Prison of loneliness

From the lake of fire

to the snake of desire

I am lonely.

Hell is carrying around loneliness with you

it grows out of all perspective

it grows with you

it starts with a child’s heart

of wanting acceptance and love

people’s love

then it turns into anger and rage

that you cannot have those connections you yearn for

that you burn for

in later life

a maddened heart torn apart of the fear

that you will never see one person from one day to next to make meaningful conversation

that ache in your heart becomes more than a sensation

You learn that your needs won’t ever be met

that life has caught you in its net

But you are forever alone.

No one knows what you go through

in truth even if they saw your entire life

their perspective wouldn’t change

or see yours, isn’t it strange?

to be cast adrift in world that promises much

and delivers very little

hearts grow cold and brittle

and they break in many ways

Not just in half in the centre

you may plan your ventures

you may look for adventure

but your only friend is you

and love is only love if that’s the truth

The devil on a cross

The whisper of a shadow song

Morning star no glory

just a story

I am just lived backwards

hidden track words

scars like lines across paper

can I save her?

I am not what you think

drinking from a cup of agony

no God can save me

but death won’t enslave me

I am midnight verse

nails won’t surrender to my skin

the truth they told you the lies worn thin.

We are gathered here today

We are gathered here today

To bear witness

to pray for the best of ourselves

we buried

so we could fill our food shelves

and work jobs we hate

but not abbreviate

our own sadness

madness caves us in

we are lost

in depraved cravings

as another migrants ship sinks

where is our humanity

we are on the brink

of degrading and hating our own species

or has that ship sailed on its own sea of faeces

I don’t know so say a prayer

for the people we could have been

if life wasn’t so mean

and we hadn’t of adopted

and been co-opted

into ideologies of hate

as we masterbate

over our own tribal race

and forget that we supposed to love every face.

This wasn’t the life that was advertised

I am surprised

and yet lies

are a belief of some kind

they advertised this life but it has been unkind.

They teased social mobility

the agility to move into the middle class

but aspirations

fall short

they distort

where realised truths stands the door

to the psychiatric ward

where holidays abroad

stand a benefits trap

a DWP map

with no way out

I doubt

I will find a way

into a future a brighter day.

This life isn’t as advertised

through google goggles

through YouTube models

I don’t have a car

three kids and a wife

I have pain and strife

Pessimism is my crutch

no offers or as much

No one gives me a chance at a job

they just call me a benefits slob

I look after my Dad as carer

they swear yeah

even when diagnosed with a serious mental health problem

they think I robbing

tax payers

and no amount of praying

will solve

when the life as advertised dissolves.

Honesty

People don’t want truth

delusions and illusions

are more loved

more accepted

more respected

Honesty, a fools game

people douse you in shame

a repulsive mix

stick and stones

may break my bones

but words will dethrone

a king from his own throne

and people will turn away

and leave him alone

the mirror of truth is always distorted

we want to keep it that way

we aren’t objective

we want to be respected

but our public relations feed on Facebook

would bleed away if ever we showed who really are

Our fragility and our fragile ego

Break like a dropped model of Lego.

My poetry never gets read

My poetry never gets read

it hides in street corners instead

it lurks in the shadows of grey days

and seeps like a Smokey cigar out the window in a haze

It gathers at poetry recitals

where it splutters and mumbles

into action

my poetry is just a distraction

an interaction between a mad man and an audience

an ordinate scream

like pissing in a stream

and wondering what it smelt like

starving poets told to go on hikes

My poetry never gets read

it feeds the angels instead

but they don’t share

or care

enough to tell

what poetry of mine is from heaven and what is from hell.

I just like writing

poetry which is like lyrics without musical interlude

I know it’s rude but never mind you won’t read it anyway

and if you do have nice day…

Memories and the hooks of the mind

The hooks of the mind

can be unkind

they get caught in the past

in happy go lucky memories cast

in fires of joy

or they get caught in the skin

of the unkind memories we keep deep within

sometimes I want to fish with those hooks

catch memories where I want to look

nostalgic daydreams

but the present is all we really have

when we realise that memories are trying for a land grab

the fish like memories we have stored

need a sea

but between you and me and I just want to be…

A different operating system

My iOS

is analytical

my circular thinking sometimes is an ellipses

my blacklight is the moon

I sometimes feel a sense of doom

pessimistic gloom

whether I am apple, android or Linux driving this computers machine

I laugh until I scream

My search bar is Firefox

not Google

It’s has an interesting internet history

why is a mystery!

special interests

religion

Science

and philosophy

A cacophony of voices

and anxiety about choices

My App Store has flaws

is yet to be developed

my operating system

has ghost code

I sometimes have to try to avoid goblin mode

I find social stuff hard

Autism spectrum disorder

It’s hard to understand

even with AI

I know I am wired differently

I just don’t know why?

I already said I loved you

I already said I loved you

I already read the words

I already looked for answers

in the sky your heart and the free flying birds

I already grasped for your hand

I already whispered to your soul

I already took the plunge

but fell short of my goal

I already spent days with you

I already kissed your cheek

I already have your voice in my head

I already am that mad every week

the loss of you spiralling and making me sad

the chances are we will never meet again

but I am glad we were once close

I already thought about it already is my ghost…