The change from boy to man (my journey)

I remember my dad calling me a hobbledehoy

neither man or boy

teen ageing is hard
I became a wild card
bottling up my emotions and becoming unstable
I remember the good days and bad
But at sixteen
in my wild dreams
I broke down in sobs and screams
at eighteen
I was diagnosed schizophrenic
but I realise that madness is a pandemic
and most of us will flounder
in its sea of tears

School to prison train

Welcome aboard the school to prison line

detentions then exclusion

no empathy, no reasons explored

just decided by the school board

No counselling, no mental health help

just bad behaviour labelled

sent to pupil referral unit after an permanent exclusion

no knowledge of what I was suffering at home

my Dad is alcoholic and my Mum and Dad argue and fight all time

I am alone as the TV drones

I don’t want to end up in prison

but life is a schism

of what you’ve been given

and it starts will being labelled thick

a joker, a troublemaker, a prick

and school teachers have no time

to form a relationship with someone who is hard work

and they are told discipline is key and I am a jerk

they won’t reach me if I am in hell of my parents and circumstances making

and it easier to push me out the door

Yesterday the police knocked on my door and my Dad threatened to kick the shit out me if happens again

cause I got into a fight

prison he says is where I am going to end up in if don’t buck up my ideas

but my Dad and Mum are too busy squabbling to see my tears.

The Character we are

In Stories written

I am smitten by hero or heroin

Life is stranger that the art we stare in

fairy tale romances underneath the surface glances

uncovers a setting

But I am betting you couldn’t of picked a better villain from your library book

But look,

and you will see

that there is a reason behind

their evil mentality.

It starts with there parents story

as it recycles on

Unhappiness detachment from love

is a somber song

sometimes played from a harp.

We are not the people who we thought

we are the stories we tell ourselves

the book our character is the one we tell ourselves we ought to play

but in the light of day

and in the night time

we hold onto the person we’ve told ourselves

we are,

whether we are lion king

or scar

we are not the character written on our forehead by god or the stars

we are the character fashioned and shaped by life our parents and ourselves

But do you know we can change our fortunes by changing the way we think

about ourselves in our own head

by burying the past and leaving it for dead.

Inside the mad man

The clammer of the overthinking overwhelmed mind

chattering away with itself like a overused hard drive.

Hope, but she is a caged bird waiting for her master

faith but all faith is enslaved in disaster.

A sonnet of despair, a song of solitude

a monologue of filth and the rude

a innocent boy and a prude.

A crazy overbearing self talk squawk

a chalk drawing of heart that’s been erased.

A penis looking up at the sky

A black dog biting its owner

A loner waiting for the strength to cry.

Freedom from attachment

but a wanting to be engaged and attached

Discourse divorced a face scratched.

silence like a scream

a dream turning into a nightmare

a blank stare

a daydream being expelled.

Hell carrying on into a lonely hello

An eye open that cannot be shut

a slut shutdown clown

love becoming only a noun.

We are Boys

man up?
When did our yearning to protect and serve
and keep people safe?
turn into rage and wanting danger?
We are no stranger to tragedy
avidly wrestling with our desire for violence
was it taught by society and our father, are they keeping silent?

Soldiers growing colder each day
to the god of man we pray
to teach us a better way.

Anger our, “man up” emotion
lost in its devotion
we need different role models action man won’t cut it.
As we destroy ourselves fighting and wrestling with the anger inside
as we collide with the alternate worlds we hide
inside the potential we have
and are told to bite at ourselves
as “man up” is the only thing we hear
we disappear from the innocence
we held dear
the blood stained tear
gives way more often to anger and fear.

Are you burning bright or burning away

You’re gold?
Yeah gold plated
What’s underneath your skin?

Abbreviated 
Silence longing 

Life sold cheap

You reap what you know 

Selling yourself

Where is it getting your mental health?

To be a make up covered scar

Instead of a star

Chain smoking to fill your time

Life is lived through the eyes of grime

We are in your little band

Miserable we still don’t understand 

Life in conflict makes a good story

You tell yourself I don’t want to be ordinary

Debt ridden though and poor

You’re fighting your invisible war

and yet the people and the politicians don’t care anymore

You tell yourself it’ll get better
The glass half full to aspire

Lights your fire 
are you burning bright

Or burning away.