Category Archives: Poems

Poetry is
The art of the heart
Written in the lifeblood
Of the soul.

due south

Friendships shimmer like lost
Blossoms of springtimes dead
Heat, suffocated by winter’s downy
Head, laid down to rest with all
Else that sleeps in the dead cold
Dark of life’s quiet, slow period.

All life flows south for winter,
Due south, like the birds, yet
Even my own guts tell me, in
Their revolt against too much
Drink, salt, sugar, time, stress, or
Not enough sleep, that even I
Must shut down some, go south
As it were, for winter’s true veil,
The one that shimmers like lost
Love, the horizon of ever-promised
Spring juice, summer love, autumn
Romance, all is lost in the dead of
Cold, dark, hail of the soul.

For now is the time, the time to
Rest, easy in the knowledge that
Even as the bright golden red
Embers burn, deep hot breaths of
Ice-tight hollow nothing seep into
Everything I see, the road slipping
Ever further into tunnel vision, that
False premise of a life well lived,
Even that small wish meets its own
Gruesome demise, just so, for as
We learn, as we grow, nothing is
Real, all transient, change is the
Only constant, just so.

This is not the hail mary, everlast
Cry of a lone wolf in the forest, but
Rather just another single beam of
Wavering light, another candle in the
Wind of life’s funny torrential downpour,
One more gust of harsh breath,
Hard-earned pain and empty night.

Tomorrow is a new day, will be all
The same a flow of inconsequential
Sameness, that disheartening fever
Of life lived to the extreme, an extent
Of what we living, thinking, being
Creatures call the ‘cure’, to boredom,
To loneliness, to frustration, just so,
Just so.

And still we burn.

time and again

‘It’ happened again, grabbed
By the backlit eyes, blaring
Golden humanity, smiling bright
From behind guarded eyes, she
Smiled, whole face lighting up
With life’s love and breathe,
Filling my chest with joy, breathe
Of fresh air, gust of sea breeze
Blowing cobwebs of listless
Tenderly cultivated stillness out
The window, breathing in fresh
Sunlight and air.

To laugh, unashamedly, great dorky
Guffaws of selfless me, bursting
Forth, as if I did not mind what others
Thought, indeed I did not, for I was
Am happy, momentary smiles
Broadening into full-blown central
Heating glow, as if for the first time
That breathe of fresh salt air, scoring
Deep lines of breakage joyfully across
What I thought were permanent
Walls, self-protection disintegrating
Melting like sand before the waves,
Yet still remains the calm, as if
This were the most natural
Of all states, just so, the way it was
Meant to be, just general good feeling
And me.

Time will only tell, whether this
Is false pretence, the lost lonely
Boy grasping like a drowning soul
At a life raft promise of happiness,
Yet even as I write these
Last few lines, I know it to be untrue,
This may not be the end of the world,
Yet it is the beginning of something.

If being on my own two
Feet has taught me anything, it is
This, that we are what we have been, we
Breathe air in that once cycled through
Our own internals, we make this
Life what it is.

Whether this is truth for all,
Or just truth for one, for me, I
Cannot tell. Yet it is true, for now
For me.

Welcome back happiness, may you
Stay a while, rest your warmth against
My breast, breathe your sweet honeysuckle
Breeze across my chin, brush my cheek
With life-thrilling tenderness,
Tell me all will be well. I
Am a little older, a little bit
Wiser, a few more scars, bumps
And bruises, yet I am still me.

Rest your head, happiness,
Against my soul-home, and whisper
Sweet nothings in my ear. May it be
Transient, this still is,
This is still.

Welcome home happy thoughts,
Internal smiles will always be
Welcome.

and another thing…

Today went as well
As could be expected
Considering, I was learning
All about ITIL v3.

There is only so much,
Technical gumf, that my
Brain can take, before information
Starts falling out the side,
Leaving me slightly lopsided
And top-heavy, somehow.

So here’s a poem about
The other things I am doing
To make the dull throbbing
Of Services and Warranty,
Utility and Archetypes disappear,
If only for an hour or two.

I came home after 12 hours,
To find the lovely picture,
Of beautiful daughter and cool
Au pair, hanging out happily
Together.

A package lay awaiting,
Resting slyley on my desk,
Winking plastic in my eye
As I passed, nonchalantly.

Noticing my tightly-wrapped
Nemesis there, waiting patiently
On my desk, I grabbed and ripped
It open, to find…

Darker Zeus merchandise!

The print is good quality,
As is the material (Anvil anyone?)
And the two ladies of the
House were well-pleased
With their new clothing,
So all in all, a good
Day was had by all.

Now if only
I can retain half
Of the ITIL-speak
I have shoved in my head
Over the past
Week,
I will be happy
Too.

Countdown to test…5…4…3…2…

not so bad

So, not as to be expected, no
This is not another heart wrenching
Angst-driven poem, but rather
Something altogether different.

Whether it is the Valentine bug,
Or just the sheer joy of a week
Away from the hour to hour to
And fro of everyday office life,
I guess I will never know.

Yet I am pleased as punch, so
Much so that the two-bit punk
With his weapon-on-a-leash dog
Shouting retributive vile at me,
After I verbally defended a tube
Worker, did nothing to dampen
My spirits.

Life is good, two-bit waste-of-space,
Resource gobbling, drunk, violent
Punks or no.

Which is worse? Rich bankers,
Pocketing our hard earned tax
Dollars as ‘bonus’ millions, or
The loser that gets drunk and
Abusive, not realising we’re
Paying for him too?

A welfare state leaves a lot
To think about…

Yet again, I
Come back to this feeling
Of a day well spent, learning
Dryest of studies, in scintillating
Company.

Thanks for the break, travel
Included, from the everyday
That can become so very
Monday-ne.

grey hairs

To punch a wall,
Light a cigareete, deep
Breathe, inhale, feel
The burn bite deep in
Throat, taste the sour
Acrid smoke, nurse the
Bloody knuckles, and
Wonder where the basest
Emotions spring from, within
This chest, from under breast,
Deep inside the core, need
I say anything more?

What caged lionmonster
Paces within, growing older
Days shorter, growing double chin,
The tea-time Sunday of life’s
Short weekend, the 30’s half-
Way done, teens long past,
The forties bearing down, all
Too fast, hair thinning, greys
Sprouting, don’t know about
Innings, yet it’s been a good
Outing, so far, not so bad, yet
Somehow still quite sad, not just
What I’d hoped for, yet more
Happiness than ever had, this
Stillness, a dream, this patience
Like steam from the shower,
Leaving skin soaked clean through,
Not half of life lived, the yoke sat
Quite skew, dragging half of me
Down, no lower than ground,
Which in my own personal health,
Is as good as could be hoped
For lower than that I have been
For so long, that ground level is
At least solid, something strong.

A place to stand, but not for
Long, for the changes that
Come, as we grow each old tonight
Bring the dawn of a new day, the
Taste of the future, though teasing
Still bright, blinding me to my
Own, still feeling for what is right,
Striking out on my own, no fear
Is the only way forward, for fear
Is the ultimate leach of the soul,
Crippling our very being through
Unfair weight and poor sight.

This is not the end, nor even
The beginning. This is the middle,
Time to start building. Foundation
Is strong, bricks easily formed,
Mortar of tears thickened by years
Of being bourne.

And me in the middle, still young,
Laughing, as the walls of a new
Place grow all around, this is me
This is mine, it is home which I
Have found.

Home, to build
On finally solid ground.