Angels and Demons

Don't tell me what I want to hear
Tell me what you know
We are all alike beneath the lights
Angels and demons every one
Holding ourselves steady
Like stones in a stream
Till in the current we are gone

Don't waste your time on idleness
Stacking towers of broken sticks
My shattered bones refuse to shift
As we ride the tides of chill midnight
Alone and cast eternally adrift
But for fleeting fragile comradship
Of angels and demons

You are not me
I am not you
Together we are better
Than either of us

Sick

He waits upon the quilted covers
Clutched so close like tangled lovers
Breathing filled but not with breath
Snot in head and phlegm in chest
He rides upon the tides of night
Awaking to the sound of light

Why so stupid lame and immature?
The same and so you are!

Girls

He strikes a pose
He mouths a phrase
He goes and goes
For days and days
This noble fool
This love-struck boy
This addled tool
This rattle toy
He pronounces love
He announces praise
He prattles on
For days and days
Will he stop?
I know not when
But that he shall
Begin again

A smile is the best part of every day

So much for Summer. Stupid Clouds.

Why so sad?
A shadow hides the sun
Warmth crawls off your back
Just remember that
Today was fun

Remember that
Tomorrow's not guarenteed
But it's enough for me
To sit in the cold
And wait here for the sun

My problems seem so big, Because I am so small

Beady strings of black bits
Ants lining up for plastic
Protection from the future
Forgiveness for the past with
Man made, mass produced
Salvation's cheap and overused
It always comes at interest
It always costs your soul

God gives like subliminal messages.

Some thoughts

Well Hi.

I dunno if anyone actually reads this. But if you do, I'd like to give you a bit of an insight as to how I roll. When writing poetry, sometimes what I write is about a real person (subjects vary), sometimes that person is just an imaginary one (like Im writing about someone I'm imagining) and sometimes it's just the poetry that pops into my head. So yeh, these days if I have no specific subject in mind I tend to default to writing about a girl. I'm a guy who writes poetry about girls. Sue me.

Yeh. And often a phrase, couplet, or poem just springs into my mind, when I read a book or watch a movie. Sometimes I post em in as is. Sometimes I flesh them out some more. Even I don't know who these poems are about. Truth puddings.

So yeh. That's more or less how I write poems. Oh and sometimes I write poems expressing how other people feel, or at least how I IMAGINE they feel. These ones are generally the ones I like best, and I think generally the best written. Mostly bescause I think my own ones are over emotional toffle and arsehat, or mindlessly pointless as not being about anyone in partikilar, or whatnot.

Im in the process of putting a book of poetry together that I hope to one day publish and stuff. Hopefully I can weed out the arsehat and leave in ones that will be worth your time, dear reader (if in fact you exist)

So I leave you with about as much insight into my musings as I presently have. If you wish to know who/what a poem is really about, please do ask. I'm usually happy to say.

Truth puddings.

Is it ironic that the punishment for murder is life?

I am silence
Embracing the cold
Unconscious
As it wraps blue wires
Up my tingling arms
I hug me
Squeeze out the cold
To replace it
With some of my own
I am waiting
For the warm unknown
Holding nothing
But patience
Leaking into the cold

Heavy Heart

It must be ripe
I'm just waiting
For it to fall

Packed buses, jammed trains
Every day the same, rinse repeat
Wipe the dirt from your feet
When you get off

Empty cars, clogged motorways
Destined for a heartattack
Driving as we conduct our day
A careful few meters apart

Those shells won't stop you
Falling apart
When the bombs fall
When buildings take flight
And come to rest
Upon your head
All that distance will be
Nothing at all

It wasn't the way
That he wasn't sure
Though he wasn't exactly
A smooth operator
Forgetting the lines
Forgetting himself
Periodically left
Under a spell
It wasn't his smile
His charms or his looks
He had little to offer
With just those on the books
It wasn't his caring
His sharing, his daring
His eyes, his surprise
His hurting, his fearing
It wasn't enough

Neverborn

She said goodbye
In her secret sadness
Though she never said hello
It painted the day
In blacks and blues

She soaks her crying
In silent blankets
And hid in her room
Guilt came without knocking
And left a bigger bruise

She couldn't hold on
Wasn't sure she wanted to
She couldn't hold herself together
What could she do for two?

She just wanted to be held
But it was gone in an instant
Left her naked, cold, sad
And the hole held her gaze
Searching for a plastic smile
In her other pants.

I can't hold the fort alone
Or sit on a horse so high
Who deserves the bigger hurt
Who deserves to be the one to cry?
I'm just a wounded soul
Like her, just like her
A headstrong fool with bleeding eyes.

Jumptown Jingle

I woke up and down
The dust pack rode
A mannerly hoarse
Throated fellow.
He looked up the town
On the map he held down
As I meandered
Over to hello
Stranger he wasn't
Restrained in the least
As he reigned in his beast
My eyes took in creased
Facial features
He nodded off then
To the right and the left
And he left, never slowed
Down the dust packed road
A mannerly hoarse
Throated fellow.

Even camels have toes

A Prayer

Lord
Help me to trust you most
When it hurts
When I'm screaming
For something else

There once was a man who smelled of poo
Not surprisingly he didn't have any friends.

I like the sound
Of me falling apart
It reminds me what
I fell down for
The innocence
Of guilt at heart
Only this
And nothing more.

We'd love you for who you are
If only you were perfect

Friday the 13th

And I never even knew
One more minute left
Before this day is through
And anything I had to say
I didn't say to you
But fall apart
My Joan of Arc
And I will fall down too

I once fell so hard I broke my heart

We spend our days
In mortal plays
Piling anthills to the sun
Long walking ways
And try unsay
The things we've never done

I think therefore I am

I feel therefore I hurt.

So tired and why
Waste another day
Pretending not to be

Fall apart on daily basis
Just so I can put me back together
But all the horses and men
Couldn't do it again
Death at fifteen paces

I once woke up so much
That I fell asleep on the other side

Not happy
with the quality
or lack thereof
He is writing.
Grrrrrr.



Once I helped a pumpkin laugh
It sounded like a hollow drum
When all the seeds they rattled round
Just so the sound could come



I am the paper
That lives under a planet
Where the wild winds blow
So cold they freeze the molecules
I am underwritten
Turned over so noone reads
Pick me up and try to peek
The words will make you freeze


..... Yeah.
..... Yeah. Suck.

There was a time
When he was old enough
To give a damn
When having a thought
To rattle round
Made the difference
But now he wastes time
Stitching other people's
And calling them his own

He put his thoughts on paper
Half afraid he'd forget them
Half afraid he'd remember

This day
One like any other
Morning noon and evening
With yesterday as mother
Today
Unique in it's own way
As it gently strings
Present past and future

Inspiration

Gravity never gives up
It only gives down

I know you pull yourself apart
Every single day
Just remember to pick the pieces up
OK?

Three Things for You to Do

Sing a song for the broken hearted
Paint a picture for the lost
Catch me in a golden whisper

Wake up at night sometimes
And think slow syrup thoughts
That remind you of the importance
Of thinking with your heart
Though these foggy musings
Will ebb with the tide of morning
Tomorrow you will be left
With the imprint of their shape
Like footprints in the sand
Yet they reach back
And warm the callouses of your soul

If you build your dreams into skyscrapers
Keep an eye out for planes

The silences of baited breath

Gurgle

You remind me of the sound of a sink
The last gasp of the dying drink

you remind me of perfection
viewed from the other side

Poem of Random Typing while Tired

It's the colour of shine
Oh don't weigh me down
If I had a feather for everyone
Acting like such a clown
I'd maybe try to fly

Oh the fleece is warm and soft
Like the lining of your eyes
When the morning light plays havoc
On an unsuspecting mind

Every single day
An idiot
Lost in the dust
Of my own passing

Once I fell in love with
The end of a sentence
But these days it's all question marks
And nothing makes sense

My brain is dead
It jumped into the acid
And all burned up
I hope at least it's warm