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

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

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

capitalistic desire

here’s to the capitalistic desire
to sacrifice our lives
in order to have the
most fancy coffin
just to flex on
our friends
that we didn’t have time for
and to afford a headstone
chiselled with a quote
espousing the value
of hard work
and dedication
to something beyond ourselves
that no one will read

---

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

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

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

Stop Rushing

Stop rushing.
Take a break.
You are not lazy.
Trust that you will get it done.
You always do.

To perform optimally,
You need to rest.
You need to recover.
You need to heal.
You need to take a breath.

So do so.
Give yourself permission.
Pour the cup of tea.
Feel its warmth.
Taste its subtly.

The world will still be there.
Your work will be waiting for you.
Return to it with fresh eyes.
Embrace it with new energy.
Attack the day.

---

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

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, or Audiobook.

What Moves You?

What moves you?
What do you enjoy?
What do you wish existed?

What puts you into a state of flow?
What do you do for fun?
Focus your efforts there.

Money, fame and rewards may come.
How much is enough? Always more.

A fickle dream that can never be reached.
Thus, you will never be satisfied.
Instead, you should embrace the process.

Let your actions speak for themselves.
Let the art take center stage.
Open yourself to the muse.

Let it work through you.
Let it guide your hand and
Buttress you with self-imposed discipline.

Success is an internal state.
No level of external reward
Can replace your inner truth.

So have fun.
Lean into the projects that bring you joy.
Make your work another form of play.

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

Swallow The Poison

Swallow the poison
Trade your day
Time for money
Life’s wasting away

Work to live
Not to thrive
It’s all you can do
Just to survive

Take a moment
Look around
This is your life
What have you found?

Your kids are old
Your friends are gone
Your dreams are unmet
But you can’t move on

You earn just enough
To cover the bills
You know what would happen
If you took ill

You’d lose your job
And then the house
Then the car
Then the spouse

So every day
No matter what
You swallow your poison
The only hope you’ve got

To earn enough
To survive the night
And do it all again
The daily fight

 Not quite the fairytale
You were promised in youth
But let’s be honest
No-one could accept the truth

It’s the daily grind
Called that for a reason
To hope for other wise
Is demonized as treason 

We are in this together
The workers plea
Collective repression
Then distracted depravity

Work for the weekend
Then pay to play
Porn, liquor, and drugs
Then some takeaway
 

It’s not in your budget
But you convince yourself it’s okay
Cause it’s all you can do
To survive another workday

Don’t think of the future
It’s far to long
30 years more of this
What could possibly go wrong?

But hey!
Doesn’t retirement actually seem good?
Finally you have the time needed
To do everything you wish you now could

So you delay gratification
Of most every form of joy
Problem is you’ll be too old by then
To enjoy it anyway

Still you delude yourself
It’s part of the poison
Swallowing your dreams
Then acting with caution

Besides those weekend benders
Leave you with little spare wealth
With little motivation
With diminishing health

You sometimes wonder
How you ended up here
Overwhelmed by resentment
You crack another beer

‘It is what it is’
‘Inflation is high’
‘It capitalisms fault’
To yourself you justify

There goes the weekend
It’s time for another dose
Off to work again
Hunting that promotion grandiose

A different brand of poison
A variation of the old promise
You’ll get paid far more
Cause you’re no longer a novice

In your new role
You think you will finally be free
Until it dawns on you
All that extra responsibility

Even less time
For those that you love
For the friends you don’t see
For all the hobbies you let go of

But what other choice
Could you realistically pursue?
If you changed path now
Only chaos would ensue

So you swallow the poison
You trade your day
Exchanging time for money
Letting your life waste away

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

Your Actions Are A Prayer

Your actions are a prayer,
To the Gods of functionality.
Your mind, your body, your spirit.
Honour them.
Wake early.
Sit in silence.
Then move,
Attend the iron church, or run, or dance.
The Gods smile upon those who act.

You are what you do.
So study your craft.
Work on your craft.
Share your craft.
Take criticism and praise in the same breath,
You are neither as good or as bad as they say.
Embrace the daily grind.
Work when nobody’s looking.
Work when nobody cares.
Work when you are doubting yourself.
Work, because to you, work is play.
Push through all resistance.
The lights are never all green.
There is always a reason to stop.
Don’t.

Your actions are a prayer.
You are what you do.
So act like the best version of you.
This is the true power of
Faking it until you make it.
Of embodying your true calling,
Of greatness.

This change will take time.
There is a lag between action and reward.
And when it does come,
It won’t be announced with fanfare.
Growth will be incremental.
Small gains,
Tiny improvements,
Minute advancements.
This is as it should be.

So act.
Act as a prayer to the Gods of functionality.
And have faith.
Faith in the process,
Faith in the future,
Faith in yourself.
And remember,
You are what you do.

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