I awoke without thought,
Just blank in my head
And a dream still hauntingly
Hung by a thread,
Unravelling a deepening
Hole in my chest.
Made of Rain – A poem
I can’t touch the heart of the rain, it can only touch me
As it slips right through my fingers
Where a liquid hand can’t be held.
And the rain may have a beat but it’s too soft and quick
To be human and too rhythmic to be alive.
The rain never stutters or skips a beat
And I can dance in it but it can’t dance with me.
I can speak a soliloquy and pretend the rain is listening
But it can never confess a single secret back to me.
The rain may smell like a breath or a familiar comfort
But the rain is everything that has ever felt lonely.
Drunk on too much life – A poem
I have days lined up in bottles,
Hours pouring out the tap.
I fill glass after glass with minutes
And drink more time than can elapse.
In Between Days (and other blackout poems)
These are a few blackout poems I have created, some recently and some from a little while ago. I like doing these when I want to write something but don’t want to conjure something from the depths of my brain. It’s also an interesting restriction to place upon one’s creative capacity, because there are only…
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I wonder how I look when I don't quite look like me – A poem
I found you in a song the other day
And you’ve been stuck in my head ever since.
You hide in faceless laughs and sideways glances,
An illusion in the corner of my eye.
I think I see a flicker of familiar and then
You’re gone, lingering as a distant relic
Or existing in only two dimensions –
Frozen in photographs
Where I don’t quite look like me.
The mind is a time machine – A poem
The mind is a time machine,
A look back upon our lives machine,
Think forward with our mind machine.
But there’s a difference between what you saw
And what you see, through a growing and different
Set of the same eyes.
Between two lives – A poem (+ photos)
It’s all a part of life’s flux, the growing pains,
the stiffening ache – perhaps just the body’s lullaby.
Stop trying to move while curled and cocooned
Just rest before becoming a butterfly.
What the dream people see – A poem
I’m told I was conjured from a flickering light,
Or dancing phosphenes –
Dots of red and blue and green
Arranging to become me.
But I don’t remember it any more than
A child remembers being born.
Then again, I don’t remember life at all.
You keep me in the present – A poem
With you there are no daydreams
Or holding on to night dreams.
You are all my dreams in one.
A pocket dream in the coat of reality,
A door opened to a world bigger on the inside with
Life chaotically everywhere,
But in here it is still and only ever now.
Songs in the skull – A poem
To day dreaming-ly hum is perhaps
My brain’s break
From my own thoughts,
Because it feels like somebody else
Is thinking them.
