you know, ‘the good old days’ –
of abuse and stunted emotions
and carpets,
with every secret swept under them
they were all a mess ,
Tag: poems
Deep – Written Monday 9th August 1999 (Aged 24)
so very deep
awoke myself from a very long sleep
pulled from a swollen river
given warmth,
as i live here with my permanent shiver
My Guiding Noun – Written Saturday 25th January 2020 (Aged 44)
is the weather worn map –
of a human being
veering between extremes
like the pinball machine where –
the pinball is never sure of its means
Keep Me Busy – Written Friday 24th January 2020 (Aged 44)
i cannot stop,
keep me dutifully occupied,
in tasks to do
do not let me stare out of windows
just drowning in the view
So True – Written Monday 9th August 1999 (Aged 24)
well, i found the switch
but i still seem to be in the dark
you have stole every piece of me
and here i am falling apart
what i would give, just to be with you
Sailing Away on Final Breaths – Written Wednesday 22nd January 2020 (aged 44)
i am left confused and conflicted –
by my father’s death
having stood and watched,
as he sailed away on his final breaths
I Called for Your Train (An Unfinished Piece) – Written August 1999 (Aged 24)
the tain may have been distant
a rumble in the hills that rise in my brain
it may have been arriving,
which is why i shook in my frame
Parents Dying – Written January 2020 (Aged 44)
it is amazing,
our lives have such reflections
in the fragility of single pane glazing
windows with views we cling to
The Female Journalist – Written Saturday 1st August 1999 (Aged 24)
the female journalist
hangs on with greasy hands
she is in a job with suspect talent
and is a friend of, ‘bands’
Saturday Shaped Door – Written Tuesday 21st January 2020 (Aged 44)
in these moments
metaphorically i fall to the floor
dad died…
and found a saturday shaped door
