spider

i killed
instinctively
moving before thought
its body crushed under my heel
only in death
could I see
the beauty
of its life

---

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

Mere Imaginings

Almost everything
I remember
Of you
Are mere imaginings

Just the stories
Shared
Of a man
Long gone
Made real
By the desperate
Longings of a son
To feel
Something
Anything
For his father
Other than shame

My dwindling pride
Clinging
To the hope
That perhaps
You were once
Something more
Than the shell
You became

I tell them
I never knew that man
That those memories
Are not mine
Yet now
Those lies
They are all I have of you
Beyond the small scatterings
Of pain
I learnt to forget

---

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

terrified of nothing

this morning i woke
terrified of nothing
my anxiety already overworking itself
working me up to a state of near panic
i tried remembering that i am safe
it didn’t help
i tried breathing slowly
but i couldn’t
so my body tried to vomit out the nonexistent toxins of which it believed itself afflicted
i doubled over
i feel to my to my knees
and expelled everything
and in the slight pause
between the release
and the wiping of the mess off my beard
i had moment of reflection
i began to laugh
how silly i thought
to be so afraid of nothing
how ridiculous is my anxiety!
what a joke!
looking down at last nights dinner
i felt empowered
but that empowerment was quickly quashed
a dead weight in the depths of my gut began to form
a weight so heavy that even the most adamant
of retching couldn’t dislodge
the laughter ended
new thoughts replaced old
and i realised
that true nothingness
is beyond terrifying
that the opposite of fear isn’t calm
the opposite of sadness isn’t happiness
the opposite of hate isn’t love
no
the opposite of all of those things
the opposite of everything
is a nothingness so vast
so all encompassing
that i couldn’t comprehend a merest portion
awed by the paradoxical size of the nothingness
i wept
but then i laughed once more
for that weight in my gut
and the sheer terror that it evoked
told me
that for now at least
i am living on the opposite side of the nothingness
my anxiety is right
i should be afraid
but i should also
be grateful of the fact
that i can wake
terrified
vomiting
and unable
to slowly
breathe

---

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

Triggered

I cannot whisper
The words I wish to scream

Tears fall
At the precipice of silence

Unmoving internal chaos
Catatonic rage

Memories of the present
Give way to realities of the past

All again
All at once

Visions flash
To the beat of the body’s rocking

The internal observer
Watches helpless

Why can’t you see I’m suffering?
Don’t you dare touch me

Thank god
For Valium

---

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

Can't Quite Express

There are things that I want to say,
But just can't quite express.
Ruminations and meditations
That I'm too afraid to address.
Like the veil over my eyes
That keeps me hidden from the stress.
To the dark wishes
That I'm fighting to suppress.
Like the fear and anxiety
That I will constantly transgress.
To the past expressions
That I am never going to confess.
Like how everything I do
Gives me nothing but duress.
To the unwavering ache and torment
That’s causing me to regress.

I must profess, I desire to express my stress
Confess to address this abscess, to obsess on
Happiness, to aim for excess and to stop
Living like a fucked-up mess.

Yes, I want to make progress but there are just
Some things that I can't quite express.

---

This poem is from the book Can’t Quite Express

i’m worth keeping

upon waking
i’m dismayed to discover myself already breaking
thoughts preaching
lights beaming
whispered voices that feel like screaming

i find myself fleeing
huddling in a corner
counting heartbeats
shallow breathing

i can actually feel my rationality leaving
whatever i was is now just dissociated dreaming

i long to find meaning
behind these tears now streaming
but all i can muster is passive disbelieving

i thought such pain was leaving
i thought i was a book worth reading
i thought by sharing and speaking
my days would be filled with more than just ink bleeding

time passes and i hear my kids pleading
they want their dad
not some broken mess stuck self-defeating

time to put on the mask and pretend that the world has stopped screeching
that my thoughts are no longer scheming
and that my pain is receding

but then they hug me and tell me i’m worth keeping
they jump and laugh with smiles gleaming
inviting me to play
requesting
repeating
a loving greeting worth receiving

the world softens
stuck turns fleeting
colour returns
that unmovable block retreating
tension releasing
light increasing
clear seeing

i hold them
and commit to continue proceeding
today was hard
but sometimes just surviving counts as succeeding

---

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

These Words

These words
Are such a limp expression
Of the rage
You’ve evoked
Within me

You cannot fathom
The pain I could induce
Were I to yield
The full weight of my mind
Upon the sole task
Of destroying yours

---

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

The Mountain

If I knew
How hard
I’d have to work
In order
To not have to
Work so hard
I’d have probably
Settled for a day job

Only now
Do I realize
Just how tall
The mountain
Truly is
And how strong
I’ll have to be
To climb it

Nonetheless
I am grateful
For my ignorance
For it made me
Strong enough
To believe
That I can become strong enough
To make it
To the top

---

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

The Candle Burns

The candle burns
Giving light
Giving warmth

By fulfilling its function
It destroys itself
By destroying itself
It serves others

The candle burns
Sacrificing itself
For us

---

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

Seen Through Their Eyes

Seen through their eyes
my father’s shame
a new disguise.
Their questions,
first responded to by lies,
then by compromise,
and finally by a summarize
of all the things I despise.

Somehow they are surprised
to find me so compromised,
so paralyzed,
So utterly debilitized
with my inability to
sit analyzed
and scrutinized
and demoralized
and so clearly despised.

Of course they’ve taken offence
at my dropping of the pretense.
How could I have been so dense
to think they could handle my defense,
to think they’d want me to get off the fence,
to think they’d want my two cents?
Yes I’m intense.
Yes my pain presents as a nuisance.
Yes my demons are immense.
It’s common sense
All they see is my father in me.
How’s that for a recompense?

---

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