Searching for Peace

Peace is an echo in my mind.

100 versions of myself displayed in resonance.

Not one good enough.

Not one bears pride.

Peace is a person in a dream in a memory in a fragment of an eye bathed in Ocean blue.

Peace is a sound of waves and waves and waves and waves – crashing soundlessly.

Peace is a pulse within a frame within a frame within a machine.

Peace is everywhere and yet, nowhere do I find it.

Peace is a woman within reach – out of reach; trapped in a cacophony of dissonance.

I am trapped there – deaf and blind tirelessly enduring; northward-bound.

Peace is a kindred spirit.

A flame turned blue.

A boulder worn to a pebble.

I am a string of existential crises that play as one within a single entity.

And peace left this entity long ago.

Soleless – feet bloodied.

I continue searching.

…I am still searching.

Fading

Though the weight of the world left you unfazed,
Weight held a burden you couldn’t bear.

Though your flesh left you willingly,
I guess your bones were too heavy to carry.

Heaviness upon heart and head
Stuck between the ever-crushing vice of life
Trapped behind the eyes of a body you felt…was never yours.

Both sides of the pendulum you are.
Innocence amid reality;
A sea breeze in winter;
The sun in the Sahara.

All taint of malice and
Purity of tenderness;
A punctured lip in moonlight.
You are the moral in every story.

I fear you never understood the depths of yourself,
Or perhaps you never held the layers poetry paints.

Every shattered piece of my soul sought to save you,
But your ‘love’ only ever bore me doubt.

Your weight may never again grace the earth,
But it will always weigh down on my mind.

Even in my mind…

…you are fading.

It’s Hard to Find the Words…Sometimes

Why do I struggle to speak my mind eloquently and concisely?

The thoughts in my mind are beautifully crafted and worded in such ways that they could charm the gold from a merchant’s pockets. Yet, upon expulsion from the lips the letters previously shaped into words seem to break apart like proteins into amino acids without any of the use or structure. The words fumble over like a calf learning to walk; like a drunk leaving the pub on a monday afternoon.

The corruption of capitalism in the depths of a private owned set of flats allows hard earned wages to be disintegrated seemingly on thin air as you watch your hard work’s labours pay off for nothing while someone devious, callous and malicious sweetly collects the ashes as tribute. When I treat the world as kindly as I try to…why does it treat us so unjustly?

The deceptive are rewarded while the honest are reprimanded.
The cold bathe in luxury while the warm-hearted are left out in the cold.
The businessman or businesswoman in their suits; their formal attire following their target-driven goals of money and wealth and social status freedom from their laborious roots and their grandfathers and grandmothers that had to bite a bullet to ensure food was on their tables.
The unkempt, cloth-draped homeless; ignored, denied and downtrodden, left in the depths of the winter’s coldest nights.
The average individual, couple or family that work minimum wage jobs to spend 80% of it to survive and 20% of it to live.

There are so many other problems in the world that deserve their injustices to be righted so, yet here I sit amid the dark of the night unable to even speak my mind simply.

A Better Life

The terrorists don’t live far away anymore
They live in Number 10 or another home they own
To break down the door of another family struggling
To pay their rent that they already spent
Just trying to feed their kids and give them
A better life.

A better life.

That better life don’t exist for the working class
That break their neck back and ass
For a measly payslip at the end of the month
Foreboding another 28 to 31 days of suffering; of struggling.

Right now I write this from a flat with 1 bedroom
A flat with 1 bedroom that costs £850 a month to stand, sit and sleep in.
A flat with 1 bedroom that costs £300 a month on bills to keep me warm and clean in.
A flat with 1 bedroom that doesn’t understand I get £1200 a month to live on.
Don’t even speak about luxury or situational positioning.
This flat don’t feel worth a penny for the stress for the position that it puts me in.

People fretting about a virus that has killed almost 3000 people today
Since its discovery yet the flu has killed over 70,000 seasonally.
Anyone wonder where swine flu went or Ebola jumped to?
Did you know Ebola had around a 50% mortality rate in certain regions?
Nah.
You’d rather worry and fear the Coronavirus while politicians and physicians
Blind us and profit by us
Living fat and fit off the money that we die for
While they laugh and sit in the houses that we cry for
Upping taxes with cutthroats that cut throats of people we don’t even sigh for;
No we don’t even sigh no more…

So desensitised by the media of this apathetic world today
That bombs countries for wealth
And starts wars for a hobby.

Old men and women sit formal in a lobby
And call it parliament to make it official
Then they tear down the world and call it beneficial.

Calling destructive, constructive
And obstructive, productive.
I’m tired of this oxymoronic bullshit…

This obtuse world that demands blood sweat and tears for money.
Standing as a wasted investment with my capital ever at risk and no returns.
A world that punishes the hard-working and struggling.
A world that rewards deception, callousness and selfishness.

This financial bullshit is pressurising my relationship…

Trading frets of unhappiness due to location location location,
This money-life is just breeding frustration, dictation and starvation,
Politicians and ignorant fucks preaching taxation, migration, ruination
When all I fucking wanna see is a little bit of salvation.

Some peace beneath the bloodshed;
Some care sowed into our eyes wide shut;
Some love, cut from the same cloth of our hate.

I’m just looking for that better life…

Ever worn a smile?

Ever worn a smile so long that you can’t take it off?
Like a straightjacket’s tight bindings.

Like you’re stuck with the sawn-off amid the murder scene
Police surrounding you and yet you can’t shed a tear
For fear the cement you rub into your flesh will crumble
Leaving you vulnerable and humble torn to shit
By fangs and claws of stuck-up bitches and pseudo-santa claus
Who only gifts you another Christmas alone by a phone that
Goes off maybe once or twice a day now that she’s gone and
You’re left to your own devices which entail either the numbing of
Your brain with a game or a selection of junk food or the choice
Of gym to pummel your body into submission until the mind is
Left ablur and you pray for that stroke to kick in or your heart
To stumble into atrial fibrillation so you can at least feel it beat
Again and that deep sinking feeling fade with the ache of bad decisions, Misplaced love and intimacy shared that enthrals your emotions as
It walks them off the cliffs of trust; of faith; of despair until you tear
Every last hair from your head and would rather it be you off that cliff
Left Dead and fed on by the vultures that seem to encircle your life so Consistently with their disapproval and their disbelief and their fucking Opinions that not Just rival your own but want to drop the hammer
On them like a judge on a Rapist’s law-case only to find the man was
Innocent 25 years down the line when His wife has moved on and died
And his children lost amid the streams of meth-dabblers, the people
Drowning in ethanol setting their insides ablaze and the mentally
Suffering let down by a system that was meant to protect them now
Seeks only to abandon them.

Those mentally unwell that require our unwavering attention yet now
We disregard them as a burden, a flaw among these sweet perfect
Examples of human beings that hold wealth as priority and material
As the goal when their fellow men and women are self-immolating away
Their fears and their burdens and their worries with
Cheap alternatives to reality when their own has thrown them to the
Bottom of the well and we aren’t even so kind as to fill it to soften
Their landing and to sate their thirst.

These people who need our help and we aren’t even so kind as to
Put out a hand to help them up and out of the hole that society
Has been digging for them.

So selfish and mechanical has the heart of the world become today
Where the sheer self-absorbency of the social media machine
Assimilates our collective into its number where a picture of a body
Is worth more than the emotion or experience of that person where the
World watches and only sees through vain eyes left bloodshot because
Rarely ever do you fucks ever blink when you see vanity personified yet
You look away when you see the suffering of another.

God I’m fucking sick of this existence.

But there is a hope dawning like that scene from the Lion King when the sun Touches the earth and everyone breaks into song and everyone
Can feel the love tonight.

But for now I have to just wear this smile that I can’t seem to remove
Out of fear everyone will see just how much I am suffering and cast
Their judging eyes upon me either in sympathy or in scorn or in jest
Until the world changes or until I see her face again and may finally
Rest my falsehood and either crumble and cry or simply
…die.

Alas, a memory now

(I)

It is hard to pertain,

Or to ascertain

How to detail or reveal

The way I feel.

To describe the glance;

The enthralling trance.

Each second passed;

The first, and the last.

This untameable creature

With every desirable feature

Under my hand; pure docility,

Then with great virility

She thrills me

Wills me

Almost kills me

With a lust I can trust

And then thus,

Like the alchemist,

By Paolo Coehlo’s hand crafted,

I am shipwrecked; rafted;

Lost in love,

At sea

For you see

My love for her

Knows no depths.

Sharks fins now stroking;

No drowning; no choking;

Only the softness of the waves

And with it she enslaves

My very soul unaware,

That she is the light; the flare

That lays with me at seabed

In my darkness; fire-fed.

My submerged sight restored,

Her love has cured

The ailment no doctor could heal;

No remedy tend; no wound conceal.

I have found myself;

I have found purpose…

.

.

.

(II)

But yet, ‘twas but a feeling;

Scratching surface,

Hardly peeling

Back the fibres

To the truth

Where I find

Each horse and hoof

Where they trample

Harsh and ample

Upon the home

My heart once sat.

Trodden into ground;

Without mercy;

Without sound.

Whether serene sea thrown

Or tempest bound;

Raft-less sailor now alone;

Whether whiskey or saltwater:

Drowned.

I gasp for the air

That filled my chest

Yet I find only fluid

To sate me.

To clasp to dreams

Of midsummer streams;

Yet, it is ocean jaws

That bait me.

Zero

I put my heart into a bucket of glass this year, but was surprised to see it was cut.

Now each morning over the dirty dishes, I wash up both with fairy liquid and Tears.

I’m not so sure about the combo for Cleanliness, but I’ve made enough Mistakes this year to care less.

Poetry will have to take a backseat for Now, as the driver is drunk on sorrow and rage.

Something that started as one became two; became three and is now left as one.

Some part of me prefers zero.

As a non-drinker; I am drunk. On a stuporous concoction of love and hate; what I thought would numb me has left me drowning.

Money amassing in my bank account holds no warmth at night nor reassurance in the day.

Just another number I cannot hold.

In the gym the person in the mirror only reflects something I hate and resent now. Muscle bound and ripped are egoic terms I attempt to blanket myself with; but I find no comfort there.

That same person reflected is both my friend and my foe. Ready to encase me in stony numbness or erode me with acid rain shaped in thoughts.

What I want to get across is that I’m struggling here.

I’m seeking something I cannot find.

Reaching for something I cannot touch.

God knows the extent of my atheism.

A Sweet Irish Ballad

I just wanted to be gentle,
But the world just keeps me rough.
I tell the world to go and fuck himself;
All he does is tell me, “Tough.”

I’m so tired of self-absorbed
Barbies; Ken dolls;
All the same.
Send them flying all together;
Then throw em off the fucking plane.

I’m tired of cheats;
Of liars;
Of cunts that still exist.
These fuckers want me set on fire,
Then they tell me to desist.

All these tanned motherfuckers,
Do you fuckers even burn?
My Irish skin hopes you go to hell,
Then you fucks will get your turn.

I try to catch my breath today,
But some fuck just lit their fag.
I take their cigarette away,
So that I don’t have to gag.

And as I walk away content,
I hear the dirty cunt scoff.
They’ve lit another fag, the cunt,
And now, I can’t help but cough.

So I say:
Fuck off.
Fuck off, you dirty cunt.
You lot are all the same.
You’re vain, you stink and have whores for mothers;
In my arse, you are the pain.

So fuck off;
Fuck off.
Why don’t you die?
Would it be such a shame?
If the world would let me be gentle,
There’d be one less cunt to maim.

The Illusion of choice

I have wrestled with my Libido
From my youth until today.
In a chokehold it beat me,
Every moment, every day.

To the point that I surrendered,
From the moment I set it free.
Angels cursed me to the oceans,
Between devil and deep blue sea.

Each decision I made through lust
Entwined with angelic voice;
Deceiving demons in my mind,
For it never was my choice.

The sweet infatuation;
Shaped in femininity and lace.
My love, my heart; divinity.
All vanished without a trace.

The euphoria I knew;
That I tasted in each lover’s breath.
Stricken now from my veins;
An addict barren of his Meth.

To feel now; a blessing;
For a bite injected my curse.
To abstain now or indulge;
I struggle to decide… which is worse?

Fair-Weather Friends

Fuck my brothers
That stab my back
Each chance they get.

Caesar had it easy;
Each cut they make
I don’t forget.

Preaching Jesus kindness,
Yet spit lies and sow deceit.
They cut my femoral artery
While they wash my fucking feet.

Again, bleeding insecurities;
Thinking someone else can save me.
Again, infected with impurities;
These fuckers just deprave me!

My smile like a shirt; a tie;
I wear it like a suit.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you;
Fuck you evermore, till I turn mute.

My voice is silent
My fists are loud
I know no other way.

We once were friends,
But now no more.

So stay the fuck away.