i drift

i drift

away from you
and
from the parts of me
that know i am drifting

only later
do i see
my wake

i hear your words
i see your pain
i know you’re suffering

logically
i realise
that you
need me

it doesn’t help
me to connect

i drift

painful realities
dissipate upon arrival

i drift

directionless
and
devoid of meaning

a raft
without a sail
oblivious to nature’s whims

i am corrupted
by
the act
of forgetting
the act
of forgetting

the pain
is saved
for later

i drift

---

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

Here Lies My Head

There’s something wrong with my head,
Chaos overwhelms when I pull the thread.
Nothing’s real and my rationality’s fled.
When I turn inwards and face the dread.
Mental landmines impact my tread,
Realisations growing like bacteria bred.
Answers to questions best left unsaid.
Like how come what happened in that bed,
Is less confronting than what was said?
Or why you were all silent whenever I plead,
Whenever I withdrew, and whenever I bled?
Or who would I be were I not shred?
Dead or alive, it all feels the same,
My vision clouded red.
Fed lies and shamed, misled and blamed.
Instead of love I was led into fear.
Crossbred reality with fiction, with you the godhead.
My anger disparaged, an outburst unread, just a hothead,
Stoking the fire of my heart, molten lead.
Left me burning, a stomach warhead.
Left me confused, with no cred
‘Ability to explain my pain, or why I spread
Myself around for anyone’s gain, or why I wish for anything else instead.

It’s time for a re-tread. To face the dread of the bed and what was said. To destroy the godhead, to pull the thread, to get out of my head, to retract the mislead, to remove the lead, to heal where I bled, to put onto the page all that’s unread, and to forgive the boy who couldn’t have fled.

Here lies my head.

---

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

He Accepts

He accepts the world as it is
Never asking for much
beyond a smile and a hug.

Unruffled by change,
Volume, voice, or visage.
He embraces you for who you are.

Happiness is never far from him.
Small accomplishments
yield disproportionate joy.

Just a look will change his entire world,
And in doing so cause
His unfiltered response to change yours.

---

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

For As Long As I Have Eyes

I dream of flowing lines,
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas,
Dripped into life,
Pulled forth from my mind,
The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment
Captured for eternity,
Or at least for as long as I have eyes
To see what I’ve made.

But that vision
Is a just as much of a lie
As these words upon a page.
For they never were written,
Merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogy problem.

I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds,
None his own,
None his hone,
None he wants to return to,
None he wants to live through.

I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance.
A way to persist.
A way to function.

But to what end?

The answer comes
Calling out,
‘Daddy let me show you something!’

---

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

Fleeting

Eyes meet
A fleeting moment
Futures fractal
Possibilities endless

Turn away
A moment passes
Fading memories
What can never be

---

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

Chaotic Beauty

A chaotic beauty,
A trusting soul,
Mother’s love for all.

She’s seen things,
And survived worse,
Feeling it all.

A chaotic passion,
A new goal,
Abundance for her soul.

She’s taking action,
Making her mark,
Becoming her all.

---

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

autumn leaves

the earth sighs
autumn leaves
beautiful in death
fall discarded
left to decay
until the earth
takes another breath

---

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

An Apology To The Future

As elders
We suffer
The pain
Of our pasts

Niggles become nuisance
Ignorance becomes issue
Beauty becomes blemish

Choices
Made long ago
Become the chains of our present

Back then
I was free
To take any path
Oblivious of consequence

Now
Having walked those paths
Those consequences
Force me to keep walking

An adult
Bound
By the decisions
Of a child

I am
Who I am
Only because
I was
Who I was

Will future me
Resent these words?

Or will I look back
As I do now
With compassion
Knowing I did my best
With what I had?

All I can offer is
An apology
To the future

I am sorry
For the pain
My choices
Will bring you

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

A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

---

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

a waterfall shaping rock

thoughts
relentless
a waterfall shaping rock

each drop
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

time
forms ruts
inescapable

consciousness
relentless
a river scarring land

each choice
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

thinking patterns
guiding future
flow

---

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