Category: poetry

poetry

~ Untitled ~

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~ Untitled ~

Nope;
I’m not going to force it
And pretend I’m feeling something I’m not
I’m just gonna talk about what I see, before me:

It’s a late-spring evening outside my window
The blossom on the trees has come and gone
And now what is left are bright green leaves
Waiting for the sunlight of the summer months.

They wait as they sway back and forth in the wind
And I, too, feel the breath of the world in my lungs
As my elbows rest on the hard wood of my table
While writing down these words one by one.

What is coming tomorrow?
I really don’t know
I have no plans, no job,
Nothing much going on at all.

I’m currently living on government benefit
Going on long walks along the river
Searching supermarkets for reduced food
And browsing the internet for hours a day

I do have a job to go back to next month
But for now it’s just the job of existing
Breathing the air, eating the food
Falling asleep for eight hours every night

It’s a job I’m at least competent at
And look, I even find other ways to exist:
Such as writing poems
And philosophising
As I stare out of windows
Watching my life breeze by
With no particular meaning.

poetry

~ Daft Daydreamer Delusions ~

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~ Daft Daydreamer Delusions ~

Some days I dream about solitude
About becoming some sort of hermit
Residing in a cave of my own making
Meditating for hours each day
Living off the bare essentials
Exploring my inner world.

Some days I dream about going away
To a place where sanity is banished
And all the logic and reason of the world
Is permanently banned.

Some days I dream about holding on
To my character and soul
And not letting this world rearrange me
Just to see how I turn out:
A madman or a poet.

Many men dream of taking chances
And perhaps there is no greater risk
Than following your own inner voice
When it tells you to leave the farm
Of regulated normality.

A part of me yearns to leap
Into the untamed wilderness
But reality stares at me menacingly
Snapping its teeth and licking its lips
Daring me to venture out beyond the fences.

Thoughts of starvation hound me again
So I guess I’ll just keep on doing what I can
Finding my way on this safe farm
Earning money, paying bills
Sitting on sofas and staring into space
The days disappearing
As these daft daydreamer delusions
Drift on through my mind.

poetry

~ Life Through the Veins ~

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~ Life Through The Veins ~

Too often you go through life on autopilot
Not even realising that you aren’t awake
And alert to the beauty around you.

Then one day something shakes you
It isn’t some great epiphany of light
Rather it’s usually something simple
Be it the sight of a bird resting on a branch
A crescent moon resting over a city skyline
Rain droplets running down the window glass
Or a small child running with a natural joy
That you had long forgotten about.

Maybe it’s a certain song
Or a combination of sound and sight
Birds tweeting as the sun rises over the hills
Setting off a morning chorus in your own soul.

At every moment of life, we are ready to awaken again
And see that we are wandering in some work of art
And every moment is full of mystery and magic
And that things aren’t so bad after all.

As the earth twirls in space
As the oxygen fills your lungs
As the stars shimmer in the night sky
And your heart beats in harmony 
With the whole of the universe.

Know that you are alive.

poetry

~ Taking it Easy ~

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~ Taking it Easy ~

Still never had a proper job
Now in my thirties
I think about how I’ve made it to here
Whilst travelling the world and hardly working
And only earning peanuts when I did.

I’ve taken part in paid medical trials
Which has undoubtedly been the main way
I’ve managed to avoid the rat race.

I’ve also lived frugally.
I only ever owned a few clothes at a time
I never drove or even learned to drive
I was careful and stubborn with my money
Apart from on nights-out
When that all went out the window.

I’ve used student loans
Both for my Bachelors
And another one for my Masters
Which I quit after three weeks
To go travelling in Central America.

Actually, when I think about
I haven’t worked more than six months in a year
In the last seven years now.
Quite the achievement,
If I dare say so myself. 

My friend Bryan says I’m a walking insult
To the hard-working people
Who constantly toil in their careers
Chasing promotions and paychecks
Success and social status.

I’ve not cheated the system or anything
I simply made some choices not to play the game
You just don’t need to own your own property
Or drive a nice car
Or have a full wardrobe
Or eat out at fancy restaurants
Or buy your coffee from Starbucks.

Saving for my next backpacking adventure
Taught me to be brutal with my spending
Buying only what I needed to survive
And through this frugal and minimalistic lifestyle
I actually discovered that you didn’t need much
To be happy, at all.

Yes, it’s a cliche, but a true one.
Just sit and meditate.
Breathe in and out.
Keep active.
Eat reasonably well.
Practise your passion.

Slowly you realise that it’s all a big con
Happiness is available to you whenever you allow it
Just let the solitude and silence teach you
And gently remove the veil of illusion
That is pulled over everyone’s eyes.

Yes, it’s hard to go out and get a ‘proper job’
And join the rat race after you learn these things
But once you’re happy being a loser by society’s standards
You simply don’t care about anyone’s opinion.

You just sit back, write your poetry,
Stare at the birds flapping their wings
As they nestle in the trees.
Like you, they know that there’s nothing to chase
Only something to be cherished.

Life is not a problem to be solved
But a reality to be experienced.

Some great philosopher said that
And you know,
As I take another sip of this wine,
I do have to say that I wholeheartedly agree.

Cheers to that.

poetry

~ Right Where I Belong ~

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~ Right Where I Belong ~

Smelling the grass and the flowers
Lying in this field of contentment
There is no rush to be anywhere 
I’m happy to just lie down
And let this life wash over me.

Other things I could be doing
Productive things, they like to say
Well, it all comes back to this anyway
The purpose of being will always be here
As everyone runs toward some illusionary goal.

To be miserable in a mansion
To be depressed with diamonds
To be sick with success
And lonely in the crowd

It’s clear to me that where life is
Is nowhere else but nature
And this joy is found
At the root source
Of everything worth doing.

I grew from the dirt of this earth
Like a flower of circumstance
And it is when I am surrounded
By all of this beauty
That I finally feel in touch
With my true essence

Let my dreams burst
And my thoughts bloom
And my happiness blossom
And please, do not think of me as lost

Like the lone eagle in the sky,

I am right where I belong.

poetry

~ No Sale ~

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~ No Sale ~

My books don’t sell much
But that’s okay
It still makes me feel good
Just to spit out some sentences
That come from some strange space inside
Where sunlight can’t survive.

It’s a world run by money
And what is a man to do when
His passion doesn’t translate to a job role.

“Do what you’re passionate about,
And you’ll never work a day in your life.”

Oh yes, we’ve all heard it before
The ignorant sentence that means nothing
To poets and people who can’t fit into
The positions of conventionality.

I consider my other options outside of creative writing:
There are things like copywriting and journalism
Where you write about stuff you’re not interested in
As you slowly lose your passion and energy
For writing your own stuff.

It’s a slightly annoying situation, I must say.

I was only given this one talent
I’m an introverted daydreamer
With no practical or pragmatic skills
I’m living with some form of undiagnosed condition:
Possibly ADD, autism, or dyspraxia
Or all of them together.

It’s not the best set of cards to have, admittedly.

“But you’re intelligent,” they say,
Totally unaware that being intelligent
And being compatible with a certain system of society
Are two completely different things.

Oh well, for there to be insiders,
There need to be outsiders.
It’s a universal law; one which I keep in check
As I wander this wilderness
With my unread words.

No point at this stage in trying to fit in
And do something different
No point at this stage in trying to be normal
And fail once again.

Time for me to accept who I am.

Let me sink into my groove of eccentricity
Let me drink the beers and scribble on stained pages
Watching the world go by from the window of a bar
On a Monday afternoon.

This is my space;
As the successful men of the world stare at me
And continue in their sane lives
Going to and from their workplaces
Their wives and their children.

I face down to the page once more
The pen knows it’s time to paint words
And let all the stuff that stirs inside of me
Show its strange face to the world.

It knows it’s time to let the world know
That there’s one more madman
Who believes he has some art within him
Another daft, deluded daydreamer
Who thinks that following his own voice
And doing his own thing
Can somehow bring anything
Other than madness, loneliness
And, most probably,
An early death.

poetry

~ Inner Song ~

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~ Inner Song ~

Something in my spirit sings
Though the days get dark
And the path gets twisted
Something inside of me
Sings ever so softly.

On those manic days
When the world seems to stand against you
And faces of hatred glare at you
And the demons encircle you
There is this something
That I have always felt
Harmonising within.

It’s kinda like a defiant laugh
A secret strength from somewhere
Sourced from some unspeakable knowledge
That is the result of all my years
Of overcoming struggles
Which did not break me.

Something in my spirit sings
As thunder rumbles around me.

Something in my spirit sings
As the lightning strikes the roof.

Something in my spirit sings
As the rain comes flooding in.

Defeat, destruction, 
Asteroids crashing down
Tsunamis pounding my shores
None shall stop my song.

Even in death,
Hear my melody play on.
The sound of a universal spirit
That can never
Be silenced.

poetry

~ Everything Is Going To Be Alright ~

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~ Everything Is Going To Be Alright ~

In my arms, I hold you
And feel the fire of all the stars
Burning in my heart
And igniting my soul

This universe has created great things:
Exploding nebulas, oceanic planets
The rings of Saturn
Glittering galaxies

And it also created you.

It created something as perfect
And precious
As you.

The way you feel in my arms
Your body beating and breathing
Is like the whole thing doing its magic
An entire universe that came into being
For the existence of you.

It could never have been any other way
It was always meant to happen
And as your eyes look up into mine
As your cheeks glow as you smile
I become a believer
Of something I can only feel
But not explain.

Everything is going to be alright.

poetry

~ Lost in Action ~

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~ Lost In Action ~

You wake up and don’t feel the need to tidy your bed
Your room is unclean like the mess in your head
And you’re standing in showers and staring at walls
Feet stuck to the ground as you stutter and stall
And you’re searching your soul for something not there
A quiet sadness inside as you stand and you stare
Something isn’t right but you can’t quite say
When you’re living your life in this peculiar way.

And you walk down the street and stare at the faces
Searching for others who aren’t quite at the races
You look into their eyes as you stand in the rain
Wondering if anyone else is feeling your pain
You’re in a city of people but feel all alone
With feelings of emptiness filling your bones
But no one can see and you’re looking just fine
Drifting through life and wasting your time.

And you enter your work and sit at your desk
Reporting for duty just like the rest
You shift in your seat and stare at a screen
A feeling inside like you just want to scream
You start dreaming of living life in a different way
You start searching again for the words you can say
But your mind is numb and your soul is sedated
As you slowly become all that you hated.

And on the way home you do all your chores
You workout at the gym and stop in the stores
You search the shelves of that supermarket aisle
Getting the same things you have for a while
Then head on home to stare at another screen
Sitting on that sofa still wanting to scream
You reach for the bottle to forget about tomorrow
Filling the hole and drowning your sorrow.

One day you decide something has to change
You can’t keep feeling this sick and this strange
Life is to be lived and it’s time to begin
To claim back the beauty and spirit within
You try to think of what can be done
Of what it was that once made life fun
But you can’t find the magic that once lingered inside
And you’ve forgotten what it was that made you alive.

Then you’re back to the feeling of being sedated
Back to the feeling of becoming all that you hated
Where life is grey and you’ve lost all purpose
Going through the motions of this lousy old circus
So you retreat to your bed to stare at the ceiling
Trying to make sense of all that you’re feeling
That terrible feeling inside that cuts like a knife
The sadness of the unlived, meaningless life.

poetry

~ My Ambition ~

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~ My Ambition ~

I don’t want to be revered
Or admired
Or respected
Or even accepted.

Any man who finds his happiness
In the opinions of others
Is no man to me.

I simply want to be happy with the person
That I see in the mirror.

I want to wake up every day
And live a life that is in tune
With the gentle voice
That I hear in my heart.

I want to write poetry
And walk in the woods
And for my words and actions
To be that of the higher energy
Which flows through everything.

I want to feel my mind as clear
As the air and the water
While feeling no distance
Between me and the stars.

I want to know what this life is
To be fully alive and awake
My eyes seeing what’s before me
Without any mental distortion.

There is no time to take notice
Of the noise of society
When nature is here
To tell me the truth.

That nature is my god
And my ambition
Is to live in alignment with it.

To be as pure as a sunset
As free-flowing as a river
As true as a lightning bolt
And just be ‘myself’

Whatever the hell

That really is.