Poetry Blog by Natfastic


Backwards is forwards

covered up in a lie

Falling is flying

whilst not feeling so high

Perspective is tricking

your stubborn minds eye

Til you get to the part

where you don't have to try.

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Mini tusk trunk

I was isolated in the undergrowth 

at the height of a precipice.

I was isolated and grasping a blade.

I was frightened and ready to kill

at any second. Then a Wise

in a shiny, glossy cloak appeared

on the path and said not to be scared

but to expose myself, so I did.

Tentatively we creeped along the road

and came to a mirror pool with dirt. 

There was a small, mini tu...

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You never really know someone.

We are all strangers living in the same room

sitting in different well worn seats.

A jigsaw puzzle bought from a charity shop

with missing pieces - disappointing.

We each make misguided plugs for the holes 

to tell our story, paint it on.

One room two minds four eyes.

One lonely heart we all are

to some extent. 



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Scuttle Pincer

I was shimmying treading down a road worn in a group of trees fresh. I listened sensed a water trickle and then spied took in a giant great ruby vibrant crossover gateway. On the other edge opposite was a massive overbearing scuttle pincer. I was fearful anxious but felt like I didn't want to be shakey hesitant. I climbed shuffled on to it's hind shell and it transported moved me to this land worl...

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It's working

Who knows

if what you're doing is

for my own good or just



But it's working.

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Cosmopolitan brightness

My love viscious caught a small cute.

Together, love thought it was dead but then

it came back to life but it was in a lot of pain.

Happy, alone, loud, meaning "I need to put it out

of it's misery". So I have, hold, sharp, heavy and 

harsh - quick on its head. Put it out of it's

misery. Then I was in a space, square with 

loads of different types of together different. 

We ...

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When you're on the road

with no headlights

and it's pitch black

with no match

to grind a spark


and its darker than

the darkest dark

you've ever seen


you're forced to reach 

inside and up not

down and remember that

you've been here once

or twice before and found




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Here and Now


like a scratched record trying to play a song.


I see

the fuzzy, garish pattern of my winter throw;

ink hitting the page as my hand elegantly

swishes pen across paper; posters of 

happiness and spirituality hung haphazardly

and the slapdash reflection of my bedroom



I hear

the silent hum of a distant streetlight

fused with general elect...

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Working in a prison

Working in a prison

is stifling.

I thought that it might be 


But two years 5 months,

it gives me goosebumps

and now I want something

less frightening.


I thought it would give me


and it certainly has been

an experience.

I wake up each day

and I'm filled with dismay;

what I do doesn't have

much significance.


I'm work...

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Chill the fuck out

Chill the fuck out

Full the chick out

Let it go mother fucker

Go it let fucker mother

Rigidity is the mother of all frigidity

Frigidity is the father of all rigidity

Uber control is discomfort in disguise

Disguise is comfort, this is lies

Lean into what feels shit

And let it let it let it




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He, um

He, um

stares just a little too long.

There's a wetness to his eyes;

a wound

a desperateness.

He's, um

a little too eager.

He unerves me

and not in the way

that I long for.

Dare I say it?

Repulsion - 

his subtle

not so subtle


I look away

way before I once


Little boy lost

I would try to

find him.

Now I know 


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A new strength has found me;

Anger born into sheilds

of subtle protection -

I will not be tamed.

You are the Antichrist

And now I know it

Without hesitation

I shall let my inner fire




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Stood at the bus stop

I feel you


You move me


Today I didn't want to

Feel sadness


You drain me


If I didn't empathise

So efficiently

So readily

So often


Maybe I'd have more

To give. 


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...go get the girl some boxing gloves

She stands on her pins

while their square chins are shining.

She looks to the crowd

in her desperateness pining


and she smiles like a fake

'cause that's all that she's good for,

while they flash and they talk

and parade her about more.


All in this day and age?!

Is it really, for fucks sake?!

That a girl can just stand by

in Lycra and Fake Bake



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I really need to nail this down

I may not fit into a neat little box

or strut around like a cunning fox

all of the time or maybe even part

and the more I try to play the game

the more it hurts my heart.


But I really need to nail this down.





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Undulating rhythmic bears.

Those tiny little plastic tubes.

Hair follicles zoomed in on 

so much that they look like

scaley columns.


Neediness that plugs in 

without my permission.

The cat's purr that rolls.

Matt lipstick and space cadets.


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My Song

I will put my song in a basket

and send it up to the moon.

For it is quiet up there

and will be heard in its entirety.


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Jungle -

You sang to me

and I felt no fear.

I was at the epicenter of you -

you lured me there under false pretenses,

made me quiet.


Faces were more true

in your firelight and dripping leaves.

Warrior or coward,

the jungle levelled

left no stone unturned.


When you sent me your king 

to teach me loyalty and swag,

I rode undeserving on his back.


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Whatever you do...

....don't only show the parts of me

you feel comfortable remembering.

I was an asshole too you know.

Yes, you do.


Don't fluff me up, 

put on airs and graces.

There's nothing graceful in that.

It seems more vulgar to me. 


Don't cry because you have to.

No, you don't.

Not if you don't feel it spontaneously.


I have spent my life questing for the truth.


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A bear stands on all fours

stares at me knowingly

not knowing what to do

not having to.


Seen, he flows like the

strands of a delicate

buttercup in breezes

flocked, he freezes.


And strong on his back legs 

he rises, tilts his head

surprises, enters me in 

subtle shifts


he paralyses,

sets me free.

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A Learning Love

Learning -

You are my captor

You captivate me

You are Captain of my ship;


The catalyst for my lust for life

My one true curve

My calling.


Learning -

There will be no learning

To love you.

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Well, I wrote a little ditty

that the wind did blow away

and it really is a pity

for I had something to say.


Now the sentiment's passed by me

and I can't think of the words

that are on some current likely

up there soaring with the birds.


See, a thought is temporary

and creation often strikes

like some lightening in a great flash

then it gets off on it's b...

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Sausages you say?

Sausages you say?

You say, "hooray hooray for sausage day"!

A sausage a day keeps the peanuts away and the peanuts are evil and sausage haters.

Haters of the sausage must be irradicated at all costs for the sausage is the law of the land.

And a sausage in my hand is worth more than one in the muff.

Oh guff! I've gone all saucy with my sausage related sorcery.

Hmmmmm it's made of ...

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Inspired by Colin Hill

If is iffy.

If is squiffy.

If is sometimes rather 


But if is annoying.

Do you know the muffin man? The one who lives on the other road down there somewhere, can't really remember where but think it's the second on the left.

I know nothing about anything except that I am the master​ of my soul.

Soul is like a bowl of soup.

It's hot and tasty when its home made;


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Self pity looks

shit on me.


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The Shining

What if I shone?


What if, in shining,

I made you dull;



Dim enough

to blame me for

taking something

not mine.


Not mine

- I know - but is not

scarce or ending

or owned.


What if I shone?


What if I - not just -

condoned my power,

but enthroned it?


What if it reminded

you of yours,

'til we both soared?


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Take Me to India

Stood in the perfumery section,

whisps of wonderment waft past

expectant nostrils as I wait eagerly

to be transported, transformed.

Take me to India, to the spice

markets and dine with me. Take

me to France, to lavender fields

and walk with me in finery. Take

me to Egypt, to cotton sheets

and lie with me. Flower buds, old

loves, white doves, nectar dew and


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I am sat wrapped in a towel

and I've stayed indoors all day.

So, I've just let out a howl

to the moon that's out to play.


'Cause I'm better late at night

when the people are in bed

and my fangs are shining bright;

free to paint the whole town red.


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I'm addicted to the waiting,

to the trying to work it out,

to the pain.


The pain is safer.


I'm addicted to his fucking


his non-committal attitude,

his arrogance.


Give a dog a bone.


I'm addicted to the possibilities,

the what ifs,

the promises,

the uncertainty and doubt.


Like a part healed scab.


I'm addicted to th...

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You irritate me.


I listen to your empty words

rattle on without saying


either of us.


My nothing is bewildered


yours is detail.


I want to move you on,

save you,

slap you,

shake you.


This feeling is too strong

to just be you.


You are not me.


This is not you.


Your presence as a doormat

is so convi...

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Weathering Heights

entry picture

She was out of the window

She was up on the roof

She was sitting on pylons

She was somewhat aloof.


She was on wings of airplanes

She was flying with kites

She was in a balloon race

She was weathering heights.

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It's not talked about

this monster

that inhabits my body



Though it whistles through ears;

shrieking out of every orifice,



People look shocked.


I'm at a loss with it, this

dark daemon

haemorrhaging heavily all

happy thoughts, here

just a day before.


I've tried it all, surely -


smiling through,

'letting ...

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Recurring Nightmare

I dreamt I'd killed, then buried deep

the memories that slyly seeped

like pricking pins in eyes that saw

me hurt, then kill, then hurt some more.


When I awoke I did not know

if the cellar parts were true or faux.

My parts were there, sure,

tacked to brick -

to prick

to prick

to prick.


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Palm Trees in the Snow

I stumbled across a film -

it made me humble.

It had subtitles

but I didn't fumble

over the story

one little bit.


It spoke to me of timelessness

of the cruelty of man

and the gentleness.

How two shades of each -

and skin - can exist

on the same island​

in the same heart

of the same kin.


How love can never be


or questioned

or torn...

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Twat Face




A menagerie of vulgar words

just for you - twat face!


My name is Nat ("Nice Nat" they say) -

till you shat all over my mood;

left me subdued with your



Oh, how you frolicked



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Shiny Red Shoes

Shiny red shoes,

shiny red cheeks;

I stood on a table

of full-brimmed pride,

twirling adoration

into sunbeams.

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Thoughts are not actions.

Do not be afraid.

They are fleeting clouds

on a free horizon.

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The Dark Night of My Soul

I have undone all that was did.

Unhidden truths sheathed 

in a thick scum of unchallenged facts;

traditions wreathed with fairy tales,

stories, visions; bland adults

dressed as fantastical beings

on some scrambled saving mission.


Which is crueler?

Who the hell can know?

After all, there is no reason

for it to be or not be so.


Though, I have drilled down


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Crap Poem

Here is a crap poem

             just for you



                      and unpoetic

but from the heart 

      no less














just because,


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Asking For Help

I was blown away

by your love and care

when I finally let you

be there.



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'Twas a tailback

on the M6 -

no sight ahead

due to traffic's



We formed one.


Came off where we could

then stood gabbing

like we never would have

had we not conjoined

by frustration's unplanned





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The Psychic's Bible

Create yourself a bubble

fill it with light

let roots dig

like synapses;

knowledge of Earth

knowledge of worth.


I've always had this

Psychic's Bible

in my smallest pocket

wheels spinning dim;

fear of the unknown

hiding the gold zone.








crystal balls





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Let faith

gather cells

that have

thus far



all over















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Recent Comments

Trevor Alexander on Strangers (14 days ago)

220August on Strangers (Mon, 6 Nov 2017 09:21 pm)

220August on Here and Now (Mon, 6 Nov 2017 02:46 pm)

Rose Casserley on Faith (Fri, 27 Oct 2017 12:36 am)

Jon on Here and Now (Sun, 15 Oct 2017 04:25 pm)

steve pottinger on Here and Now (Thu, 12 Oct 2017 02:16 pm)

Natasha Townsend on Here and Now (Wed, 11 Oct 2017 10:14 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Working in a prison (Tue, 10 Oct 2017 12:06 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Here and Now (Tue, 10 Oct 2017 12:00 pm)

Philip Stevens on Working in a prison (Mon, 2 Oct 2017 09:08 pm)

Rose Casserley on Chill the fuck out (Sun, 1 Oct 2017 07:51 pm)

Rose Casserley on Chill the fuck out (Sun, 1 Oct 2017 07:42 pm)

Natasha Townsend on Chill the fuck out (Sun, 1 Oct 2017 07:29 pm)

Rose Casserley on Chill the fuck out (Fri, 29 Sep 2017 11:45 pm)

Colin Hill on He, um (Sun, 24 Sep 2017 09:13 am)


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