Category Archives: Poems

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

Still here, now where?

In the quieting soul stillness
That pervades each vibrating cell
Until any noise is more than the momentary cessation of quiet,
But rather the pointed reminder of inner calm, that
Permeates my being, flowing outwards in
Undulating waves of peace, from the very
Centre, my life force telling the rest to wait
Be patient, this is the eye of the
Storm, no more a safe haven
Than the cellar would be in an earthquake,
I am shaken down to my very core
And it is this vibration I feel,
Which in synchronicity cancels wave after wave
Of external and internal noise,
Until all that is left is the tinnitus bells
Signaling the death of full hearing,
And my own whispering voice
Reading these words.

Fine, all is well.
Still, all is calm.
Me, I am here
Now.
Where
Is this all heading?

When all games are done

Soulfilling relief as the endgame draws near,
One slow plodding step at a time,
Dawn reversing back over distant now jet black horizons,
Still I can hear the edge of reason call
Me back to where I was, once upon a time,
Without any real excuse, I crash
And ultimately feel the better
For it, just another cycle
Of up and down life,
Just one more breath in, held
Too long, then let out, just one more
Self-promise broken, no biggey,
I say, because it really doesn’t weigh
All that much, on the scales of yesterday
Tomorrow will come, come what may, and this rhyme
Will end, all I have to say.

Breathe easy sigh, for tomorrow comes, without where or why

A slight collapse,
Weight baring bridge sagging
Under one load too many
One more admission of defeat
Another day older, uglier
Here for life, if not forever
Eyes wide in a silent wish
To stay here, but that is not
What makes me sad, this is
Not the sadness of sagging defeat
But the release of pent-up pressure
All too long held at bay, with
Nothing more than pure iron will
Now wilted beneath the glaring truth
That I am but human, another one
Like all others I see, not super, just am
How hard is this to take, why does it
Feel like such complete and utter
Collapsedefeatlossfailure, that only
The reminder of greater good, stronger people
Keeps this frail emotional web from collapsing completely
Gossamer threads once strong as steel, and as reliable,
Now tremble with vibrations of moving earth, as if
My very basis of reality were shifting
To let in the bare light of truth, my fear
That all this will reveal is the dangling bare bulb
Of life’s saddest joke, and seeing this
I would need to close the door on reality once again
Turn to my child and say,
All is rosey, all is love,
All is beauty, knowing full well that
What I stated verbatim was pure lie,
How would this earth-shattering revelation leave me,
No more a shell than I am right now
Mirages of my own making stand all around
As lost shrouds befuddle a boy standing stock still
The breath of some ancient beast fogging up
The air behind the sheets of ice-thin reality, no more
These are all just excuses, a long enough reason
To twist and turn my way to harshest reality
That all will be well, no matter how hard or not I try
For that is the way of all things
Life beats on through the heart of another.

After all, I am spent,
And dog gone tired,
This silly little dance, a final pirhuoette
And then the fall,
That same thundering internal silence
That comes to take us each
All.
What’s more?
Nothing. Everything.
Pain.
Freedom
breathe

for Maya the danish, and her truest love

Smiling he recites
His love unabashed
Her encouraging words understood
Laughter encouraging the blossom
Of love. His attempt to speak, gutteral
Her language as she laughs, in love
Playful, hands stroking each additional tone
From strange lips, she swaps to English
In love he continues. To prove
His knowledge, dedication to her mother tongue
True love spoken, encouraging hands
A kiss to light the way, deep sigh to mark the time
Is now for sweetest love. Even deeper he goes,
Bringing her down to personal soul
Continuing the stretch to her understanding
Refusing to speak his own mother’s tongue
He shows his truest love, this is dedication
He is in for the long hall, and to interrupt
Even to say, ‘Bravo’ is sacriledge
The worst of life’s crimes against true loves
They do not need reminder or help
They are in their own world
He loves, and is loved in return.
Someday this joy will be mine
To cherish, but not interrupt.

let’s play charades

When you live long enough,
To revisit every bit of misery
That you ever swallowed down
Bit back and internalised,
Whether through constant silent self-recrimination,
Or simply moving on more quickly than is healthy,
For both soul and self to acknowledge damage done,
All those festering sores, of could have
Would have, should have beens well up
In the throat, choking torrents of years jerked child-like
Tantrums of salty rain dried on cheeks lined with years,
Laughter leaving deeper grooves than pain ever did
On the surface, but pain and suffering is only truly felt
On the inside, where we hide with our own skeletons,
Jacked up in our private nightmares, blaring landscape
Flying by at hellish pace, quickening as the taste of death
Flings the dry spittle of yester-years forgotten pain across
Your face, once again just a loose end,
Flapping ragged in the breeze, tied to the pole
Of our own self-denial, too arrogantly self-assured,
Too inwardly borne to realise how outwardly blind we really are,
This life nothing more than a stark mirror
Of our own selfish desire, to repeat the thro’s of the past,
Like some sadly lost caged beast,
Depressed animal all alone staring out of the barren internal landscape,
Not knowing what truly surrounds us
Is the eden we all feel thrown out from
And each other being the Adam and Eve of our own first birth,
To return back round inside, to our own private fallacies,
And in seeing them recognise each other
For what we really are
Fellow human beings
Floating, through the vast emptiness of vacuous space,
Precariously perched on the outer edge of a massive living rock,
Carbon and the thin film of atmosphere our only hope to continue,
Feuding and picking, fighting and blaming, pushing and shoving
For another little piece of
What? a rock floating through space.
The same cycle ends where it always begins,
Sadness to preacher’s words,
No more real than anything else verbal
In this world, if we do not at least thank our fellow human
For smiling as they help us through another day
What is the purpose of this sad charade?