Poetry Blogs (voices)
the voice comes to me
as a phantom in a dream.
as i write
the voice channels
from him to me.
to staring at the sea,
to the house
that no longer carries
his childhood dreams.
vacanies searching for occupation
from passing through stations
to platforms holding onto memories,
all of it comes to me.
in my internal screenplay,
is he the playwright
Thursday 29th October 2020 4:21 pm
Because I can no longer kiss you
no longer feel your skin
beneath my fingers
or hear you in the night
Because I can no longer call you
no longer sound your name
beneath my breath
or hear you whisper soft
Because I could not stop time passing
could not return time's sand
beneath its glass
or heal the wounds of time
Because I could not hold you here
could yet y...
Friday 28th December 2018 2:18 pm
When I wonder what's wrong
When I think whats going on
A Voice said 'this is what you did
Not much love exists to feed.
Tides will not change the future
Might just believe it, forever
Believed that the eyes I see
Truth in them will set me free.
Taking a huge dose of the drug
Never know what's beneath the rug
Chemical changes inside me
They will not let me be.
Let me be the free bird fl...
Sunday 15th July 2018 6:18 pm
i am alone, and as i drown they mock my pain
they drop stones in my satchel
they slash my open wounds to watch me bleed
they throw knives at my face hoping i'll break
and yet i dont
i smile and i move through life and sometimes i cry but yet i dont
i sit home (alone) and scream but my voice echoes
my voice seeps through the cracks in the window and through the empty halls
and once again ...
Friday 19th May 2017 7:55 pm
The preacher man was there.
Advising, guiding providing prayer.
He keeps himself hidden away
Wise words from him today.
The better place he beckons me to
transcendent mythical city for few.
His heaven is closer dragged in.
Going along he can never win.
He isn't there
He is no where
He is strong
He is right
I am weak
I am lost
I am gone
I am here
The preacher man was there...
Wednesday 17th May 2017 7:50 pm
Here I sit with a candle lit
As I rest and wait to commit.
To a life of blue skies and angels,
As I try to ignore the pain sensation.
Whilst being overcome with isolation.
Trying in vain to think of happy thoughts,
As the devil looks on and applauds,
And laughs and jeers right in my face,
Since he knows that he is winning the race,
As he picks up a faster pace....
Wednesday 6th July 2016 11:24 pm
I open as Sylvia Plath
Cock my eye
By breakfast I am Ginsberg
My cereal howls
Sex and Jazz
Trashcans rust and curl
I leave the house as Wordsworth
And wonder lonely through a crowd
Arrive at the track as Bukowski
Gamble on the lunchtime horses
Smoking a cigarette
A sparrow sings
As the day wears on
I am Cummings...
Tuesday 7th July 2015 11:57 am
I've wondered at the pain inside
I've wondered at the choices
I wonder about the boy that died,
and why I never lost the voices.
Sunday 9th November 2014 11:12 am
An evening, sitting, wanting, ripping, blackening.
An acerbic wind.
Wait for the train and the glut of passengers to spill out.
The end, endless encircling madness, himself in the wilderness.
Girls, Judas and their selfish wives, lives pass, suck Jesus.
In his selfish mask.
Tormented, pushed down, I’m full: kill, hell thoughts.
Giggle to stifle grief, uncomfortable familiar family and perfe...
Thursday 28th November 2013 1:06 pm