Undead poetry

whispers of poems in every generation

long forgotten

bodies may decay and become rotten

But the words hang in the cold fresh autumnal air.

The undead poet from their grave may save

humanity still

it’s a battle of wills

selling poetry at bookshop tills.

softness and grace left in memories of one’s who knew them the most

although it’s his words live on like ghosts

a gnarled wizard staff

summons the poets craft

summoning words and stanzas

and questions rhymes and answers

Pulling them from sleepy faded ink

to relive times and make us think…

It’s all in your head

It’s all in your head

the schizophrenia

the uncertainty

behind the curtains of your mind

to be special,

to be magic is to be tragic

to be alone

than one of your drones

is your superhero ability or curse

left in the storm of denial

we are all crazy here

with broken smiles

token, broken people

who believe in science and logic

So pluck your theories from the air

and prove you care

you make the meaning

even if your dreaming

It’s all in your head

so drive yourself mad

and stand alone

even the devils throne

is not comfortable but it’s home

The erosion of empathy

You play hero I will play villain

though shades of grey exist and the truth not always willing

to rear it’s ugly head

filled with the expectation of being cancelled

and being heard

or Amber Heard

is different from being adept

or Johnny Depp.

we are divided down many lines and labels

and what we are being told merely a fable

when we can’t take it with a pinch of salt

and we halt

and can’t show a sign of empathy

How did life and judgement get so unjust

and all cards we hold are bust

because we no longer care just lust over celebrities

while our empathy is eroded and no treaty

or thought police AI can save us

from not understanding the people we see before us.

My last act

Cut off my sellotaped glasses

staring at asses

of girls I can’t have or marry

carry the child I am into the sham

bury all I am

did I give a damn.

yes yes yes I did…

amid tragic transformation

and a pure imagination

spoilt only by being a man

who cannot understand

the state of this world

So throw my body to the flames

a heart who can’t be tamed

full of tearful shame

and guilt ridden blame

I am the anger inside a coke bottle

shaken with mentos falling inside

afterwards fizzy fallout

I will be spent and full of doubt.

Peter Pan as a Man

Drifting from day dream dramas

Karma an unhinged beast

feasting on imagination

His righteous indignation

blushing red against his skin

but chained against his respectable aura

he didn’t want to grow up

He’d rather blow up

like a bomb

Songs gather enemies embolden

the golden days are over

fairies watch dying in the distance

His shadow takes over leading him on

Peter Pan as a man

He’s forgotten to dream

to feed the crocodile of time

these are the days that loose their shine

corporate suits kill

never land roots lost

We all grow up he’ll never settle down

lost in psychosis

waiting for cleansing osmosis

telling tales no one believes…

Voiceless child

I was wild and free once upon a time

a child with time and rhymes

but my parents can’t listen

just thought of me being bad

curbing my behaviour

they couldn’t be my saviours

I went quiet wanting to start a riot

It could have gone two different ways

but life strays on to one path

the aftermath of which

made me a background poet

my poetry is the ink I bleed

from wounds I don’t need

My parents need me to be their counsellor

but I can’t

I just can’t…

cycles can be broken

when loves awoken

but sometimes I want to fight back

to see the crack

of light through the walls.

I miss the days

I miss the bad days

the way you hate me

your words reverberate around my head

we are still in conversation

though in my imagination

sex and beastly claws

the way you wanted more than I could give

I cannot live

without thorns a rose wouldn’t be a rose

I am torn our love wasn’t really love without pain

I am just a blood stained hand holding on

a rose

it’s thorns like all your angry words cutting through skin

love is a tragedy we are all flawed within

yet romantic attachment

when it works

can heal the heart and make it beat like it’s going berserk.

In this aching

In this aching

waking dream we live in

I love you is hardest thing to mean

I wait,

but waiting has no solace

my heart I polish for you

but will the stains wash out?

I won’t doubt you are worth it.

Reaching me through the void

and shadows

I cried out to you when they held me down

In the A and E ward I told them who you were

But like big cats don’t always purr

you are something to be worshipped

glorified and feared

If perfect love has no fear

it is love that has been realised

and actualised

I wait in the shadows

dancing in the dark

love is the flames not just the spark

to light my way…