An ache
so deep,
so excruciatingly deep,
that grows,
grows roots at wind in deeper.
Eroding sanity
until there's nothing left.
Nothing but depth and emptiness.
Emptiness that eats away
until you have the answer.
And that time never comes.
Diving for Inspiration
Blazing reflections on the water
glaring into my eyes
so I cannot deny them.
Ducks diving for food,
their bottoms to the sky, symbolize
the upside down state of my
mind with me hopelessly
diving for inspiration.
I sit in the shadows
to shade myself.
The shade obscures the sun's
clarity from me.
How can I see so clearly
the meaning in the lake
but I am unable to see
my own meaning,
my own purpose.
glaring into my eyes
so I cannot deny them.
Ducks diving for food,
their bottoms to the sky, symbolize
the upside down state of my
mind with me hopelessly
diving for inspiration.
I sit in the shadows
to shade myself.
The shade obscures the sun's
clarity from me.
How can I see so clearly
the meaning in the lake
but I am unable to see
my own meaning,
my own purpose.
Extended Smoke
Step through the sizzle,
surrounded by oppressed,
scorched faces, staring back through mist and haze,
searching with gazes intense.
Sharp song notes suppress us,
smog blurs our view.
Singing of melodies softly blend in syndicate.
Stunned the audience enthuse.
Senses soothed by sensual harmonies as
stress seeps from the pores.
Swaying and mesmerized they dance,
stomping through the steam.
Strength fights the fog of fire and
silhouettes merge transparent,
stumbling in the fierceness.
Souls of a sensitive demeanor flee.
Sickening us the vapor chokes.
Shock shakes the figures.
Small paper cylinders produce
searing spirals of smoke.
surrounded by oppressed,
scorched faces, staring back through mist and haze,
searching with gazes intense.
Sharp song notes suppress us,
smog blurs our view.
Singing of melodies softly blend in syndicate.
Stunned the audience enthuse.
Senses soothed by sensual harmonies as
stress seeps from the pores.
Swaying and mesmerized they dance,
stomping through the steam.
Strength fights the fog of fire and
silhouettes merge transparent,
stumbling in the fierceness.
Souls of a sensitive demeanor flee.
Sickening us the vapor chokes.
Shock shakes the figures.
Small paper cylinders produce
searing spirals of smoke.
Lake Alone
Ripples circling
as a leaf touches the surface.
Gently, water waves at
the trailing Willows who gaze
as ducks
paddle by, then
open mouthed gold
fish bob to the surface and
in a shimmer fade away
between pink petals that protrude
from pads,
flat and green.
Squirrels scamper above the water
skittering up
the spiralled tree tops,
through which canopy
plump droplets patter and
slide down grass blades.
But on this battered old bench
tainted with green
I sit alone.
as a leaf touches the surface.
Gently, water waves at
the trailing Willows who gaze
as ducks
paddle by, then
open mouthed gold
fish bob to the surface and
in a shimmer fade away
between pink petals that protrude
from pads,
flat and green.
Squirrels scamper above the water
skittering up
the spiralled tree tops,
through which canopy
plump droplets patter and
slide down grass blades.
But on this battered old bench
tainted with green
I sit alone.
Awash in Reality
Soft tales are told of a romance so true;
courting lovers fantasies, the stars and moon,
sweet lies run black with blood red hue.
A passion for me that dies far too soon.
Illusions woven in the depth of night;
young maidens wait while their princes roam wild.
Storm clouds a’ brewing in my tortured heart
escape from these chains and start to fight
warm love cravings from a poor lonely child.
By nightmares my heart has been ripped apart.
Princes of darkness awash in their gloom
stripped they should be of their royal gold blue.
There’s no soul mate waiting out there for you.
To stay or to stray is my strongest plight,
can such heartbreak ever be reconciled?
Like a butterfly trapped inside cocoon
each story begins to lose its own start.
Soft tales not so soft for the hard at heart.
courting lovers fantasies, the stars and moon,
sweet lies run black with blood red hue.
A passion for me that dies far too soon.
Illusions woven in the depth of night;
young maidens wait while their princes roam wild.
Storm clouds a’ brewing in my tortured heart
escape from these chains and start to fight
warm love cravings from a poor lonely child.
By nightmares my heart has been ripped apart.
Princes of darkness awash in their gloom
stripped they should be of their royal gold blue.
There’s no soul mate waiting out there for you.
To stay or to stray is my strongest plight,
can such heartbreak ever be reconciled?
Like a butterfly trapped inside cocoon
each story begins to lose its own start.
Soft tales not so soft for the hard at heart.
Under a Full Moon
If I could stop. If I could go back. It would be different. It would be better or I would understand, but it’s no use. I know what happened that night under a full moon. Now every day life is a façade, I wear a mask concealing the truth. Every night I relive those fatal moments.
It was the largest moon I’d ever seen; silver, glowing, beckoning me outside. So I obeyed, I slipped into my trainers and tripped over the untied laces and groped around for my coat. The warm wool comforted me and I was convinced I had to go.
I walked, I stumbled, following the moon, until at last I arrived at the edge of a cliff. Stones tapped down the side, their sound disappearing below, nothing at the bottom but darkness shadowed beyond the moon’s light, except there was something in the nothingness. The feeling of being a child enveloped me, scared of the monsters under the bed, hiding under the covers. But at twenty-five, alone on the cliff top there was no Mum and Dad to save me.
I blinked. One second, but in that second it all changed. My eyes reopened and the moon was gone. The sky around me was a black canvas, no star, no cloud, but most obviously no moon. Without the moon there was no cliff edge, there was no light, I was in a dark waterless sea, terrified and yet disbelieving.
I died that night, I made the wrong step, and without my sight my feet had no sense of direction. I fell, grazing every surface of my skin as I scarred the rocks fierce edges. But I never landed.
That’s not exactly true, I must have landed, but I landed back at the top, standing on the cliff edge, under the full moon, the light touching the land as far as I could see. A dream? Perhaps, but that wouldn’t account for the rips in my clothing, my missing shoe, the blood smeared across my skin and the droplets trickling from my eyes.
I died that night but I’m still alive. Because of the mask I look the same but I know I’m someone different.
It was the largest moon I’d ever seen; silver, glowing, beckoning me outside. So I obeyed, I slipped into my trainers and tripped over the untied laces and groped around for my coat. The warm wool comforted me and I was convinced I had to go.
I walked, I stumbled, following the moon, until at last I arrived at the edge of a cliff. Stones tapped down the side, their sound disappearing below, nothing at the bottom but darkness shadowed beyond the moon’s light, except there was something in the nothingness. The feeling of being a child enveloped me, scared of the monsters under the bed, hiding under the covers. But at twenty-five, alone on the cliff top there was no Mum and Dad to save me.
I blinked. One second, but in that second it all changed. My eyes reopened and the moon was gone. The sky around me was a black canvas, no star, no cloud, but most obviously no moon. Without the moon there was no cliff edge, there was no light, I was in a dark waterless sea, terrified and yet disbelieving.
I died that night, I made the wrong step, and without my sight my feet had no sense of direction. I fell, grazing every surface of my skin as I scarred the rocks fierce edges. But I never landed.
That’s not exactly true, I must have landed, but I landed back at the top, standing on the cliff edge, under the full moon, the light touching the land as far as I could see. A dream? Perhaps, but that wouldn’t account for the rips in my clothing, my missing shoe, the blood smeared across my skin and the droplets trickling from my eyes.
I died that night but I’m still alive. Because of the mask I look the same but I know I’m someone different.
Encounter
She sat shaking, with her head on my shoulder, the warm wet patch growing with each tear. For three years she had put up with varying cruelty. Thoughts ran through her head an endless stream. She loved him and she hated him and he’d manipulated her and he had insulted her and he’d cheated on her, and he was always late and she always paid for everything and she thought they would marry. And their blissful holidays together, and they’d gazed into each others eyes, and he’d moved in with her and she didn’t know whether she could trust anything he had ever told her and he’d made her feel so amazing. And he’d made her cry and now it had to end.
The screech of the buzzer echoed round the flat as we realised someone would have to answer it. But moments later there was a knock on the door. He must have charmed someone from downstairs. I wasn’t looking forward to the scene I knew must follow.
Wiping the salt trails from her eyes, taking a deep breath she glanced through the peephole and answered the door. She threw herself into his orange arms, her golden hair mixing with his dark as he rested his head on hers. I sat there awkwardly, wondering idly if he used St. Tropez. Over her shoulder he winked at me, “Alright.” I allowed him a tight-lipped smile, holding back many things I wanted to say. I tried to understand what she saw. She couldn’t possibly give him another chance could she?
Her body trembled as he rocked her gently backwards and forwards, a bored expression on his face. “‘S ok darling I’m here now.” Now. Three hours late, as soon as possible. She slowly pulled back and stared into his eyes assessingly. She remembered him calling her ugly, him throwing her across the room, him breaking her arm, when she found he had cheated on her and him softly kissing her goodnight. His gaze met hers, the emptiness telling her how little he cared. “Thanks.” Before she would have forgiven him, held him close and kissed him, now she wanted to forget how she felt and push him away.
They went into her room that night and he was gone by the morning. He had told her he loved her, he needed her, things would get better. At breakfast there were no tears but no smiles. Sadly I felt it would only be a matter of time until again she sat shaking, with her head on my shoulder.
The screech of the buzzer echoed round the flat as we realised someone would have to answer it. But moments later there was a knock on the door. He must have charmed someone from downstairs. I wasn’t looking forward to the scene I knew must follow.
Wiping the salt trails from her eyes, taking a deep breath she glanced through the peephole and answered the door. She threw herself into his orange arms, her golden hair mixing with his dark as he rested his head on hers. I sat there awkwardly, wondering idly if he used St. Tropez. Over her shoulder he winked at me, “Alright.” I allowed him a tight-lipped smile, holding back many things I wanted to say. I tried to understand what she saw. She couldn’t possibly give him another chance could she?
Her body trembled as he rocked her gently backwards and forwards, a bored expression on his face. “‘S ok darling I’m here now.” Now. Three hours late, as soon as possible. She slowly pulled back and stared into his eyes assessingly. She remembered him calling her ugly, him throwing her across the room, him breaking her arm, when she found he had cheated on her and him softly kissing her goodnight. His gaze met hers, the emptiness telling her how little he cared. “Thanks.” Before she would have forgiven him, held him close and kissed him, now she wanted to forget how she felt and push him away.
They went into her room that night and he was gone by the morning. He had told her he loved her, he needed her, things would get better. At breakfast there were no tears but no smiles. Sadly I felt it would only be a matter of time until again she sat shaking, with her head on my shoulder.
Love's Clichés
They say they will "never leave" us, the people we love. They say "our love will last forever". They say "we have something special". "You mean the world to me." They say "no-one has ever felt like this before". And despite the clichés, despite having heard it before, we believe them - who's the fool here?
Clinging to the Memory
The stars on my ceiling start to fade, or maybe my eyes are closing. They’ve been there as long as I can remember and I keep meaning to take them down but something always stops me. Maybe it’s the fear of growing up. Maybe I just like them. They remind me of you and I'm not ready to let that memory go. If I leave them there, maybe you will come back to take them down.
Pop Culture
You are ok. I know after Big Brother you were convinced Mickey Mouse was going to propose and you'd have a Chantelle and Preston style wedding and live happily ever after like Jordan and Peter Andre after I'm a Celebrity Get Me out of Here. And no one, least of all you expected to catch him eating a Burger King after signing the big MacDonald's promotion with Justin Timberlake. But after a few Starbucks and a pint of Haagen-Dazs, you will get over it. You have that walk on part in Eastenders coming up. Just listen to a few itunes, check your facebook on your new apple and you'll feel better. So Mickey's been sent back to Hollywood. You don't need him. Go on a date with a footballer, sell your kiss and tell story to the Sun and you'll have Mickey begging you to take him back. And if all else fails, fight Gary Lineka for some Walkers salt and vinegar, they always do the trick.
Goodbye
Tears fall
from thick lined eyes,
down soft cheeks
dropping softly
soaking into the collar. More
tears fall
in streams
flowing salt trails
down soft cheeks.
Eyes redden as tissues
wipe, attempting to stop
tears fall,
unstoppable tears.
Sadness weaving its own pattern
Down soft cheeks.
Deep, choking breaths
shaking from pale lips, as
tears fall
down soft cheeks.
from thick lined eyes,
down soft cheeks
dropping softly
soaking into the collar. More
tears fall
in streams
flowing salt trails
down soft cheeks.
Eyes redden as tissues
wipe, attempting to stop
tears fall,
unstoppable tears.
Sadness weaving its own pattern
Down soft cheeks.
Deep, choking breaths
shaking from pale lips, as
tears fall
down soft cheeks.
And all for what?
Bombs fell from the sky,
Small children start to cry,
Down every London city street,
Good and evil here do meet,
No-one knows which side is right,
But none will lose without a fight,
Battle after battle will be won,
But of the winner we’ll see none,
For he stays hidden away,
In some place all night and day,
Out of the way of the bombs that fall,
Crashing down on wall after wall.
Small children start to cry,
Down every London city street,
Good and evil here do meet,
No-one knows which side is right,
But none will lose without a fight,
Battle after battle will be won,
But of the winner we’ll see none,
For he stays hidden away,
In some place all night and day,
Out of the way of the bombs that fall,
Crashing down on wall after wall.
Constraint
Looking into the skyline,
seeing the darkness through
the light.
The colours dance around me.
It is a magical night.
Warm arms around my waist,
their strength keeps me from flying free
but in those gaps of darkness
my mind soars.
He'll never have the whole of me.
seeing the darkness through
the light.
The colours dance around me.
It is a magical night.
Warm arms around my waist,
their strength keeps me from flying free
but in those gaps of darkness
my mind soars.
He'll never have the whole of me.
Potential
I am a bank account with high interest
but I only contain a few pounds.
I do not achieve my full potential,
but I could,
if you would let me.
but I only contain a few pounds.
I do not achieve my full potential,
but I could,
if you would let me.
I am the theatre
I am a play
constantly rehearsing.
I am the understudy whose leading lady always goes on.
I am left in the wings when standing centre stage
because my leading man won't give his best performance.
I'm not ready for the curtain,
but I can see it start to fall.
I am the encore that's never called for.
constantly rehearsing.
I am the understudy whose leading lady always goes on.
I am left in the wings when standing centre stage
because my leading man won't give his best performance.
I'm not ready for the curtain,
but I can see it start to fall.
I am the encore that's never called for.
Real
If the dragon is not so much slain as silenced,
If the knight doesn't sweep you off your feet,
If you've won the battle but not the war,
If your life is not a fantasy,
It really could be real.
If the knight doesn't sweep you off your feet,
If you've won the battle but not the war,
If your life is not a fantasy,
It really could be real.
Impairment Disorders’ Grace
Lateral thinking bubbly champagne. Mental disorder refers to table talk or behavioural conditions that discover the new elegance or decorations for a dinner party. The most taxonomic systems, dresses to charm, flatter and captivate. I now understand
the importance of cosmetic surgery only drinking red drinks. Fur or against getting what she wants. White botox retail therapy sublime textures. Light reflecting Aristotle Santa land. Have you been good enough from tropical beats to tempting bites a whole body experience?
Sparkle and smile home centre feel sure genuine warmth is airbrush legs. Create a room premature aging that takes you away repair. Experiences the caress of vanity dew-drop freshness make friends with the sun. Splash translation under the knife. Disco climbing centre proof of the power of the club. Finger tips beyond retro for students’ apple of your eye. When they go out alive and spinning
vulgarity is awoken. Millions a wrap buy the right thing winter grace. Feast the senses exclusively making mischief with a personal touch. Night falls indoors help Santa causing functional impairment and save Christmas. Academic criminologists have traditionally ignored enchanting penguins. Life inside the gates Jardin de Paris touched by effecting a change of this kind.
Sleeping rough money to burn he dives back into expensive hotels. Factual or fictional autumn behind the scenes to spice up your bedtime reading. Maximum pleasure service with a smile post-op misunderstanding and dismay. Flamboyant diamonds liposuction last minute with the bad boy of yoga. Break their spirit and strike a pose as they grow into themselves. Pampering ultimate lingerie destination smoked trout and goat’s cheese companion. Colourful life
absolutely free in Manhattan your neighbourhood dry cleaner. To match your style chocolate beauty death.
the importance of cosmetic surgery only drinking red drinks. Fur or against getting what she wants. White botox retail therapy sublime textures. Light reflecting Aristotle Santa land. Have you been good enough from tropical beats to tempting bites a whole body experience?
Sparkle and smile home centre feel sure genuine warmth is airbrush legs. Create a room premature aging that takes you away repair. Experiences the caress of vanity dew-drop freshness make friends with the sun. Splash translation under the knife. Disco climbing centre proof of the power of the club. Finger tips beyond retro for students’ apple of your eye. When they go out alive and spinning
vulgarity is awoken. Millions a wrap buy the right thing winter grace. Feast the senses exclusively making mischief with a personal touch. Night falls indoors help Santa causing functional impairment and save Christmas. Academic criminologists have traditionally ignored enchanting penguins. Life inside the gates Jardin de Paris touched by effecting a change of this kind.
Sleeping rough money to burn he dives back into expensive hotels. Factual or fictional autumn behind the scenes to spice up your bedtime reading. Maximum pleasure service with a smile post-op misunderstanding and dismay. Flamboyant diamonds liposuction last minute with the bad boy of yoga. Break their spirit and strike a pose as they grow into themselves. Pampering ultimate lingerie destination smoked trout and goat’s cheese companion. Colourful life
absolutely free in Manhattan your neighbourhood dry cleaner. To match your style chocolate beauty death.
Burning Chills
Through anguished nights I hear his cry
Broken hearts half mended lie
Still the whisper of shivering spine
Sending chills through ash and pine
Pulled through forces wise and old
Our non-fairy story forever told.
Broken hearts half mended lie
Still the whisper of shivering spine
Sending chills through ash and pine
Pulled through forces wise and old
Our non-fairy story forever told.
On That Bench
A whirlwind of emotions
so caught up in the sounds.
Spinning round in circles
we lift up to the clouds.
Swimming through the oceans
so careful not to drown,
wading through the water
the ripples circle round.
Spells of a magician
still sparkle in the air,
wands waving illusion,
no nightmares of despair.
Lost within the fortress
of greenery and leaves
but on that bench
we sit alone
lost within our dreams.
so caught up in the sounds.
Spinning round in circles
we lift up to the clouds.
Swimming through the oceans
so careful not to drown,
wading through the water
the ripples circle round.
Spells of a magician
still sparkle in the air,
wands waving illusion,
no nightmares of despair.
Lost within the fortress
of greenery and leaves
but on that bench
we sit alone
lost within our dreams.
Dispersing Tension
Fingers flying over small square buttons,
sentences growing across glass pages,
quickly clickerty clacking towards end,
fragmented ideas run through puzzled mind,
white sheets sprayed with letters spurt from the box,
kerchink snaps the binding block trapping all.
Smoke spirals circling up to ceiling,
scents of lavender soar the surroundings,
relaxation born from curling tendrils,
while the amber tipped length glows fiercely
devouring each breath of burning powder,
settling dust signifies its ending.
sentences growing across glass pages,
quickly clickerty clacking towards end,
fragmented ideas run through puzzled mind,
white sheets sprayed with letters spurt from the box,
kerchink snaps the binding block trapping all.
Smoke spirals circling up to ceiling,
scents of lavender soar the surroundings,
relaxation born from curling tendrils,
while the amber tipped length glows fiercely
devouring each breath of burning powder,
settling dust signifies its ending.
Tomorrow's Yesterday / Ode to Deception
Soft sheets of snow slicing through the Sahara,
like a heat wave in the North Pole.
The radiant glow of each crystal rain drop,
outshining the summer sun.
Blue Sapphires sparkling in an orangey hue,
like a puddle of sunshine eating it’s rays.
Water trickling in a frozen stream,
like a dead man’s omens wrong.
Heart beats racing when all feeling’s gone,
as a butterfly with but one wing.
Whispering trees waving their stillness,
like the ecstasy of exploding silence.
Something forgotten but never gone,
like a memory of tomorrow.
like a heat wave in the North Pole.
The radiant glow of each crystal rain drop,
outshining the summer sun.
Blue Sapphires sparkling in an orangey hue,
like a puddle of sunshine eating it’s rays.
Water trickling in a frozen stream,
like a dead man’s omens wrong.
Heart beats racing when all feeling’s gone,
as a butterfly with but one wing.
Whispering trees waving their stillness,
like the ecstasy of exploding silence.
Something forgotten but never gone,
like a memory of tomorrow.
The Blue Estuaries
Golden ripples cascading over cold shoulders.
Soft dark wool soaking up sun.
Pen in hand the words come,
Ink droplets erupt on the page.
Shining ripples toss side to side.
The clock ticks out half nine.
Gleaming dew blurs each windowpane.
Salt drops sprinkle on the page.
Blonde waves ripple as shoulders shake.
Silver tap drips out the time.
Red eyed rain on pink cheeks,
Trickling estuaries of a blank mind.
Soft dark wool soaking up sun.
Pen in hand the words come,
Ink droplets erupt on the page.
Shining ripples toss side to side.
The clock ticks out half nine.
Gleaming dew blurs each windowpane.
Salt drops sprinkle on the page.
Blonde waves ripple as shoulders shake.
Silver tap drips out the time.
Red eyed rain on pink cheeks,
Trickling estuaries of a blank mind.
Nothing Inside
Claustrophobia in an empty mansion,
Heartache in your lover’s arms,
Mystery with all the answers,
A snowstorm on a summer’s morning.
The shouting of a distant whisper,
Hopelessness in children’s smiles,
Transparent emotions hidden within,
Suitcases full with nothing inside.
Heartache in your lover’s arms,
Mystery with all the answers,
A snowstorm on a summer’s morning.
The shouting of a distant whisper,
Hopelessness in children’s smiles,
Transparent emotions hidden within,
Suitcases full with nothing inside.
Heart Ache
Red circles where rain has fallen,
Fog drifts through the brain,
Illusion shattered like broken glass,
Each breath brings forth such pain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
