Tag: poet

thoughts

~ I Don’t Care Anymore ~

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~ I Don’t Care Anymore~

Like many young people growing up, I was once full of inner conflict and at odds with the world. Resentful of my surroundings and feeling misunderstood, I sought to set things straight and take back some ground for myself. My blood was full of fury and a war raged constantly inside of me. The pain in my heart meant I was willing to go to extreme lengths to slay down everything I felt was wrong with the world. Maybe it’s me getting softer in older age, but the truth is I don’t care anymore. I’ve set down my sword. And thrown away my shield. I’m no longer charging into any battle, or craving some sort of victory. Things I once fought were worth killing myself for now seem meaningless. Something has changed inside of me. A stillness comes over me. Points of tension begin to relax. And feelings of anger begin to finally fade. After all these years, it seems this soul has found some salvation from the storm. I now find myself in a state of calmness, where I find that I have obtained the victory I always wanted – a victory where I can now rest and relax, because really it was just me stopping myself from living in the lands of peace anyway. And as the smoke of the battle begins to clear, I begin to see the sun shine, and the birds sing, and my soul smile.

 I don’t care anymore.

poetry

~ Fading Light ~

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~ Fading Light ~

And now the days lose their shine

This sun not setting like it used to

The birds in the sky not inspiring me

The clouds no longer dancing

Only drifting by in greyness.

What are my dreams and thoughts of late

I ain’t thinking like I used to

I ain’t seeing what I used to

Those things that once brought fire to my fingertips

Now do little, if not nothing.

I tell myself that all go through this at some point

The spiritual drought

The rivers of blood in the heart drying out

The spring in the step gone

Nowadays I stagger and stumble

With eyes not seeking anything

A passive journey to whatever

Which is usually self-pity

Or a bar entrance.

Meanwhile I look out and see the courage of other living things

I tell myself that the same energy exists in me somewhere

One day I’ll wake up to brighter and better days

The sunlight will penetrate my soul again

The flocking birds will lift me up

And inspiration will return.

But for now I sit alone in my bedroom tonight

And I can’t help but look out at the city lights 

And think of all the others starving and surviving

Drifting and wandering

Not even dreaming anymore

Just staring up at ceilings

Watching the lights go dim

And getting lost in the haze

Of being human

thoughts

~ An Inside Job ~

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Like others before me, there came a time in my life where I knew I needed to find something. Whatever that something was, it seemed to be not available in my immediate surroundings. Unsatisfied with my external world, I realised my journey was to become an internal one. One day my quest began. Digging into the depths of myself, I struck that spade into the solid ground. With force and might I pulled away the dirt with a driven and determined energy. I knew in my bones that something in those depths, buried away in the darkness, waiting to be uncovered. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I could feel its presence within, and soon everything else in my life centered around finding it. Naturally I knew there were those out there who would dismiss such an undertaking as foolish or crazy, but I knew that that something within me was something that would make me richer in most ways that people had experienced. So I kept digging away, breaking apart that earth, with blistered hands searching deeper and deeper within my own soul. And in that act of soul-searching, I felt assured that one day the time would come where I would stand with that great diamond in my hands; a man who broke through his walls, who stripped away his surface, who unearthed his treasure and let it finally glint in the morning light. A man no longer blind to what he possesses.

pricless pleasure

poetry

~ Runaway Soul ~

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~ Runaway Soul ~

My first trip was when I was nineteen
I spent a summer in Ghana
working at a local newspaper
for an internship related to my studies
(that would at least please the parents)

But really, I just needed to get out
throw myself into some foreign field
and let my mind be blown to pieces
by things I had not seen before
and would not see again

That was granted
and one year later
I was on a plane to Australia
where I spent a year wandering around
working odd jobs
staring out at sunsets
drinking with strangers
writing poetry under the stars

And then one year after coming home
I was back on a plane
this time: South America
six months of total madness
a twenty-two-year-old high on life
and drugs and women
and anything else I could get my hands on

It was my youth, my time
and I was going to take it by the balls
and have my way with it.

I had thought about other things worth doing in life
but to me, it was all about the experience
and I wanted as much as it
as my blood and brain and liver
could handle.

Seven years on nothing has really changed
I’m still planning that next trip
still running off into that sunset
still trying to find that magic something

I don’t suppose I’ll ever find it
at this stage I’m not sure I even want to

I just want to keep running
sprinting into that sunset
drinking with those strangers
staring up at those stars
another hopeless dreamer
lost in space and time
drifting in the cosmic ocean
and just falling in love
with this strange
thing called

life.

pexels-lachlan-ross-5967953

poetry

~ The Unicorns ~

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The Unicorns

Real people are rare.

Sorry, but it’s true.
Just listen to the conversation
In the typical crowd.

How safe their words
How constrained their behaviour
How manufactured their movements

Where are the real people?

The ones without masks?
The ones without scripts?
The ones just doing –
Whatever the fuck it is
Their heart tells them to

Such people are unicorns
In this current society
Of careful appearances
And mass conformity

Those who do not submit
Become outcasts and outsiders
Lingering in dark rooms
Avoiding the world
Like the plague it is.

I guess that’s what makes them so rare.
But it brings warmth to my heart
To know they are out there

Somewhere.

poetry

~ Caught in Nowhere ~

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~ Caught in Nowhere ~

And the people my age were not like me
And the people younger than me were not like me
And the people older than me were not like me

I am caught in nowhere
No place to be
Or job to work
Or woman to come home to

This is how it is:
Approaching the age of 30
Living in a small rented room
Losing my youth and mind
Alone in this shit show

It’s just me and the word
Same as its always been
Hoping that somehow this madness
Will save me from this world

The reality is that I’m just another self-obsessed writer
Who can’t write a good poem to save my life
All I can do is spit out this pain onto the page
To at least feel a little better

There’s not much more to it than that
And believe me, I wish there was
I wish my words were good enough
To be found by some hotshot editor
Who sought to turn me into something
Different from what I am.

But what I am is inescapable
And this I have to accept:

I am alone in this
No job to work
No place to be
Nothing to get out of bed for
Nothing interesting to even write about

Caught in nowhere.

man sitting alone

poetry

~ Leave It ~

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~ Leave it ~

I wouldn’t bother with me
I’ve long walked off the track you are on
You will find nothing of any use in me
And my poetry will repulse you

My words will not be familiar to your script
My behaviour will confuse you
My thoughts will scare you at best
And my interests will have no place in your life

No, I wouldn’t bother with me
I’m damaged goods, beyond saving
And you will feel ashamed
To be seen in my company

This wilderness I roam – it’s not one you want to be in
Although I often fantasise
About dragging you into it
So you can see the pain and madness
I know and endure.

But that would be cruel, so please:
just listen to my advice
keep your distance
and don’t bother with me.

This is the kindest advice
I can give
you.

pexels-photo-764880

poetry

~ No Filter Necessary ~

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~ No Filter Necessary ~

Hidden in my heart were things

I couldn’t bear to let anyone see

But from time to time

I dreamed about opening up

And seeing my truth soar out of me

Like flocks of birds

Dancing in the morning sky

.

Often I looked around at the faces

Wondering what lay behind their eyes

Behind their ‘fine thanks, you?’s

And their polished appearances

.

I couldn’t help but sense

That I wasn’t alone with holding in my truths

In fact, when I walked those streets

And stared at those faces

I was sure that the majority

Were walking vaults of secret sadness



Still, when I go to share my song

I can’t seem to find my voice 

Like a broken stereo 

I stall and I stutter

Missing the important things

.

So I guess I will keep holding these things inside

And wondering if this world is full of people like me

Silently suffering

Because none of us were able

To let our true selves 

see the piercing spotlight

of this painful reality.

thoughts

~ Moving Forth ~

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~ Moving Forth ~

“And one day I just let go of it all. Of the anger, of the resentment, of the pain. I threw it into the trash and felt a relief flow through my soul. I looked at the world again as a child; all that possibility and opportunity, my life was mine to do what I wanted with it. I didn’t need to let my past define me. I didn’t need to stay bitter and cling onto past issues. A new lease of life was upon me as I entered a new phase of being. I walked those streets with my head held high; I brushed off all the little stresses and inconveniences; I looked into mirrors and felt a great strength in my heart. Peace and happiness gently let itself be known to me. Like a butterfly sitting on my shoulder, it looked at me to tell me “see, I was here all along.” And then I looked up at the sky with my eyes wide open. A new adventure was coming; the story of my life still unfolding. It was time to move on. It was time to grow. It was time to move forward into something new and wonderful and magical.”

poetry

~ A Hidden Wonderland ~

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‘A Hidden Wonderland’

Somewhere deep inside your soul
there is an abandoned amusement park
waiting to be explored again

its entrance is taped off
its grounds sit shrouded in fog
but somewhere in there lies eternal bliss
the bliss the demons sweat in terror
at the thought of you finding

the rides await your screams of ecstasy
the candy floss awaits your taste-buds
the neon lights wait to shine bright
and the only admission cost
is that you are brave enough to venture in

in this life there is no tragedy greater than
allowing your inner joy to slowly decay
to allow the roller-coasters to rust in the rain
and let a heart creak hauntingly in the night

the reason this happens;
the reason your joy lies abandoned –
is because they made you forget
that you are the gatekeeper to your own wonderland
that the magic is found inside you, not outside

but if you would only remember who you really are
than the power will return within
the roller coasters will start up again
and the lights blaze bright once more

because somewhere deep inside your soul
there is an abandoned amusement park
waiting to come alive again

so go on in
through the mist
beyond the tape
and rediscover the joy
like a wide-eyed child
dazzled and delighted
curious and captivated
alive in the night once again

shining brighter and greater

than ever before.