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chris dommett

Updated: Sat, 27 Feb 2010 01:01 am

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ive grown up in and around stockport (greater manchester) ive led quite an adveturous life, some good, some bad. i love to write poetry using imagery but can go through stages where the ideas never seem to come to me. i like to think my poetry can both be read and performed although im not really experienced on the performance side due to my very shy nature. im a long term mental health sufferer but i try not to dwell on this in my poetry but it has given me a new way of thinking about life and other aspects which does seem to help with my poetry. i hope whoever reads or hears my poetry can appreciate it in some form.


The precipice I’m hanging over the precipice of love and you are stood central at its base. I’m overwhelmed by doubts, worries and fears unsure of whether or not to let myself fall inward. You’re creating an ever growing vacuum of positive emotion so strong in its force it’s almost impossible to fight. I look upon you from these heights above, admiring every idiosyncratic ritual in your behaviour. My hearts beat is erratic and my chest wide open, marked by scars from previously wounded muscle. Experiences of life’s failed relationships keep me suspended here, holding me back with the preconceptions of failure. You begin to operate within the gaping chasm of my rib cage, your gentle touch perfectly healing me from all uncertainty. I plummet, dive and fall into your outreached hands, gently cushioned by the embrace which you now hold me in. Your soul has taken me by passion that is boundless, Now I offer you mine so we can live together devoted forever Whisky drinking world Observing a life turned backward as he stares through his curved full bottle of cheap whisky hugging an empty glass with anticipation in the eyes at the thought of reverting his view to the world back to that which comforts him. Glass full, glass empty, repetitively lifting hand to mouth, drowning his body of tremors in an internal bath of elixir, there’s comfort in the burning of the throat and a warming of the soul, hazy distorted views soon hide life’s impurities. Each flow of liquid down the gullet distils the mind to a clearer more elated memory of existence, masking a troubled past and providing a face of carnival celebration, dancing of the hearts pulse begins, thud, thud, thudding in a rhythm, coordinating his out of time movements. The bottle now dry and glass empty, he stares back through this new translucence, the visions now seen were all he wished to recall, haunting ghosts faded to alternate realities, feeling refreshed in this bottle of safety; this ship floating within a shimmery shell sensation. The darker side I embrace the darkness, worship the true beauty of the night feeding off the fear that others feel, rushes of adrenaline shoot to the mind, imagination running wild through my veins. On welcoming in this soulless master I see the side of the moon that nobody sees, the blank bleak expressionless face eating up all the light from the earth. There’s comfort in this solitary madness, the cool chill refreshing in its taste, the rest of the world yawns in their moons silhouette, me, I am only just waking, true character released from this shell of humanities embodiment. In these new found surroundings I have no name, no form of behaviour to abide, freedom in monstrous tendencies overwhelm me in ecstatic highs. All creatures of the dark welcome me as friend, manifestations of unnatural urges emerge naturally in this atmosphere, free to be the beast I am. The nonexistent face of my moon smirks at every sin committed, there’s mischief in the air smelling sweet in its influence, if only this darkness was forever. Mania rules at present, psychotic tendencies are welcomed in but the light will return, suppressing the madness, destroying the real me until the blackness returns. The night retreats in the presence of the sun, with not yet a big enough army to vanquish the brightness to ground, creating forever darkness; forever free. 3 am Strolling pavements in early hours, skies rain trickle, eyes views puddle captured in the lamp light shimmers. A formation of water perfectly misshapen, so still, almost frozen, only centimetres deep. On staring into its glaze you see the world. Beauty stunning. a view of life so simple shallow. In its sparkle of mirror shine there’s an image overflowing with pleasure, just a moment’s rain holding forever promise. As nights cool breeze brushes its surface, this formation of nature encapsulates all creation expressed in ripples whilst unchanging in outward boarders of eye drawing form. You begin by looking down then upwardly glance, quickly averting eyes to focus back to ground. the sky just holds uncertainty’s extreme, too many shades, clouds disruptive endless dreams. Still captivated by puddles, images projected of globes simplicity holding so much wonder. Hope glimmers from within water filled hollows, adorning morning’s atmosphere with shimmer as if stars flickering from below in blessings of beauty. In our minds occasionally our being does seem this straight forward, sturdy, what seems effortless splashes of existence portrayed in minute pattern. This shapeless depiction of nature possessing such ideals, a path of enlightenment, displaying this universe within itself unaltered by surrounding impurities. Inside life is held in beautiful visions of wonder, colours so bright yet easy on the soul. This waters glassy coating settled on pavements where hell has walked yet reflecting such clarity of light into this world of darkness.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Audio entries by chris dommett

the innocent cliffs (19/03/2010)

whisky drinking world (04/03/2010)

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