i float

the vastness of the ocean
has been replaced
by the safety of a kiddy pool

i float
under a lifeguards watchful gaze
passively accepting
the artificiality of my confines
only vaguely aware
of a time
not long ago
when I could look upon the horizon
and feel the sun upon my skin

memories
of riding atop the waves
both terrified and exhilarated
by nature’s limitless beauty
have been replaced
by the scent of chlorine
penetrating my nose
and irritating my eyes

but I don’t care
i am lulled by the warmth of the water
and comforted by the knowledge
that soon
i will forget
the taste of salt water
and the thrill of that first plunge
into the depth
of the ocean’s
infinite embrace

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

fear

why’d i give up
so much of myself
out of fear
of my own
blossoming
greatness?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

broken pottery

there are parts of me
that want to speak
but i know that i can’t think
that doesn’t feel right
i don’t know
can i have another bite?

it’s funny

when i was young
i would sacrifice my meal
i had a little serving
and my brother was there
and he was looking
so i gave it to him
leaving me with nothing

but now i’m still holding that nothing
a plate of nothingness
while my brother’s got everything

i see him there
i see him holding
i see him consuming
my mother’s attention
my mother’s love
the part of her that i wanted
into his cup that’s overflowing
my cups empty
my cups broken
but then i look over and see his cup
and his cups open
it’s porous
it’s flowing
and i’m like maybe i could bring my cup and his cup and place them together

healing
uniting
connecting

but that requires more of me
more of he
more of we
together
but our past pulled us apart
so maybe to fill that cup
i express myself with this art
and i see the art in him
and he sees the art in me
but maybe there’s a togetherness of space where we can be free
be together and be free
two pieces of broken pottery

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

apathy

there is something
uniquely terrifying
about watching your emotions
dissipate before your eyes

witnessing the fear
of your fear falling away
itself fall away
into the abyss of apathy

leaving nothing
but a gentle malaise
and a question
you don’t care enough to answer

is it worse
to feel pain
or to not feel anything
at all?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

capitalistic desire

here’s to the capitalistic desire
to sacrifice our lives
in order to have the
most fancy coffin
just to flex on
our friends
that we didn’t have time for
and to afford a headstone
chiselled with a quote
espousing the value
of hard work
and dedication
to something beyond ourselves
that no one will read

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Distortions

My mind creates this world.
How can you say I am not God?
Every character, every scene, every aspect;
All a variation of myself.

Created in my image, created in my mind.
Both with and without intention.
The universe forever expanding
Inwardly as it does outwardly.

Distortions of reality,
More elegant than any alternate world.
Why should I leave?

Here I am something,
Simultaneously at, in and above myself.
A beautiful story of consciousness,
Played in a theatre of dreams.

Time passes, I open my eyes.
My focus wanes and I begin to forget.
Only the feelings remain,
Glorious certainty, a guide to my higher self.
Fragments of my truth are written and told.
Just a mere representation, a lie.
Imagination takes hold,
Corrupting, corroding, filling the gaps.

Stop. Let me remember.
Let me feel again,
I want the unadulterated truth.

I want to be back there again,
Where I feel divine,
Where it feels right.

Where I don't feel like a character
In someone else's dream.
I want to be present,
Both creating and existing simultaneously.

Doubts creep in,
It was just a beautiful distortion of reality,
A test of faith. Nothing to see here,
Move along. I am awake. It's gone.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, or Audiobook.

Reflections Of The Self

The world is a mirror to your soul,
Your happiness will be shown
On the faces of strangers,
Your fear will flicker in their eyes,
Your hope will express itself
In the poetry you read, as too will your ills.

The mirror rejects what you are not,
Thus the world will always be you,
In this way you are trapped,
Rejecting love when you need it most,
And the advice you most need to hear.

Yet you are not stagnant,
And neither is the mood of the world,
What happens in one, distorts the other,
Words can scratch, and actions can crack,
So keep a watch on its surface,
And a polishing rag in hand.

Realise that the mirror is in fact imperfect,
Subject to change, manipulation and control,
Those reflections are more than phantasms,
They have a force that can break.
So watch the mirror,
Be on guard against its influence,
But also influence your guard,
For your actions may inadvertently
Shatter someone’s soul.

---

This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, or Audiobook.

Stuck Inside My Mind

This is freestyle improve poem, you can watch the video on Instagram, listen to the audio here

i feel stuck inside my brain
the anxiety is gone
but the pain still remains
my childhood on repeat
embodying the shame
fear
loneliness
self-blame
what remains but tears?
what remains but fears?
what remains but me staring into my own soul?
trying to fill my own
i'm not whole
i'm wanting to see
i'm wanting to be
i'm wanting to move
i'm wanting to be free
but the pain she has me
maybe it's the past
the past me that she had
she grabbed me
held me
hurt me
i don't know me
all those things
are they a memory or they of false lie?
you know gaslighting myself
through the past memories of me?
trauma comes trauma goes
what am i left with?
nobody knows just fucking rhymes
just me speaking to myself
counting through times
saving time
stopping time
because right now i want to be here in this time
now
here
now
right now
what is it about now that feels so unsafe?
nothing's wrong
this thing this place is fine
i am safe
but my mind it feels like a wafe
i'm weak
i feel unable to speak
unless i'm alone
unless i'm holding this phone
unless i'm looking into my own eyes
unless i'm remembering what i despise
a lot of the time
it's myself the ways that i responded to things well beyond me
her eyes who could see through me
i don't even know me
the things that i like
the things that i do
do i actually like them or are they a response to you?
to what you did?
to what you said?
to what you made me feel?
my life will work is just to heal
what sort of life is that?
what sort of a life is one in response
reactive instead of proactive
responding to triggers inside my body?
i feel that i want to heal
not lie dead or turn over and keel
but it's fucking hard to keep going
to keep on showing up
to keep moving
to keep hoping
stop myself from blowing up
i put these words out there
and wonder they’ll corrupt another person like me
into thinking differently
into speaking out
into seeking help
into understanding what it's all about
that they're not alone
that they can find a home
i say all of these things
but it's all a fucking lie
because my body and my brain seem to want to fucking die
waking up in tears
reverberating in fear
it seems clear that this battle is ongoing
that have to keep on showing up
that i have to keep on moving
but it's just hard
it's hard to keep on grooving when the music is playing
sounds like a funeral march
starch words
my mouth is parched
shouldn't go to alcohol
shouldn't drink
because then i'd be unable to think
vomit those words down the sink
with the food
with what i eat
with the souls of my feet
i walk across broken glass
across jagged rocks
raw skin no socks
let alone shoes let alone
support or help
who would break the news?
who would share such blues?
thank god that i have children to keep me here
i have to remain to help them
to show them
to teach them how to tie their shoes
to hold them hand in hand
to walk them across the land
to carry them on my shoulders
to say
‘hey look at life it can be grand!’
i'm blessed with the baggage of life
weighed down by love
despite all of the inner strife
i'm weighed down but i wonder whether my father was also
he had me
he had my brother
yet he fell
to another
to himself
to the trauma he had
generational it’s cyclic
so that i wonder
i hold my kids up
i walk with them
i show them the way
but the way is blocked
by my own dismay
they see it in my eyes
they see it in my tears
they see me suffering
they see my fears
and they know that they are part me
genetically
environmentally
are they cursed like me?
are they cursed to see the world bleakly?
are they cursed to walk meekly
in fear of themselves
and how they respond to every little thing?
people say i'm brave for speaking out thusly
to put my thoughts here
to share what's in here
but it's not brave
it’s all i can do to save myself
to express the inner mess
from the safety of a screen
when really i can't handle being seen
what would it mean for you to see my soul?
to see me
actually
to see my whole?
my whole self
these words
my words
the pain it needs to become my wealth because i can't handle doing anything else
take a breath
drop all expectations
be here now
you are safe
good thoughts
bad thoughts
it's ok to have all thoughts
these are the words i say to myself
daily
let it go and just feel
take some time
take a breath
heal
it's okay
it's okay to look to not know your way
i say these words to myself every day
i say them in my head when i'm watching my kids play
when he's over there and i'm here and we're just a metre away
but i can't seem to breach that inner gap
i can't seem to take that step to have him and hold him and put him in my lap and hug him and say him it's okay to say that it's just a day
that daddy will be okay
because i don't know
and yet i persist
i keep going
i keep trying to find my way
i keep trying to see the truth
so if you're listened all of this way
10 minutes
turn this video off
sit in the sun
speak
find a way to play to make this day go your way
to slay
to play
or at least just to allay
some of the negativity
keeping your brain at bay
see you next time
hey

---

This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.

You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

BRAT

Erotica, R-18+

Sucking his dick
whilst he’s on the phone.
Getting off on his attempts
to stifle a moan.

Going faster,
making him stutter.
Going deeper,
he’s melting like butter.

He pushes you away,
you hold on tight.
Hands around his waist,
you’ll win this fight.

He wants you to stop,
he wants you to keep going.
This is an important business call!
You just shrug and keep blowing.

He covers the receiver
and calls you a brat.
Tells you in no uncertain terms,
you’re in for a stern chat.

But that’s not now
and he’s about to blow.
You decide to edge him,
you decide to take it slow.

He shakes his head
and pushes your head down.
You started this honey,
so let’s not clown around.

You take him all the way
using your tongue as well.
He cums down your throat,
now you’re excited as hell.

The call is over
and now you’re bound.
Listen here brat
it’s your turn to be pound.

There’s nothing you can do
you’re reaping what you sowed.
Now you’re on the edge,
your man has slowed.

It lasts for hours,
repeatedly taking you to the brink.
He’s so fucking good,
you can barely think.

It’s both pleasure and pain,
a beautiful torture.
At last he takes you,
at last you merger.

He ends with a warning,
don’t you dare do that again.
But you both know you will,
it’s how you stay sane.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

All I See

all I see
when I look inside
is the hole
where the memories
of my father
should be

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.