depression

Splinters

I give my hand
You stare at it
Green eyes meet look away
Nobody is perfect
I know
But I’m here for you
Don’t you see?
You can’t
You’ve turned the
Other way.
I tried to carry
Your cross with you
But you’d rather
Let it fall
And break into

Splinters.

Maybe heroes aren’t real
After all.
Maybe the cross we carry
Will be the last weight
That weighs down our
Hopelessly lost purpled souls.

Advertisements

magnet

a magnet destined be
attraction to rusted metal
broken parts withering
in the emergency lanes of highways
back and forth back and forth
mutated and malignant
spreading spreading spreading
tear drops watering seedless ground
no seedlings of hope grow
oil spills of the mind
thoughts have no traction
spin out of control
crash
red yellow green
flashing just flashing
mixed diluted wasted rancid

scrap yard hope
damaged goods are goods still
a lone eye spots potential in destruction
rust has a colour to see
and that single eye is me

Constellations of Thought

He stares out of the misty window
into the fogged, greying world
illuminated and sliced open
by one warm Moonbeam of Hope.
Cruising down this Highway Avenue of Life –
the nostalgic Music filling the voids left behind
by the chemical wars fought inside –
he is at ease.

His blue eyes stretch beyond infinities of Sky…
His glossy gaze meets the Moon’s Rays
of Hope in this bumper-to-bumper world:
a Constellation of nine Stars smile brightly
through the darkness of space
as they frame the Moon’s Secretive Smile.
It is here –
in the Honeymoon of his Thoughts –
that he finds the Mysteries of the Moon’s Beauty
tucked away neatly in a Pocket of Sky.

His Thoughts are held together by his five star Mind,
found dancing in the Moonlight of Inspiration,
as his body is showered in his tears
with a ceiling of glittering Stars staring down.
His sadness is blown away with the withered words of hurt
he releases from his Mind,
like a thunder-cloud that releases its darkness
to create Newness.

Four-cornered gods of reflection dictating their insecurities
are reduced to simple stardust in the Moon’s Fire
which ignites his Mind
making real, through word, the Daydreams of his Love.
He has one less problem of heartache tonight
as he lays his pain to rest in his marshmallow lined thoughts
in the creative cloud-mansion of his Future.

Sonnet of Consequence

I am a canvas with a unique shade –
Why do you laugh and stare with such disgust?
This is my life, this is how I was made;
We are born the same and return to dust.
The words break me like stones break fragile glass,
I sink deeper into my own despair:
I fight against the hate in every class;
Life’s face is cruel when you are past repair.
Every time I get up to fight again,
I do not want to be kept down and out!
Hope gets blurred through the strain and pain;
I counter the hateful torturous shout.
Yet deep within I know there is defence:
Karma gets us and plans the consequence.

A Fatal Truth

I’m told it’s okay to be me,
but you don’t know how it feels not to be free.
It’s okay to say that things will get better,
but sometimes they don’t.

Nobody notices someone who is in the dark;
a shadow of my brother because he’s the spark.
My parents walk over me like mat;
they wipe their feet on me and smile to him.

I don’t want sympathy, money, even love –
Just want to be noticed, acknowledged, smiled at.

Then I think…
Not everyone is meant to be great;
mediocrity, depression, loneliness: my fate.