Abyss

Slowly
Gently
I realise
I am falling
Into the abyss
That I created

Why can’t you hear my silent screaming?

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

A System Of Inequality

We live
In a system
Of inequality

So utterly brainwashed
Into believing our failures
Stem from inability
To operate within the system
Not the system itself

But what choice do we have?

Who are we
To question
The very system
That raised us?
That fed us?
That educated us?

How can we possibly
Step outside
The paradigm
Of our reality?

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

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

Anger

My shame
At having you
As my father
Has become
Anger
Directed towards myself
For failing my children
In the same ways
You failed me

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

Let’s Pledge To Repair

I know you care
And that you’ll always be there
But our intimacy?
It’s threadbare
Our bodies are no longer aware of the softness we would once share
It’s unfair
That the first thing to go was caress of one another’s hair
And the impromptu hugs that came from anywhere
No one is to blame
We just became distracted by stress’s snare
And focused on our children’s welfare
I know it’s wrong to compare
But I know we both miss the fanfare
The tender words that would soothe any nightmare
The love we would declare
And the time we would spare
So please
Take my hands
Let’s pledge to repair
To once again become a pair
To take time together no matter where
And no matter what events snare
Let’s swear
To take time daily and simply stare
Into each other’s eyes
Into each others hearts
To see each other bare
Let’s choose to share the same air
To take those gestures now rare
And gift them everywhere
To help each other up the stairs
To listen to the despair
To sit together in prayer
To love
And to be aware
Does that sound fair?

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

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

The Confines Of Your Mind

Step outside
The confines
Of your mind
And realise
That perception
Cannot be defined

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

A Day Without Fear

I fear death
But
I fear dying
Having never lived
A day
Without fear
More

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

A Simulacrum of Thought

Every morning
I rise with the sun
Watching with awe
The soft vibrancy
Of cloud and colour

Each sunrise uniquely its own
Yet so similar
That its subtlety
Is often lost

A simulacrum of thought
Overlayed upon reality
Obscuring the beauty
Of the moment

How much of life
Have I lost
In this way?

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

I'm 'Fine'

I’m fine …
Actually, I'm really struggling.
I feel anxious and depressed.
My head hurts.
I'm so tired.
I can't hold down a job.
It feels like my life is slowly falling apart.
I'm not lazy, I am sick.
I know I look normal.
No, I can't prove this to you.
My illness is invisible.
Yes, I have good days,
No that does not mean that I'm faking the bad ones.
I'm not looking for attention.
I'm still learning my limitations.
I see the glances, hear the comments and feel shamed.
I didn’t ask for this and I don’t deserve this.
Yet here I am, and I am certainly not
‘Fine’.

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly