Individuality Lost

“Standing in the shade with shadows and strewn leaves, I feel a strange affinity with the world all around. Like me, this zone of the dark and lost is displaced from the English summer everyone else inhabits. Scattered fragments of seasons lost, we crinkle together, the leaves and I, discussing our cool displeasure. I may remain here, if the shadows will have me, unless that means individuality lost?”


In Frustrations Found

People  065

I tear at my hair with the savage intent of a hungry tiger. This is not how it is meant to be. This is not… not… but I cannot find the words, they are lost in a mist of tumbling red where glaring eyes fire and vicious disassemblers of dreams lurk. I have lost myself. I am lost.

Breathe, I say. Write just write. Lose yourself to worlds and places others do not know. Throw yourself upon midnight dreams and cloak yourself in darkness. Cast yourself upon swords of your own creation and lick away the blood with false relish. They will not find you, I insist. They will never know I’m here, I try to convince myself. But, they do. I am always found.

Frustrations abound in this cacophony of me, this unsettling of self. I shake my head and scream, but nobody hears, not even me. Fingers clench until my fists turn white shaking with something… something, but I’m unsure what?

This world is a strange and wonderful place. There is so much potential, so much scope to make marvels of all that we know and all that we see. This world is a place for all people, all minds and bodies, but not mine. Like a jigsaw with an extra piece, I am surplus to this place. I find it… frustrating!

Shed Feathers

Weightless, I’m drifting

Beneath infinite skies

A feathered abrasion

Brushing against unseen stars,

But I feel them,

Yes, I feel them.

Insignificant, I’m not,

Yet I realise as I travel

That there is so much more than I know;

There is so much more than we know.

I occupy a space

A tiny, microscopic moment

That would otherwise be empty.

Am I just filler

Or an important part of a greater whole?

Or, am I nothing more than a shed feather

That hasn’t yet fallen to earth?

Uncertain, I drift on

And on

And on

Questions for an Obscure Moon

Within the realms of tangent moon,
 Out of sync and lost too soon,
 Resides a man, a myth, a place,
 Who seeks to find a touch of grace,
 Who hopes beneath that obscure shard
 To quest for peace, it shouldn’t be hard.
 And though the world is oh so still,
 The night becalmed upon his sill,
 The dream, his wish, his holy grail
 Does look like it is set to fail.
 But whilst that strip of silver shines,
 Then onwards he shall seek to climb.
 And though the moon may one day rise
 No more obscure, no more surprise,
 It still shall rest in same dark sky
 And he’ll no longer question, why?



 I feel soluble,
 Dispersing atoms
 Effervescing away.
 A curative,
 The answer to myself,
 I bubble and hiss,
 Never settling.
 Or is it the world that dissolves,
 Whilst I remain stationary?
 Sitting at the universe’s centre,
 Contemplating self,
 I watch eternity flittering away,
 Or I apart from it: thinking.
 I am soluble, in flux,
 But wish to be whole.

The Little Snowflake

A polar wind swept a snowflake away from the North
 Over climates temperate it soared
 Over emerald and sapphire and colours so bold
 That the little snowflake begged to be set down
 The wind knew what it would mean if it acquiesced
 But it could not deny his Arctic passenger’s one request
 So the wind abated and the snowflake fell
 To land on an English meadow and melt into the land
 The snowflake was not meant to be there, not yet
 And the autumnal climate killed it
 But it was the best thirty seconds of the snowflake’s short life


 You may be obscured,
 Hidden behind cotton clouds,
 Temporarily vanquished,
 Greyed out,
 But the vapourous cumulations
 Will burn away,
 And the fire that rages
 Behind that sapphire facade,
 That protective fluffing,
 Shall return.
 Will I gaze skywards,
 As I do now,
 Beseeching golden globe
 To appear midst heavenly splendour
 This mortal soul?
 No, it shames me to say.
 Instead, I shall turn my eyes from you
 In fear of pain
 And look to the ground
 Where I belong.

So Lost

 I’ve lost my beginning, my middle and end
 Perhaps, around the corner, or the next bend?
 I try to remember from what, when and where,
 But regardless of trying, I end up nowhere!
 I must have been somewhere, someone, or something,
 But desolate memories reveal not a thing.
 I’ll continue to search and strive for the light
 As darkness surrounds in obsidian night.
 The worst thing is hoping for that’s when it hits
 That maybe I’m nothing it tears me to bits.
 Surely everyone’s noticed at some point in time,
 I’m just hoping that maybe that some point is mine.