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Tag: poetry

For Many Years Have I

For Many Years Have I

For many years have I
Alone wandered
On the uneven path
Of my life
While the darkness devoured me
And my fears assailed me
And my guilt besieged me
I would cry on the wind
But no-one heard
I would scream to the stars
But no-one cared
I would shout to the emptiness
But no-one came
And on I walked
Isolated
Desolate
Scared
Scarred
Longing for the greater night
To overwhelm my tired soul
And end the pain

07/02/2018

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I Scream To The Wind

I Scream To The Wind

I scream to the wind
That blows through forest
And grass and me

I scream to the wind
That howls and cuts
Ice cold, hoar sharp

I scream to the wind
That whines and listens
Not to the pain

I scream to the wind
And cry my fear
Cold, unheeded, alone

09/02/2004

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This Too Crowded Island

This Too Crowded Island

This too crowded island
Drains me
Cold wind, cold rain, cold people
Chill me
Sadden me
Make me
Homeless in my own home
Take me
On dark, dark roads
Going from nowhere
To nowhere
Through brick built jungles
Sterile sanctuary of sterile souls
Grey dank faces watching me
Through dusty windows of dust minds
Unattractive, unappealing, unclean
Living corpses crying
Putrid babbles
Of nothingness
And hate
Yet I remain
Unheard
Unseen
Unwanted
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What About Me?

What About Me?

What about me
Living just to be
What they want me to be?
No job, no wife, no car
No life to live so far
And they just talk and cheat,
And lie and steal and bleat
About each other
The truth they smother
While this world bleeds and stutters and dies
But their lies
Stifle our cries,
Our goodbyes
To those we love
Both those above,
And those below, now and always.
No-one plays
In these streets any more
Everyone is shut behind their door
Afraid to give
Or live
Their lives.
Earth strives
To breathe
We leave
Our children
Love hidden
We face each other
Lover,
Friend, another
As strangers

09/12/2000

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At Swartmodder – I

At Swartmodder – I

Moon shining down
Upon a lunar landscape
Of reds and browns and pinks and blacks and greys and greens
Shimmering in the heat
Of a thousand ovens

Quiver trees stand guard
Over vast emptinesses
Of sand and rock
Hot, burning my hands
As I stoop and touch their barrenness,
Their wildness and their loneliness

I feel as if I am alone
With this landscape
Nothing exists but us
Both blown by the same hot winds
Both scorched by the same hot sun
Is there any reality but ours?

15/02/1991

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