POETRY

Living expressions of inner work. Offered as a glimpse of the process towards radical self-acceptance, healing, and growth.

Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

Lickety-Split

 

I wanna quit
I’m just not with it
Feeling like shit
Feeling like a misfit
An unfit and unlit hypocrite
In need of a refit

No longer with the energy to commit
Unable to continue sharing my wit
Unable to continue to submit
Unable to fulfil his holy writ

A social counterfeit
A fool with his brain split
Someone who’s no longer legit

Some kinda halfwit
Rolling without a permit
In need of a babysit

I’m unfit
An empty tool kit
A horse without its bit
A victim that’s gaslit
A plane without a cockpit
A radio with nothing to transmit

Guilt that’s impossible to acquit
Pain that I can no longer omit

Not without a wrist slit

Not without a friend to get close-knit
Someone that allows me to admit
All of my turmoil and bullshit
Someone with the necessary grit
To make the darkness sunlit
Someone that won’t just split
The moment I fall into a pit

If that’s you, please send help, lickety-split

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

 
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Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

Why?

 

Why does it feel like I’m all alone?
Like my house isn’t my home,
Like I’m running from the unknown?

Why does it feel like it shouldn’t be this way?
Like my nerves are on display,
Like I’m living as prey?

Why does it feel like my mind’s full of trash?
Like my intentions are ash,
Like I’m hoarding my father’s stash?

Why does it feel like I’m under attack?
Like my actions lack,
Like I’m waiting for a smack?

Why does it feel like it will never end?
Like my words offend,
Like I’m expected to pretend?

Why does it feel like everyone is lying?
Like my dreams are dying,
Like I’m only supported when crying?

Why does it feel like these words aren’t enough?
Like my life isn’t so rough,
Like I’m creating demons from fluff?

Why does it feel like I’m a total fraud?
Like my soul just wants you to applaud,
Like I’m fundamentally flawed?

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

 
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Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

Let Me Be Me

 

I look different from the inside.

I know what you see,
But you don’t know what I hide,
You think it’s just smiles and glee.

Really I don’t feel safe to confide,
Cause’ I’ve got demons you see.

They cajole, sow doubts and chide,
Making me question what it is to be me.

Showing my faults, destroying my pride,
Highlighting how I act differently.

They remind me of when I cried,
And make me think all fuzzy.

They suggest I shouldn’t have tried,
Confusion they guarantee.

I just want to be free,
To be and to be me.
To not worry about what you see,
Or wanting to flee,
Or to fit some unspoken decree.
What’s the key?
Can thee enlighten me?

Or should I hide inside,
Bide my time and chide?
Swallow my pride and wish I’d simply died?
Please confide, be my guide,
And give me what I’ve been denied.

Ah, I see, you lied.
You see me as debris.

You barely even tried,
Before making me feel crappy.

‘Cause you were the one who cried
And spoke with such irony. 

Like it was me who beat your backside,
And me who raised you absently,
And me who caused your family to divide,
And me who acted grotesquely,
And me who failed to provide,
And me who never gave an apology.

No, I’ve said sorry.
My actions weren’t justified.
But I am not them and I will never be.

Don’t you see?
You need therapy.
I’m not being snide,
Because in this, you are just like me.

Confide in an expert.
Tell them your story.
Share what you were denied,
Open up and actually let someone inside.

Ah, I see you lied.
You don’t want recovery, just an excuse to hide.
I have tried, and it didn’t work,
So please set me free, and
Let me be me.

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

 
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Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

The Darkness Fuels Them

 

The battle lines are drawn
I turn inwards
They snarl
Bearing teeth
All too big for their mouths

They curse
They cajole
They threaten
They remind me of their brethren
The victors of the last war

The darkness fuels them
My fear fuels them
They surround me
Attacking from behind
Infiltrating my defences

I fall
My mind closes in
All seems lost
But then I remember
I have been here before

I know their tactics
I know their weaknesses
I know their game
Just deception
Just intimidation

I turn and face them
Staring them down
My gaze is illuminating
Golden rays of light
Shatter their advance

I begin the hunt
Snarls turns into shrieks
Shrieks turns into bargaining
Bargaining turns into pleading
Pleading turns into silence

I seek out their dens
I destroy their spawning grounds
I cleanse myself
Total victory
Unconditional surrender

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

 
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Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

Other Than Here

 

The inner storm meets outer calm.
A silent fury.
Impotent rage not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner fog meets outer clarity.
A quiet constriction.
Clear thought not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

The inner grime meets outer cleanliness.
A mute warning.
Functionality not expressed.

Other than here,
Other than now.

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

 
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Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips Poetry, bound to the wings Zachary Phillips

The Newsman's Breath

 

The newsman’s breath,
Just a harbinger of death.
Constructing narratives with
False comparatives.
Corporate goals funding,
Logic holes.
Population dividing,
Conspiracy confiding.
Distorting truth,
Radicalising youth.
Their greed trumping
Our need.
Environmental destruction,
Mining construction.
Wage exploitation,
With no contemplation.
The same old story;
Power and glory.

Our only answer?
Revolutionary fervour.
Rioting on the streets,
BLM meets.
Public doxing,
Twitter mocking.
Grudge harbouring
Guillotine sharpening.
Wealth distribution,
Billionaire contribution.
A social awakening,
To a generational failing.

A new world order is needed,
Led by those less conceded.
Those who believe in humanity,
Who are blessed with a semblance of sanity.
People who plant the tree,
That they won’t live to see.
People who care about the children,
Regardless of their colour or origin
People who choose life over stuff,
Who actually can have enough.

Is this idealistic dreaming?
Or realistic future scheming?
What’s the alternative?
To agree with the affirmative.
To accept the status quo,
To look away saying ‘go’.
In my name invade and kill,
In my name do your will.
It can only end if we try,
If we are willing to fight and die.
To stand up and speak our minds,
To break society from its mental confines.

How?
Act now.
Write a letter,
March on a population centre.
Rally support,
Take the corrupt to court.
Speak out,
Get clout.
Subvert the narrative,
Join a collaborative.
Just do something,
Cause right now, you’re doing nothing.

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

 
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