadences will be discarded
Leaving nothing but the struggle of life

Perhaps then I’ll find real purpose
Maybe existence will feel equanimous

. . .

How privileged
Am I
To lament
The ease of my life

I am blessed
To have never seen war
Or suffering

I am blessed
Yet that blessing
Feels like a curse of meaning

Without an enemy to fight
Without an obstacle to overcome
All this feels dulled
Life feels like a shadow
A mockery of everything I was promised

Thus I create my own demons
Faceless oppressors
That cannot be seen
Or overcome

Then I cry about my problems
Like they actually exist
Writing angsty poems
From a place of privilege

. . .

As a child
I learnt
Vigilance

To survive
I slept light
A knife under my pillow
Waiting for an attack

That attack never came
But I still sleep light
And have made my body into a weapon

I am still vigilant
Waiting for the attack
That will never come

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

Sacrifices

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

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