Poet Introduction I am a multi-genre poet who believes in breaking the rules and that anyone regardless of educational attainments can be a poet. Been writing poetry since I was 15, I am now 59. I sometimes write as a provocateur so if you are easily offended stay away :-)
Sometimes a blessing and a curse Despite in knowledge I immerse Mental word rhymes I rehearse It just wonít work; I canít coerce My mind in flight a wet traverse Itís something really quite perverse My predicament in being terse Itís getting hard to intersperse Rhyming words that are diverse Without becoming nonsense verse Me, myself and I converse I †canít agree, my selfís converse White flag arise Iím in reverse Of poetry Iím just averse
I have three ghosts They visit me regularly They mostly come at night Mostly; They come to give me fright To shock me from inertia To motivate my lazy spirit They are righteous ghosts Holy spirits if you will Or even if you wonít; They never knock They never write They never phone They just arrive like Post it note reminders Of nothing but bad memories
First, Is the spirit of my childhood Imprisoned by evil Tortured for itís gratification In the name of And in sight of The Lord of Hosts No time...
The truth is harsh, sense it The truth is sharp, feel it The truth always cuts The truth bruises and scars The truth always hurts The truth will make you cry The truth will make you scream The truth is poison injected The truth insults freely The truth will not set you free The truth will bind you with force The truth will chain you in shackles Nobody tells the truth Nobody wants to hear the truth Nobody can handle the truth
ďThe truth is a fib, told by a liar full of spite and amorality † signifying evil.Ē
he's a man on a bus he's a man in his mid fifties, born in the sixties. Robbed of his childhood. Told he'd be no good. No good at anything. Useless at everything. Good for nothing, he would come to nothing. Hammered down and broken, love was always just a token Constantly told,he didnít belong Spent the last 54 years, consistently proving them wrong
I am innocent, Truly innocent. Iíve done nothing wrong. I would never do such a thing. This must be a mistake. Youíve go the wrong person. Iím clearly not the one, Youíre looking for. Despite your weapons. Despite your handcuffs. Despite your arrest. Despite my rights heard and understood. Despite your bars and despite your jail. I: am not guilty like all those around me, in this jail. I am here in a place I donít belong As is everyone here, Innocent and Without blemish.
Everyone but everyone floats here. I contemplate my weightlessness and reflect on my life as it was. A life spent frivolously. a life lived in the fullness of light Or what I perceived to be light. Imagine my rude awakening into a field of similar beings. Initially confused in a purple fog along with other floating cadavers. The fog dissipates, ĎThereís thousands of them,í ĎTens of thousands,í not making a solitary sound. all are the same, all are mute. We are restricted from any movement, each a prisoner of its own damaged...
The spring of hope was followed by the summer of love. This was followed by the autumn of rejection, which was followed by the winter of hate. I experienced all four seasons In just one week. It was the week that I met you.
Party streamers, like over cooked spaghetti hang despondently from the bar optics. A half empty bottle of champagne sports a cheap looking pink paper party hat. Five cardboard party horns, like cylindrical pyramids Stand erect, their dampened mouthpieces pointing towards heaven. They remain upright despite movement from the current swell
Thereís a silver tray of half moon sliced fruit. They sit like a new deck of cards, fanned out Evenly. The odd one missing. Condensation surrounds the ice bucket like a ballerinaís tu-tu....