poetry

Vagrant.

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I see myself in the faces of the homelessness.

I see the long stares and uncertainty in their eyes.

They are we and we are them.

Treading a fine line between have and have not.

I see the hunger, desperation, and worry.

I see the lost love, the failed support, and a state that has abandoned.

They are we and we are them.

The line so fine it hangs on a cliff edge.

I see the need for help and belonging.

I see the pathway to drowned dreams in pools of booze.

They are what we are and we are what they are.

The fine thread line dangling from a torn jacket.

I see the hope in your eyes when human kindness embraces.

I see the joy when words are heard.

You’re like me and I’m like you.

The line between have and have not closer than you know.

I hear your songs, your rants at pigeons, and your belly rumble.

I hear your tears near-silently fall to the floor.

You are me and I am you.

The damn line we crawl in life.

I feel it all.

But not as they do. Not yet.

Maybe soon.

And you’ll be like me, just like you.

And I’ll be you.

Lost in Nature

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Lost in nature, we forgot the time; Chasing mountain hares along a line; Admiring butterflies hanging on fine; This was a day where we forgot the time.

Let out until darkness, we lost our way; Plenty of words we could speak and say; Through flags full of colour we did pray; This was a day we could play our way.

Under stars that shone down on us; Hands in hands feeling the buzz; Taking the moments, each one a plus; Not one feeling deemed superfluous.

These were the places, the times, and the escapes; Swallowed within sprawled landscapes; Every connection spans and takes shapes; These moments, these memories: wonderful escapes.

Battle.

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Read my eyes. Read them carefully.
I heard you. I really got your gist.
I’m not talking. My words are silent.
I am trying to think. And block out your sounds.

I heard every little thing. I am not deaf.
Why are you so unkind? Don’t you see me?
Look at my face. Read the expression.
A plethora of scribbled emotions. Keep out of my path.

Think I’m deaf, do you? Look at me.
Look closer. See my body raging.
See that deep upset. I won’t speak.
I don’t want to erupt. I am close.

I have plenty to say. I hold back.
You push me and push me. And some more.
Keep on pushing and pushing. Pushing the hate.
Nothing positive to say? Thought not.

Can’t you shut up? Think of better words.
Don’t I have feelings? You hurt me.
You really have made me sad. Unbelieveably angry.
I count. Don’t I?

Outside in.

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How do you find yourself when part of you seems lost or missing?

What if being different is the thing you ignore: your greatest strength?

How far into the abyss would you go to protect someone you love?

What if the world doesn’t make sense, would you still abide by the conventional rules?

What if the bravest thing you can be is yourself and no-one else?

Can your gentlest whisper say more than your loudest shout?

Where do you turn when you feel that you don’t fit in anywhere?

Who said being a mature grown-up had to be anything like perfect?

When everything feels torn and twisted, can you still believe in hope?

Is there only one way of life (that’s your own)?

Calling

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Farewell to the stars

My eyes blur with sleep

I don’t invite them on in

Nor do I allow their shouts

I couldn’t hear it

A misdeed so true

I couldn’t feel it

A transgression of angst

A silhouette I am

In a pale concrete box

A Pompeii blast-mark

Solitary without you

Unable to see you

Prevented from calling out

Unable to hear you

I could no longer call

No call possible

Answers no longer reachable

1915

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Guns have won

            Childlike show

God listens no more 

      Debased figures rot

                              Angry

Shorter indented lines

            sense of grim     order

Monstrous ANGER claiming victory

Ripped from life.   Unfriendly

                                    Bittersweet

Disappointed nature of war.   Unobservant

      Ultimate victory of foes by cold steel

The devoutly religious with no time to pray

Ineffectual begging given no moment

                                    Depressed

Order gives way to chaos     loose     unreachable

No survivors walk       the squalid trenches

GOD cannot listen

            Your voice unheard

                                    Helpless

The unfolding scenes of death.     Stripped away.

Erratic sounds in battle

Frequently breaking patterns.

Disruption coupled            to disorder

                                          Tortured

The pain goes on.

Light blues.

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Woke up one morning and the sun refused to shine.

Woke up, head slumped, joined another line.

Got up and went on, but the day didn’t play.

Tried to talk about it but the words I couldn’t say.

Need a little sunshine for the day.

Need a few more rays to shine my way.

Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”

So, send some sunshine and break the grey.

The will to go on heaves less and less.

There are more problems that I must address.

My passion to battle often does regress.

Yet, all I want is your love to bless.

Need a little sunshine for the day.

Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”

Need a few more rays to shine my way.

So, send some sunshine and break the grey.

The drum beats firmer in my ears.

The drumming brings forward all my fears.

Surrounding myself in proverbial beers.

Listening less and less for positive cheers.

Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”

Need a little sunshine for the day.

Need a few more rays to shine my way.

So, send some sunshine and break the grey.

Send the sunshine.

Send it my way.

Send it.

Send it today.

Frustrated

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Pause.

I’m married. Yet alone.

So lonely. Not together.

No hugs. No kisses. Just a phone.

Miss you. Miss one another.

Pause.

Apart. Far away.

Cursed. Dreams on hold.

In limbo every day.

Torture. No hand to hold.

Pause.

Painful. Desperate at times.

Denied a shared life.

Treated like a thousand crimes.

Soul screaming. Cruel bastard strife.

PAUSE.

I’m married. Yet alone.

Pause.

I’m married.

Pause.

Yet alone.

Pause.

Alone.

Williams Duo & Goodwin Too

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Oh, hey now is this a sign?
Have I been here before?
Oh, why should I care?
You can hear the silence drone
I still thirst

I looked for some guidance
Some beauty in my heart
Trying to accept the person I am
God knows it ain’t easy
Who knows the reason why?

Seize the time
Here comes my day in the summer sun
On summer days like these
But it slips through
What did you want?

Farewell friend.

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I want to thank you.

Thank you for opening my eyes.

Opening my eyes to a new lens.

A new lens capturing moments of time.

Moments of time caressing tender memories.

Caressing tender memories that led to this day.

Led to this day when we said farewell.

Said farewell to you and thank you.

Thank you for being here.

Rest peacefully. Good night and God bless. 🕊 🐝

Self-discovery lens.

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We each have bad habits, and it isn’t my place to judge.

I ain’t ever smoked a cigarette, although I’ve breathed in far too many.

My not trying drugs is an issue I won’t ever budge.

Sometimes, my focus loses its antennae.

I am not an alcoholic although I do enjoy an odd drink.

I wouldn’t say I look to fight, even if I feel ready for a hit.

I like to avoid conflict, passing on kicking up a stink.

I can not tell a good joke or come across as full of wit.

I try to give more than I take. Whatever it may cost.

I prize friendship over profits.

I treasure memories but worry about opportunities lost.

I get frustrated at times. Throwing all kinds of fits.

“I’m not a racist but…” No. Not all all. I hate racism.

I’d like to protest but found my hands tied up.

I question capitalist ways, leaning my ears to socialism.

A bully bullies because they’re bullied and hold no club.

I am, however, a disappointment.

I am a disappointment.

I am.

Drawers.

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At the bottom of the unit lies a spring-loaded drawer with all my deepest and darkest utterings and thoughts.

Above that, another drawer, less-sealed, more-opened to tuck away memories warm and cold.

On top of the metaphorically wooden system, a drawer for the here and now. It has future dreams, brewing, and stewing.

One drawer shut tightly contains a world of marvellous thoughts.

Above it is an open shelf of optimism. A sliding glass door keeps in contained. Often, it is open just a tiny sliver.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I can keep everything, but what I need closed.

Mostly, however, my drawers are left open with socks and underpants spilling all over the floor.

If I were Napoleon, I’d shut the drawers and nod off.

I’m not Napoleon.

Words.

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Letters jumbled together to make some sort of sense.

Until they don’t.

Some make you sit up straight, late at night, tense.

Go away, they won’t.

Some are favourites, warm and welcome.

Others are demanding.

A smattering of words you’ll see seldom.

Many are descriptive waterfalls of meaning.

They drop delightfully.

A few unlock secrets and ideas gleaming.

They drop frightfully.

Sentences and words arranged not from simplicity.

There to baffle you.

Newspapers spew words of publicity.

“Words can’t hurt you.”

The toxicity of a word’s elasticity.

Yes, they FUCKING can!

Ferociously delivered weapons of choice.

Venomous sounds.

All the way at you as one voice.

Good old words.

Northern Rail

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Points failure. Delayed.

Late from the depot. Cancelled.

Staff member unavailable. Denied.

Leaves on the line. Complained.

Due to a landslide. Declined.

Snow, ice, fog, and high winds. Failed.

Extreme heat and railway line buckling. Inconvenienced.

Overhead line equipment failure. Uncovered.

Signal failure. Terminated.

Poor Victorian planning ahead for population expansions. Unconvinced.

Heavy volumes of rail traffic.Backlogged.

Overrunning engineering works. Poorly planned.

Speed restrictions in place. Underdeveloped.

Trespassers on the line. Stupid.

Telecoms failure. Apologised.

Animals on the line. Departed.

Lineside fires. Transpired.

Death on the line. Expired.

Another tannoy apology by a robot. Delay repayed.

The good old commute.

Immigration.

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Wouldn’t mind more migration and less borders.

Wouldn’t mind a little less bombing interventions overseas.

Wouldn’t mind peaceful values and ideals before responses get dished out.

Wouldn’t mind capitalism paying more taxes and seeking less havens.

Wouldn’t mind a shoulder to cry on.

Wouldn’t mind a living wage and more opportunities.

Wouldn’t mind fewer inequalities and a smidgen of hope.

Wouldn’t mind a hand of help reaching out to those who need it.

Wouldn’t mind thoughts before actions.

Wouldn’t mind understanding before judgement.

Wouldn’t mind smiles over frowns.

Wouldn’t mind less wealthy controlling corporations.

Wouldn’t mind a boom in small traders.

Wouldn’t mind dreams and dreamers discussing ideals and progress.

Wouldn’t mind more and more and more and more trees.

Wouldn’t mind water so clean you can paddle and drink in the freshness.

Wouldn’t mind the words and wisdom of the deceased generation that loved us all.

Wouldn’t mind no babies in hospitals, displaced by bombs, disease, and warmongering criminality.

Wouldn’t mind translators and cultural exchange bringing people closer.

Wouldn’t mind change.

How about you?

Christmas Eve

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They’re sharing family Christmas photos;

Wishing you all well and greetings for the seasons.

Yet, here, without you, I’m incomplete.

My family’s come is shattered beyond reasons.

The glimmer of hope like the slim chance of snow on a warm winter’s evening;

The last bus approaches on a pathway surrounded by emptiness.

A lone blackbird sings beneath a damp lamppost;

Touched in the heart, I am not in all fairness.

I envy and feel bitter to those who have it all;

I feel happy for each and everyone enveloped in family.

Yet, here, without you, I’m still incomplete.

For too long now, I suffocate in calamity.

Wreaths hug doors and trees sparkle in light;

Hearing carols on the street, my stomach flutters.

Yet, there and here, I cannot find a way out;

I feel bleakness, struggling to rise from the gutters.

To be found.

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I used to smile.

Instead, my face creases like contours from a map.



I used to laugh.

Now jokes pass over me like Arctic winds on the tundra.



I used to chuckle and gleam.

It’s all replaced by a seemingly eternal cold emptiness.



I used to preach hope.

But for all its worth, I let go of that dream.



Before today, I was strong.

I slink down beneath a door frame, unable to open the handle, and let myself in.



Before today, I sought new songs.

Yet now most seem overplayed and all the same: repeat after repeat after repeat.



Before today, I had ambitions.

They slipped away, leaving an endless string of survival day by day.



Before today, I loved the rain.

Now, I greet umbrellas and raincoats and wellies as sanctuary.



Where is the old me?

Lost, maybe.


To be found.

An end.

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Stones roll inwards;

                Passing fiercely;

                                Slamming down violently;

Smashing all in its pathway;

                Tossing and turning;

                                Without discrimination;

                                                Rupturing creation.

Turning solid shapes to shards;

                Presenting passage;

                                From life to the beyond;

Savage and cleansing constructs.

                                An end.