The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
From nothing I came And to nothing will I return Between these an eternal agony of existing Bearing me onward Towards oblivion A nobody I was A nobody I will be Lost in this wilderness of being Reminding me always Of my failure Born nowhere I will die nowhere Alone along many paths have I stumbled Unguided, unknown Unwanted
16/03/2021
Leave a CommentWhat did they feel I wonder? As they were swept away on that hideous wave. That same wave that so terribly burnt the names Hiroshima and Nagasaki Into our dull consciousness. Were they afraid, did they feel terror In those few seconds? Did they think on their loved ones, Did they know they were going to die, Or were they just living their ordinary lives? Were the children playing in the streets? Were the mothers shopping, washing, talking? Were the fathers working as they had always done? Did they have brothers I wonder Fighting at the front? So many died in that instant, in that twinkling of an eye, All on the orders of a solitary man so far away. And so many of the undead Suffered so terribly. Was it worth it? And now so many years later What lessons have we learnt? Could it ever happen again? Will so many people die so needlessly Or can we learn to live in peace?
13/01/1990
Leave a CommentThe candle in the corner splutters and dies Fading slowly to dimness Casting strange dancing shadows on the walls Until it is engulfed by growing darkness And only a glowing ember is left Where its life used to be And then that too disappears Just the smoke remains Forlornly forcing its way heavenward And then it too is gone And all is left in cold blackness. Who had warmed their frozen hands Around this self-same flame? How many children had played late at night In its warm and friendly light? How much was done Whilst this candle gave of itself Unselfishly, unceasingly Using what it had only for others Until all was consumed And it left us alone with the dark The cold and lonely dark
04/08/1992
Leave a CommentSuburban walls, suburban gardens,
Suburban bricks
Confront me
A decade on
So much has changed
Behind my suburban exterior
Am I as unrecognisable
As the scene before me?
As cold, as hard, as bleak?
So much changed
Beneath the same shell
Like these houses and shops
Am I, like them,
Decaying,
Rotting from within?
Have these ten long and weary years
So etched their pain
Into the very stones of my soul
That I may never return
To what I was?
But if I could
Would I?
Have I endured the torturing winds
And tormenting rains
For nothing?
Have I watched them erode my hard exterior
And expose my raw and bloody flesh
To the tempestuous elements
Just to say
"It is right,
Right to suffer so"?
No, no I will not
But stand and shout
At my new found strength
Swept clean by those who seek to hurt
And once more return
Return to this suburbia
Unlike those around
In their safe suburban lives
A newcomer
Returning to my fathers' land
To these
Suburban walls, suburban gardens,
Suburban bricks
13/07/1990
Leave a CommentHow many years have these stones
Here stood?
Mute watchers of hurrying seasons
Here where once lived voices
'Neath turf and heather roofed
Lie now open to storms hungry soul
Windows where eyes once gazed
On walls and ferns and burn below
Now lie open to the clouds
Like needle eye unthread
All is silent now
Except for winds harsh howl
Garden grazed by black faced sheep
Lichen grows on fireplace
Where peat a family kept warm
All is cold now
Untended
Unheeded
As I walk on
18/09/1998
Leave a CommentAnd last night
As you lay
On my sofa
Curled up
Fetal-like
Innocent
Like a baby
I wanted
To tell you
How I feel
But I did not
I left you
Undisturbed
As you lay
On my sofa
18/09/2000
Leave a CommentThe radio plays
Gently in the background
Of my life.
The light throws dim shadows
Onto the dreary walls
Of my room.
It is so cold here now
Without you.
You have left an emptiness
That nothing fills.
An icy silence
Of nothing heard
Except my breathing
Harsh and halting.
The hours are long,
Time creeps past.
The hands of the clock
On the wall
Are resistant
To my will,
They are persistent
In their motionlessness.
I fill my life with boredom
And remembrances.
I warm my spiritless heart
With tales of happier days
And wait in frighted hope.
For you.
12/07/1990
Leave a CommentEagles cry, eagles haunt
Above moorland
Of grouse
And heather
And life
Myriad sheep trod paths
Lead me deeper
Into this delightful, deceptive freedom
On the edge
Of my existence
Fresh, cold, sharp winds
Buffet me
And roar
Deep gullies
In my soul
Cutting deep
They wound
And cleanse
And drive cobwebs
Long grown
From my being
And once again
I am me
And I am free
18/09/1998
Leave a CommentWinter sunrise
Salmon vapoured clouds
In beryl sky swim
Geese flying
In playful arrowed form
Pass over me
My footfall
On iced grass remains
A lonely path
By still steaming river
Days early silence
As life from darkened sleep arises
Assails a brooding reverie
And returns me whole
To my humanity
26/11/2009
Leave a Comment