Category: My Poetry

Shadows lengthening, growth slowing, sun weakening,
Signalling the end of another summer.
The endless, merciless cycle of the seasons.
Time you cruel bastard!
Why do you play with us so?
Why do you tempt us with the beautiful promise of Spring…
Only to leave us in despair with the breaking of that promise?
Give and take, give and take – it’s just a cruel game.
If there is a God, he’s laughing at us….

Written by me about 20 years ago.

Her yawning, reflected mouth requires a fleshy encounter,
I fantasise.
Neatly shaped, shining legs extend as she climbs the stairwell.
Our mutual angle almost reveals private land,
But she slips out of sight in time.

The warm-legged girl beside me keeps catching my eyes in the glass partition.
An ironic, emotional connection give our proximity.
On another occasion I sit centre aisle at the back.
Two uniformed schoolgirls enter,
One blonde freedom, the other brunette reservation.

They sit sideways, close to me, straddling the aisle,
Blissfully unaware of my trouser contents,
As I eagerly overhear their conversation.
Old creatures shuffle slowly and clumsily past,
Reminding me of my surroundings.

An annoying young child receives my feeble smile.
An obese woman boards, to create panic,
In the minds of single-seated passengers.
My destination is reached and I slowly disembark,
Returning to madness.

Written 20 years ago.

Birth sounds a lot like sex,
Another life shagged!
Infants gush forth into existence,
Carried on a stream of blood, perhaps leaving likewise.

All the shapes and sizes of people,
Rushing to an unknown destination.
In my mind I project a downward view,
And think of slave ants scurrying aimlessly.

On the bus and old drunk shuffles,
Onto a seat beside the young, pretty girl.
Her face portrays the anticipation,
Of awkward moments to follow.

I share the experience when another drunk mumbles to me,
“I buried my brother today
– cancer took him away.”
All the while clutching his brothers memorial card.

I said I was sorry to hear it,
Without actually feeling any sorrow.
I didn’t care about his troubles,
And was content to judge him.

A stranger stopped and asked me was I a Christian man,
I said “No – Atheist”, he asked why?
But I had no answer for him.
I think I have created my own destruction.

Written 20 years ago.

Why is madness more interesting than sanity?
Why don’t people see the bigger picture?
Why do we think we’re so important?
Why am I here?

What is beauty?
What is intelligence?
What is kindness?
What am I?

When will the world end?
When will there be peace?
When will we learn?
When will I die?

Where is God?
Where has all the love gone?
Where has the past gone?
Where am I?

How did we get in this state?
How big is the universe?
How do we survive?
How am I, really?

Who is responsible for us all?
Who was the first person to love?
Who decided right from wrong?
Who am I?

Written 20 years ago.

I am the new Jesus Christ.
I have come, not to enlighten you,
But to confuse you.
Not to lead you along the path of righteousness,
But to lead you all to hell.
I will not suffer for your sins,
But let you suffer for your own.
I will not heal the sick,
But kill them and end their misery.
I will not offer you hope,
Because there is none to offer.

Written 20 years ago.

I hate me
I hate you
I hate him
I hate her
I hate us
I hate you (plural)
I hate them (masculine)
I hate them (feminine)

I hate narrow mindedness
I hate ignorance
I hate avoidable stupidity
I hate drunkenness
I hate coldness
I hate dishonesty
I hate authority
I hate work

I hate dirt
I hate children murdered
I hate falseness
I hate boredom
I hate money
I hate old age
I hate depression
I hate talking without saying anything

I love……….. Everything else!

Written 20 years ago.

I can’t feel the world.
I can’t feel people.
I’m numb to everything around me,
Except maybe my music.
The world is dumbing me down,
Doping me up.
I need more interesting, exiting people in my life,
Just to keep me normal.
I’m addicted tot he search for meaning,
If I find none, I want to flush the world away!

Written 20 years ago.

Trying to sleep to kill time,
And one day, time will kill me.
Wasting each day, in my prime,
It’s not all it seems to be free.

I’m outside, looking in on the fun,
Banging on the window, but unheard.
Am I happy to just exist with the sun,
And to remain this way, lonely and scared?

My boredom feels terminal, no one seems real,
My wavelength is outside the spectrum.
My cure is a girl who’s heart I can steal,
As I pluck this sad song with my plectrum.

Trying to sleep to kill time,
As, one day, time will kill me.
Wasting the days, in my prime,
Is this how my life is meant to be?

Written 20 years ago.

The sun rises, invades my room, breaks my sleep.
I crawl slowly and uncomfortably from a pained unconscious,
My mouth, dry and stinking, my nose blocked and sore,
My hair, ragged and bent and my shoulders stiff.
The morning glory in my sweaty pants present yet again!
I struggle to get back to sleep, indeterminate in length, but in vain.
Reluctantly, I haul myself erect and walk backwards in life.
So begins another weary day…

I wrote this poem about 20 years ago.

Life and living,
Complete desolation of the mind.
Living in limbo, purgatory.
Being brain dead, but being conscious of it.
Being lonely,
Being bored,
Being without ambition or initiative.
Realising everything is meaningless,
Not even absurd!
Being unable to feel joy or love,
Being seriously ill,
Being hated,
Being……

Written by me about 20 years ago.