You look at me with eyes that don’t remember

In your eyes the tragic reminder

that memories fade

into the void

and get destroyed

I loved you more than my heart conveyed

though time is a blade

it cuts out the good and bad

memories or leaves scars

the stars that aligned

now fate has mined

and we with left separated when we should have been entwined.

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.

Waking up

Waking up on a cold brown leather sofa

Not knowing who I am

a man and women ask me how I am?

I ask them if they have any children?

they say no

then a child comes in from the voids light

it’s her birthday

she says I will never drive as knight rider plays on tv

then she asks for a sister and two appear

more birthday girls although one older and one younger

Years on I went to that house

a girl not the same one says something terrible happened here to you

because of you

I hear it in the whispers on the telephone

I see visions of the man being arrested

how did I get home?

memories fragmented

this waking dream won’t relent

I am prevented from seeing what happened

The heart felt home

The warmth of a fire

in a welcoming home.

The way the words settled I was not alone,

time spent with friends

the tying of loose ends

and memories made in all seasons

reasons why we made this place is home

the love and friendship I was shown

whether playing board games with others

or just laying and chilling out under bed covers

we made this our home

and we feel safe and respected

with freedom to roam.

Exceptional

In the days when the exception they say

doesn’t need correction.

we are all creative

but some have it beaten out of us

at some stage

the war the exceptional person rages

is either to have their words heard

or to keep their creative side alive

and not have it brutalised or strangled

an Angel or messenger of light

has to fight to maintain their angle of light

and their perspective and sight.

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…

My search has ended

My search has ended

When two worlds collided

I expected fireworks

but they burn away

Fiz pop and bang

then no longer are a thing.

I love you but colours fade

I love you

my deeper shade my midnight blue

I know this life’s a prison for some

but I love it’s sweet bitter agony

sometimes

it’s the loneliness I hate.

Raised by cartoon heroes

Here’s a hand here’s a slap

here’s life without a map

parents too busy discuss

never mind get to know their children and trust in them

stem the flow.

I was raised by cartoon heroes

and superhero shows

and the games I played

sonic on the mega drive I never strayed

from their ideals

but my happiness was stolen

by those who created my tears

I missed out on my parents knowing what I could have been if they had of listened through the years.

Disability

Tired in the daytime after having a good nights rest

being tested all the time by voices which are more than a pest

depressions iron curtains are coming down again

I am in the Misty mountains of pain which I climb daily

and my assailant is attacking me with delusions and fearful paranoia

I think the only hope is to battle with things that can destroy yah

I can sometimes withstand

But the terrible gravity of situation is hard for me to even understand…

I can’t be the man you want

No matter how you change the font

words stay the same

I know I am not your type, am I to blame?

I could be made of muscles with six pack and broad shoulder and arms of Steel

but I am not

I could be a scientist with a silver tongue eloquent or just very well hung

I am me there is only one version of myself

I can’t change

or rearrange

I realise my limitations

I won’t be able to perform and act as an imitation

I am who I am

Love me or let me go

for its you I love I know you know!