So many lines
So many phrases
Readers of all kinds
Still fucking amazes
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
So many lines
So many phrases
Readers of all kinds
Still fucking amazes
It’s hard
To know
What to say
Let alone
What to post
In fact
Never before
Have I been
So sure
About giving
Up the ghost
It’s about time
You reared
Your ugly head
I was panicked
Fearing
The worst
And yet soon
You’ll be wishing
I was still missing
As there’s no
Let-up
To my verse
Do you think
It helps
He said
Writing these wry
Little observations
Well, I would
Rather that
She said
Than suffer
Endless conversations
My five year anniversary,
Today
And still those feelings
Haven’t gone away
My poems are not
Very nice
Particularly warm,
Or fuzzy
But they do resonate
With those desolate
And who prefer their words
Bloody
I’m not jealous
Of your work
Your sales
Or, so called, talent
But you’re just so rude,
Now with your shitty attitude
Becoming more
And more apparent
I know that it must seem
She said
Like I’m arrogant and self centered
But that’s not it at all
She said
I just write how I feel uncensored
Back in the day
The words flowed freely
And I knew just what
To impart
But I’ve recently found
Since my new love’s in town
That for poems,
I’m no longer arsed
Time to tell your truth
He said
To stand up and face the crowd
I’m not sure how I’ll cope
She said
Saying all this stuff out loud
It reads more like
You just couldn’t be arsed
Your ending, descending
Into abject farce
Perhaps next time
You’ll be less weak willed
With your writing, exciting
And us feeling fulfilled
Now you’ve given your heart
He said
It’s time to write that book
I just don’t know where to start
She said
As it hurts so much to look
Why are you so depressing
He said
Why are your words so dark
Because my life is fucking distressing
She said
And so, therefore’s, my art
If you find my words too dreary
Then just scroll on, my dear
‘Cause if you are looking for cheery
There’s nothing for you here
It seems as if
You’ve missed me
And my morbid tales
Of woe
Yet how anyone
Could miss
This pretentious
Bullshit
I will never know
For all these thoughts
To make sense
It seems
They need
An audience
I just needed
A bit of a break
For both my heart
And my minds sake
But now I’m back
Make no mistake
As there are both knives to sharpen
And old coals to rake
When I first started
Posting here
I was struggling
To hold on
A deep sadness
Had engulfed me
And all
Of my hope
Was gone
My partner
Of nigh on
Twenty years
Had died
Just four months
Before
My heart
Was broken
And my life,
A token,
I was failing
To endure
Because, you see,
He'd been taken
From me
In the most horrific way
To witness
If you've never seen it
I can tell you,
With feeling,
Cancer's a cunt
Of an illness
So I began
To write again
As a way
To express
My emotions
Thinking,
At best,
I might get
Some rest
By recording
My rambling notions
I knew
From the start
Some readers
Would baulk
At the truths
That I'd lay bare
Suicidal thoughts
And self harm,
Of course,
All referenced
Without a care
But I had to be
Authentically me
And reflect
What I
Was feeling
Even though I knew
The words
I'd spew
May leave
More sensitive readers
Reeling
And yet here
I have found
Such a welcoming crowd
Who've helped me
Hugely
When times were tough
For their patience,
Kindness,
And understanding
I could never
Thank them
Enough
So if you find
From here on in
That I'm no longer posting
As often
Please know that you are,
In no small part,
The reason
I've started
To soften
And as for me
Well, I will see
If I can continue
To reduce
My pain
But I'll take
Some comfort
And feel
A little triumphant
Knowing,
At least,
I entertained
❤️
Well thank fuck for that
She said
As she walked away
With her empty head
Fair And Square
One
thousand
poems
And I am
finally
done
This
battle is
now over
And my
war has
been won
(Originally Posted 29.02.2020)
Sometimes,
As a writer,
All that you can do
Is to drop
The flowery language
And just tell
The fucking truth
In Memoriam
There is nothing
Left to do
There isn’t anything
Else to say
I just really
Fucking miss him
Every single day
Xxx
(Originally Posted 25.02.2022)
As the end
Draws ever near
I have to say
I’m feeling the fear
What will I do
If I don’t write
What will I do
With all this spite?
Pens Down
Nothing lasts
Forever
You know
Not you
Not me
And certainly not my poetry
(Originally Posted 17.02.2021)
I don’t even know
Why I write this shit
I don’t even like guns
Not one bit
If Only…
“Is that a gun in your pocket,
Or are you just pleased to see me?”
Bang.
(Originally Posted 17.02.2020)
Sometimes I read these and wonder
With all my insults and barbs
If I really have missed my calling
Writing alternative greetings cards
Black Letter Days
Are
you
sure
we’re
done
here
He
said
You’ve
got
nothing
more to
say?
Other
than
shove
those
candles
up your
arse
She
said
Oh, and
happy
birthday!
(Originally Posted 10.02.2021)
We put so much faith
In the words we use
When they’re so open
To misinterpretation
We quite often think
We all mean the same thing
When it’s actually just down
To perception
Meaningless
I
really
do love
you
She
said
I love
you
with
all my
heart
But
you
also
love
tomato
sauce
He
said
So
this
whole
thing’s
just a
farce
(Originally Posted 02.02.2020)
You’ve thought about a book
He said
For quite a number of years
You’ve got to find a way
He said
To let go of your fears
I feel more confident now
She said
That it is something I could do
But really what still bothers me
She said
Is which name I should use
Self Help
Why
do you
write
these
poems
He
said
If
you’re
not
going
to show
everyone?
Because
these
words
are
my life
She
said
They
are
not
for
just
anyone
(Originally Posted 29.01.2020)
At least you
Can look away
When the misery
Ensues
But these aren’t just
Words to me
They are actually
My issues
Well, You Asked…
Although
I find
your
writing
talent
genuinely
quite
considerable
Reading
your
words
over
again
really
does just
make me
miserable
(Originally Posted 28.01.2020)
As much as I love
That you read my words
And you praise them
Like you do
You have to know
As I deliver each blow
That I write more for me
Than you
Hecklers
Has
anyone
ever
told
you to
stop
He
said
With
these
bullshit
rhymes
you
spew
Oh
many,
many
times
She
said
And
I told
them
to piss
off
too
(Originally Posted 27.01.2021)
I don’t often achieve perfection
But I think this is pretty much it
A healthy dose
Of what I feel the most
With just a little rapier-like wit
The Queen Bee
Oh, I’ll point many a finger
In order to right these wrongs
But for her I’ll reserve
The most passion and verve
And the sharpest of razor like tongues
(Originally Posted 26.01.2021)
Most days the process is simple
Words flow as easy as the pain
But I feel so numb at times
That when it comes to rhymes
I doubt they will ever flow again
The Writer’s Anguish
I don’t
think
I have
anything
to say
Today
Perhaps
there
will be
more
sorrow
Tomorrow
So
I will
wait to
pick up
my pen
Then
For
I fear
I wouldn’t
even
know how
Now
(Originally Posted 25.01.2020)
I know when I
Use the word ‘cunt’
To some people it’s
An awful affront
So I’d never use it
As a simple diss
Instead I reserve it
For those who it fits
Leopards
Just
because
now
You
taunt
me from
afar
You’re
still
a cunt
And you
know
you are
(Originally Posted 24.01.2020)
A face you wouldn’t tire
Of thumping
With such a countenance
You’ve been cursed
But such a thing
Would be unbecoming
So instead
I’ll use my words
Pulling No Punches
Come for me again
My friend
And events will turn apace
Your head will spin
As that shit eating grin
Is wiped right off your face
(Originally Posted 18.01.2021)
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