Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Aug 2016 10:19pm
17th Aug 2016 10:19pm
Woodlouse with a deathwish
Walking up the hill, if I can call it walking...
I was leaning forward in the hope that I made it there.
I watched a woodlouse dart for under my barefoot.
I wondered about the kind of day it might have been having.
I wondered if it hadn't wanted me to redirect my pace.
The kid with the brights eyes was carrying his can again today.
He stared wildly into the passers-by:
Throwing threats at a light skinned black man
who carried on walking.
Then I passed him and he looked down.
His eyes are those that are hell bent on something I do not understand,
but...
I was leaning forward in the hope that I made it there.
I watched a woodlouse dart for under my barefoot.
I wondered about the kind of day it might have been having.
I wondered if it hadn't wanted me to redirect my pace.
The kid with the brights eyes was carrying his can again today.
He stared wildly into the passers-by:
Throwing threats at a light skinned black man
who carried on walking.
Then I passed him and he looked down.
His eyes are those that are hell bent on something I do not understand,
but...
928 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2016 12:03pm
3rd Jul 2016 12:03pm
Houdini
It must have been through the window,
but it's a second floor window.
Without the assistance of another, you can't get out;
not without taking the keys with you,
but they're next to the speaker where I left them.
No note, no number, just the half smoked cigarette
that I didn't want to stand in the cold of the open window
and watch her smoke,
so I told her she didn't need it.
I'm scared of walking downstairs,
what if she's sat at the dining table with the rest of the household
with reassuring hands on her shoulder and the leaflet about God...
but it's a second floor window.
Without the assistance of another, you can't get out;
not without taking the keys with you,
but they're next to the speaker where I left them.
No note, no number, just the half smoked cigarette
that I didn't want to stand in the cold of the open window
and watch her smoke,
so I told her she didn't need it.
I'm scared of walking downstairs,
what if she's sat at the dining table with the rest of the household
with reassuring hands on her shoulder and the leaflet about God...
982 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st May 2016 00:22am
21st May 2016 00:22am
The most beautiful thing in town
I’ve just finished drinking good beer,
served to me by the most beautiful
thing in town.
She taps her hands against her thighs
when she has nothing to do
and looks at me occasionally.
There are a handful of other men looking.
Now, I am in bed
breathing deeply
at ease.
I told her that she was fucking stunning
just before I left
and for a second I saw a grimace
on her face.
I wondered about it,
but then I smiled again.
I’ve just finished drinking good beer
served to me by the most beautiful
thing in...
served to me by the most beautiful
thing in town.
She taps her hands against her thighs
when she has nothing to do
and looks at me occasionally.
There are a handful of other men looking.
Now, I am in bed
breathing deeply
at ease.
I told her that she was fucking stunning
just before I left
and for a second I saw a grimace
on her face.
I wondered about it,
but then I smiled again.
I’ve just finished drinking good beer
served to me by the most beautiful
thing in...
974 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Apr 2015 7:39am
27th Apr 2015 7:39am
welcoming committee
There's always someone close to the train doors
Waiting for my body weight
To not so politely ask
If they wouldn't mind standing aside.
They are always reluctant,
But I am solid.
07:30 is too early
For an insight in to herd mentality
I need long baths
And the chime of a meditation bell.
I am ready for you,
My dearest Monday,
You and all the other fuckers
Who follow.
Waiting for my body weight
To not so politely ask
If they wouldn't mind standing aside.
They are always reluctant,
But I am solid.
07:30 is too early
For an insight in to herd mentality
I need long baths
And the chime of a meditation bell.
I am ready for you,
My dearest Monday,
You and all the other fuckers
Who follow.
1129 reads
8 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
21st Jan 2015 1:00pm
21st Jan 2015 1:00pm
Individuation: 1
Even looking at the page in this way
needing to shit, needing to shower
needing to eat, needing to rest
not really needing any of those things
just needing to feel how it felt.
That pattern was a necessity
now it comes as an option
and therefore loses its urgency
and all its meaning
even though I know I could always make it mean.
See, somewhere in between falling asleep
and my alarm that wakes me
in to an unemployed world
so that I hungrily jog to the boxing gym
where I spend an hour feeling just how disposable stress...
needing to shit, needing to shower
needing to eat, needing to rest
not really needing any of those things
just needing to feel how it felt.
That pattern was a necessity
now it comes as an option
and therefore loses its urgency
and all its meaning
even though I know I could always make it mean.
See, somewhere in between falling asleep
and my alarm that wakes me
in to an unemployed world
so that I hungrily jog to the boxing gym
where I spend an hour feeling just how disposable stress...
1420 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2014 5:14pm
3rd Jun 2014 5:14pm
Check up, sir?
I'm sat in a strange room
waiting for the landlord to take the rent;
to let the idea set in concrete.
I'm on my own.
I'm three days drunk.
I'm just putting on a suit
so I can go out and make it four.
Try my luck with the ladies
even though they'll catch
the sadness in my eyes
and they'll want the hell away from me.
Oh to have a hand to hold.
Still, it doesn't matter.
Not much of it does.
It will be back to work
and staring at the ceiling soon enough,
but in the meantime
let's drag a little chaos around.
waiting for the landlord to take the rent;
to let the idea set in concrete.
I'm on my own.
I'm three days drunk.
I'm just putting on a suit
so I can go out and make it four.
Try my luck with the ladies
even though they'll catch
the sadness in my eyes
and they'll want the hell away from me.
Oh to have a hand to hold.
Still, it doesn't matter.
Not much of it does.
It will be back to work
and staring at the ceiling soon enough,
but in the meantime
let's drag a little chaos around.
1128 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
13th May 2014 8:29am
13th May 2014 8:29am
Not so much a love letter
I can’t remember the last time 07:30 filled me with the urgency to write; it’s easy to imagine that this is a first. The cup of coffee next to me pleads for a cigarette, but I question its intentions. It will leave me sluggish; almost drugged at this hour in which I need my mind. Yet, I think I already know that I am giving in to it. Coffee and cigarettes, and my weakness to romanticism…
It’s 07:47 now and the smoke takes to my nose whilst I type with both hands. I can curl in to a ball - my knees tucked in to my chest- and face the ceiling whilst I execute fifteen pull-ups. Sarah is...
It’s 07:47 now and the smoke takes to my nose whilst I type with both hands. I can curl in to a ball - my knees tucked in to my chest- and face the ceiling whilst I execute fifteen pull-ups. Sarah is...
1352 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Apr 2014 1:27pm
27th Apr 2014 1:27pm
For want of a better word
Take all of my poems,
past, present and future.
Take my words
and how I string them together
to put a smile on your face
or worry in your heart.
Take this physique
that I have built.
Take these ideas
that I form,
the books I've read,
the music I've heard
the love I've made.
Take it all.
You could take it all,
if you'd only give me
your peace.
past, present and future.
Take my words
and how I string them together
to put a smile on your face
or worry in your heart.
Take this physique
that I have built.
Take these ideas
that I form,
the books I've read,
the music I've heard
the love I've made.
Take it all.
You could take it all,
if you'd only give me
your peace.
1344 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Mar 2014 9:30pm
30th Mar 2014 9:30pm
1hr 27mins @ 190 degrees, but don't forget the potatoes
I thought I'd stop by
in between the assignment
-deadline tomorrow morning-
the first chapter of another novel
I won't finish,
cooking dinner,
running a bath,
mowing a senile woman's lawn,
feeling tired.
I can't remember the last time
my eyes burnt like this.
It was probably the last time
I spent the previous night drinking hard,
staring some big black rude cunt into submission,
cursing the woman I'm supposed to love
and then sleeping on the sofa.
My alarm is set for 06:00.
another day on the site
lifting the...
in between the assignment
-deadline tomorrow morning-
the first chapter of another novel
I won't finish,
cooking dinner,
running a bath,
mowing a senile woman's lawn,
feeling tired.
I can't remember the last time
my eyes burnt like this.
It was probably the last time
I spent the previous night drinking hard,
staring some big black rude cunt into submission,
cursing the woman I'm supposed to love
and then sleeping on the sofa.
My alarm is set for 06:00.
another day on the site
lifting the...
1176 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Feb 2014 11:10pm
1st Feb 2014 11:10pm
The Essay
Those bastards have demanded
3,000 words on a person centred approach
to counselling.
I've bashed out four times more than that
in short stories
whilst trying to write the damn thing.
Truth be told
I just don't see the point
in having my topic decided for me.
I thrive in freedom
and as a result
a stranger has experienced
what it is to let go.
Someone not so strange
has watched the world happen.
I was almost ready for someone
that none of us know
watch an old man stare out of the window
of a crowded bus
whilst...
3,000 words on a person centred approach
to counselling.
I've bashed out four times more than that
in short stories
whilst trying to write the damn thing.
Truth be told
I just don't see the point
in having my topic decided for me.
I thrive in freedom
and as a result
a stranger has experienced
what it is to let go.
Someone not so strange
has watched the world happen.
I was almost ready for someone
that none of us know
watch an old man stare out of the window
of a crowded bus
whilst...
913 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Feb 2014 10:36pm
1st Feb 2014 10:36pm
Heartburn
All I have is my gym headphones
giving me just enough to block somethings out,
but in reality I'd rather be with Dylan or Zandt.
It feels odd trying to put something together
with this muscle mass.
I'd be better off with my hood pulled over my head
pacing the pavements
feeling my heart race.
Instead, the ashtray is smoking
and the empty cans are looking
more like a party as I go on.
This is bullshit,
and I apologise if you see it the same way.
Prose is where the man grows.
This is just a trap.
A staggering display of...
giving me just enough to block somethings out,
but in reality I'd rather be with Dylan or Zandt.
It feels odd trying to put something together
with this muscle mass.
I'd be better off with my hood pulled over my head
pacing the pavements
feeling my heart race.
Instead, the ashtray is smoking
and the empty cans are looking
more like a party as I go on.
This is bullshit,
and I apologise if you see it the same way.
Prose is where the man grows.
This is just a trap.
A staggering display of...
1457 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
