Untold and Unheard

Ignorance. Clawing.
Hysterical babble.
Bursts of insanity.
Hissed through ruby lips.
Forced into wary minds.

Take off your hat.
Bow. Courtesy.
Tell a few lies.
Break a few hearts.
Kill a few insects.

Will injure your pride.
Bruising the bruises.
That have just started to heal.


Does that key fit?

A secret
Written down
The edges scorched
The words faded
Dense findings


To be read
Judgment unnecessary
Lips sealed
The string unwound

The truth


The spotlight
A blinding beam
Rested on You
The world watches
You stand

And tell your secret
To a world
That refuses to listen
They watch their feet
And pretend not to hear
You screaming
Pretend not to see
You breaking down

Pretending their
Are not questioning


The Wrongs of Rights

Mistakes. The bloodied path. That we all choose to take.
Naively unaware. Of the scheme that has been concocted to terrify.
Games you always lose. Pathetically.

Pick a number. Any number.
Just pick the number I choose.
I might just let you keep all your fingers.

Glitches. Piercing lights. That blind. That burn.
Holes in our eyes. Holes destined to be filled with manure.

Red crosses stamped on bare skin.
Underneath our protection.
Frequent fashion changes. Intolerable.
Wilde deserves a gold star.

Immobile targets. Eventually to be assassinated.
Killed. Slaughtered.
Important people are assassinated.
You are unimportant.

Philosophies. Written on gold scripts.
Beautiful calligraphy. Precise flicks and curves.
To be sold. Flogged to the highest bidder.

That bidder with the smug expression.
Adultery seeping out of his pores.
With the unlit cigar held delicately in his fingers.
Tapping it occasionally. Into the ash tray.
Poised on my head.
I polished his shoes.

And you paid for them.
with your mistakes
he has gained
a place
a deserved place
where you have left
a smudge.

Forced Realisation

The open field.
The beautiful night sky.
The fairytale romance.
The melody of the rain.

Take a picture.
Hide it. Bury it.
I plan to steal it all.
With a pen
and my imagination.


Stained Desires

A beautiful whirlwind,
Overcoming reality.

Feeding pulses,
Yeild the truth,
That our subconscious,

Is for the weak,
Believe in miracles.

Our imagination,
Will deliver.

Are seized,
Then discarded,
Finally to be unlocked,
Becoming vulnerable.

Intoxicating smoke.

Drunken lust.

Seething anger.

Agonising want.

All contained,
Our fragile minds.

Waiting patiently,
In a frozen state.


An anticipated aftermath

Instant judgment. An implanted idea.
Dull green vibrations. Pulsing and invading.
Our feeble observations,
clouded by our own

The lines. Drawn. By an unsteady hand.
To imitate. So called boundaries.
But. You know. And I know.
Our minds thrive with poison.
Sweet poison.
By nature, we are
Mechanically engineered to become adjudicators.
Of what is seen. Heard.
Or passed along on a scrap of paper.

Realisation will kill. Destroy our screens.
That we have created. To protect.
To reflect their mistakes.
Behind the screen we smirk. We laugh.

We bleed from our self inflicted scars.
We sweat from the realisation.
That someone. Somewhere.
Is watching from behind their screen.
Their reflected screen.
Knowing. Of their cruelty.
Of my cruelty.
Snickering at my naivety.
While watching me,
Painfully laughing at myself.


I colour outside the lines in invisible ink

I think
This could be
The best
Poem of all poems
To have ever been written
by an narcissistic nobody

Just a word
A word proclaiming
The inexpressible
Truth behind the spark
That has been implanted there
Put where my lack of burn
Used to dwell

The words magically emerge
The ideas form unaided
Beautiful appropriateness
Or trivial idiocy
Crafting itself
Then unwinding
Just to fold intricately
Into a final masterpiece

What do you see
I see blood
Willingly drained
To customise
Do you like it?

Is blinded
By the light
I can only ever see



I watch that clock all day. Ticking.
My eyes wander. All over its face.
Tracing the numbers mentally.

What am I waiting for?

Time to leave. Time to stay. Time to decide.
Time to eat more pills.
My happy place awaits.
Time holds the key.
I sit here watching. Always. Watching.

My mind reasons tactically.
If I’m watching the time.
If I never take my eyes of its face.
Time can never creep up on me.
All my time is accounted for.
Seconds. Minutes. Hours.
Time is unwillingly keeping me company.

I never waste time.
And time can never waste me.


A Grudge

Windows. Shielded.
Doors. Bolted and locked.
Light bulbs. Unscrewed.
Escape is impossible.
As impossible as trying to slam a revolving door.
That’s just about as impossible as it gets.

I have the handcuffs oiled.
The tape taken out of its packaging.
Camera poised to record this artistic masterpiece.
Much more cultural than a bunch of uncoordinated strokes.

Could I ask you a question?
A quite intrusive question. Very. Personal.
Are you proud of the wrongs you’ve committed?
Did they deserve them? Yes?

This would make a great screenplay.
Ranking the not-so-must-see movie of the year.

It would make bucket loads.
Of bad critique news articles.

Our names in big neon lights.
A two person hit list composed by the producers.

Prestigious awards given in snazzy venues.
Awards made of plastic. Venues wired up to be destroyed.

I’ll should just walk away. I will. But not yet.
I have a game to finish.
Mind games are best played without an aim.
I plan to fuck you over. For no reason at all.
You delivering me cold pizza or jumping ahead of me in a queue.
Would be reason enough.