Suffering Without Hope

One day I will wake
To find you hanging
Above a letter

I won’t need to read it
I already know why

You tell me daily

Different words
Same truth

Suffering without hope

I find myself
Silently mourning
A death
That’s yet to happen

Unable to stop
The inevitability
Of your choice
Despite knowing
You are making it

I should do more
But there’s nothing more I can do

Other than wait

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

I’ve Sold You My Soul

With this book
I’ve sold you my soul
Put myself on display
Showing you my whole

Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After my father’s toll
A prostitution of pain
A sympathy payroll

Here
Do you see the hole?
What was left
After her thoughtless console
A pitiful attempt
To reclaim what he stole

I wrote this for me
There’s no other goal
Love it or hate it
Fuck you all

No
Not you dear reader
Just those close to me
Those who chose to troll
Those who attempted to control
Those who don’t know me at all

No
For you I extol
The healing granted
By planting the flag pole
Open your mind to gaze upon your soul
Write
Take back control
Step through the keyhole
Put it on the page
And remake yourself
Into a stronger whole

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

Candle

I’d like to be able to claim
That none can hold a candle
To your brilliance
But the truth is
They are but mere candles
Before you

Their light
Only blinding
Against darkness
Only blinding
In your absence

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

Once More

Once more
I wake
Finding myself adrift
Lost in thoughts
Of things
That will never happen
That can never happen

An ocean of possibility
Extends in every direction
Yet I fear
Leaving the safety
Of the anchor
Of the known

Once more
I wake
Finding myself both
Aimlessly drifting and unequivocally struck
Chastising myself
For not staying still
For not moving on

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

Not Safe

It’s not safe
For me to be alone
But it’s not pleasant
To be in my company

So how can I
Ask for you
To waste this day
Comforting me?

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

Modern Day Peasants

You
and I
Are just
Modern day
Peasants

Convinced
By capitalism
To needlessly want

Controlled
By inflation
To pointlessly save

Coerced
By religion
To endlessly argue

The farm
Replaced by a cubicle
The hoe
Replaced by a chair
The grime
Replaced by paperwork

We
Are trapped
Idolizing
Those who escaped
The trap
The very system they now uphold

We devour news
As if we
Have any power
To act on it
Believing
That if we at least know
We will somehow survive
The next apocalypse
Our rulers say
They are protecting us from

We pretend
That the weekend is life
And that our work
Has meaning

We pretend
That we have fulfilled
The dreams
Of our childhood

We pretend
Because if we don’t
We will realize
We are
Modern day peasants

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

Nevertheless

I’m scared
Of what your love
Will cause me to
Face about myself

Nevertheless

I’m confident
That your love
Will guide me
Safely through

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

Life To Avoid

Coffee to wake
Instagram to connect
Porn to cum
Alcohol to relax
Weed to create
Coke to play
MDMA to love
News to inform
Sugar to distract
Mushrooms to pray
Valium to calm
Melatonin to sleep

Life to avoid

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

In Your Absence

I can’t quite express
The confusion and the mess
That’s been left
In your absence
Why didn’t you confess
The demons that had you possessed?
Why couldn’t you
Escape the thoughts that had you depressed?
Why was this the only way you could address
The aspects of life that you detest
that had you dispossessed?
Perhaps if you got some of it off your chest
The world wouldn’t be one man less
One man that blessed it with his presence
Now all who knew you are left to digest
News of death’s caress via a self-inflicted process
We can’t protest
We can only attest
To the pain and existential unrest
Of the hole your life has left

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

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

Expectations

While it’s never
As bad
As you think
It will be

It’s also
Never as good
As you remember
It to be

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

enough

why can’t
it be enough
to accept
that my life
simply is?

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

Don’t Let Me Ruin You

I will tell you
That
I have your best interests
At heart

And I do

I will tell you
That
My critiques are meant
To help

And they are

I will tell you
That
I am working
For us

And I am

I will tell you
That you are holding yourself back
That you are embarrassing yourself
That you aren’t living to your fullest potential
That you can do more
That you need to relax
That you should forgive yourself
That you are worthy of love
That you are close to greatness
That you are my everything

I will tell you
How to fix your problems

And you will listen
Any you will change
And you will be ruined

By me
Unintentionally

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

Complementing The Future

By complementing the future
She crafted the present.
Her words revealing a truth
Others couldn’t yet see.
Not for lack of trying,
But because she hadn’t yet spoken.
The truth was merely a dream,
Waiting for her birth it into reality.
Now here, its eternal nature is manifest.
The future, now present, informs the past,
And thus, her words were true before she ever spoke them.

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

Worthy

Perhaps
With time
I’ll be able
To change myself
Enough
To be worthy
Of your love

Because
I know
Who I am
Right now
Isn’t even
Worthy enough
To be
In your presence

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

Trapped

I find myself trapped
By the very rituals
I made to survive

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

That Comes With A Question

There is a twisting
An internal shifting
A tangential listing
That comes
With a question of existing

There is a thirsting
An internal enlisting
A tangential resisting
That comes
With a question of persisting

There is a wanting
An internal insisting
A tangential manifesting
That comes
With a question of coexisting

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

The Knife Of Hypocrisy

The knife of hypocrisy
Cuts deep
My shadow’s blood
Leaks
Painting an already ruined floor

The boat’s mooring
Has come undone
Now we drift
Upon the whims of a moon
Covered by cloud

The dehydrated man
Dares not drink
Because he knows
He cannot swim

The monkey
Rages in the cage
He created for himself

The ant
Toils with its fellows
Oblivious of the destruction
Left in the wake
Of their queen’s rage

I write
Words on a page
Knowing they will never be understood
By those
Who inspired them

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

Toward Eternity

The small
Quiet voice
Asked me to write
Of the highest of callings.

That I should turn my gaze towards the gods.

That I should speak of grandeur, greatness and glory.

I was not moved.

No words came,
Other than these few;

I feel nothing
But the sun upon my skin,
The dirt under my feet,
And weight of this moment
Stretching toward eternity.

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