Book written. Laptop closed. Now run.
A never ending sprawl of words
Torrents of emotive necessity;
They never say what I want,
Never explain how I feel.
There is a continuos need,
Some might say desire,
To push on towards the precipice
In the desperate hope they shall appear.
But if they do not it is I that shall cascade
Into the cool oblivion of the nothingness
That I so desperately seek to avoid.
They call me a poet
But me, I don’t know?
I just like to write
And the words seem to flow.
I’m told that my books
Seem to have an affect,
But I have my doubts
As I aren’t published yet!
I’m not comfortable happy
In what writing brings,
As I do it for me
Amongst few other things.
But if I’m getting a smile,
Or maybe a tear,
Then I guess that I’m happy
And shouldn’t just fear.
So thank you for caring
Enough to enjoy
And making this writer
One happy boy.
(Image courtesy richwp.com)
Shackled by my own brain
It refutes my every thought.
I would stab at it with verbal barbs,
But it is always one step ahead.
I would lose it in a darkened room,
Rob it of stimulation,
Twist a knife of nothingness into it.
But my brain sits patiently
Waiting for me to crack,
As it knows I must,
Before returning to its taunting,
Mocking my every action and reaction.
How can it be that ones biggest critic
That voice in the night,
Is your own?
(Image courtesy Andrei-Mischievous on deviantart.com)
There’s a ghost in the water
I no longer recognise
Trapped and alone in a reflective world
The eyes tell a story, but it is no longer my own
He touches the surface
I believe he strives to break free
But no release is there for this past impression
I shall not be returning to his ways of doubt
He may lurk beneath known boundaries
A reflection of failures gone
Liquidated, discarded, unwanted
But I know whenever I look down
The eyes staring back will be his, not mine
Best I stay away from the water
And leave my old friend to his depths
Whilst I breathe the fresh air
At long, long, last
(Image courtesy of Studio4496 on deviantart.com)
Deep, deep, down below
In a place that only I go
A pain is twisting at my soul
A fear that I will lose control
It pushes, prods and eggs at me
And tries to doubt my destiny
It writhes and scratches at my eyes
But fear alone is no surprise
So quench these thoughts of disbelief
Until my words will see relief
Then on that bright and hopeful day
I’ll tell my doubts to go away
(Image courtesy Google images)