Out
Of
My
Reach
You
Fell.

A
Prize
Lost
In
The
Machine.

I
Can
Ne­ver
Claim
You
Now,

Only
Wonder
What
Could
Have
Been.

I was a tiny bird afraid to fly
You were the kindest, warmest breeze
Carrying me into the sky
With remarkable ease.
You took me to heights I never knew
Showed me sights I had never seen
You told me my hopes and aspirations
need not be locked in gilded cages
and I should set them free.

The truth is;
I spent my life locked in a cage
of my own making
It was you who set me free.

Unable to stretch my wings
I heard the birds outside my cage
Singing about how it's a wonderful world
And I squawked with impotent rage.

It was you
who broke open my cage
and took me into your gentle hands.
It was you
who made me believe
I could fly if I just took the chance.
It was you
who showed me the love
I had never learned to show myself.
It was you
who gave me the greatest of gifts;
the opportunity to love you in return.

Now the sky is black and the night is cold
And the distance unfathomably wide
But I realise that I will never fly alone
You are always by my side.

So let us take flight again.

In the morning it will be better
that's what I tell myself.
Who am I trying to convince?
Each night after it gets dark,
I wish my lips were close to hers
instead of whispering into the chilling wind.
The words are immediately lost
just like she is to me
and I might as well be talking
to the half-moon and barren trees.
I was foolish to hope they would take wing
like a flock of doves or filthy pigeons
and find their way to her ears.
I whisper "I love you"
and the empty trees sway in response
their branches trying to brush away my tears.
In the morning it will be better
that's what I tell myself
but I know it's a lie.

If I had a chance again, I’d tell you
how much I adore your eyes.
I’d tell you how, in this dark dark world,
you are the brightest light.
I’d tell you that, although I’m overweight,
you make me feel like I could fly.
I’d tell you that I was the happiest I’d ever been
when I could call you mine.

If I had a chance again, I’d hold on tighter
to both your loving hands.
I’d lie with you and listen
to all your favourite bands.
But instead I am feeling blue
And listening to a tune that reminds me of you
The one that said I saw the crescent
But you saw the whole of the moon.

My guitar clattered to the floor
the moment you said
you don't feel the same anymore.
My fingers forgot how to make the shapes
that make the sounds
but my hands still remember how yours felt
when you were still around.
I no longer play guitar
because I do not know where to start
and there is no song that I can play
as beautiful as the song of our hearts
beating together.
It became my favourite tune
A soundtrack for the sun rise
bidding the flowers bloom.
Now my only song
is it's lonely echo
and my guitar is ashes.

It is 9:59PM
The drumming in the darkness
is only the rain,
there are no stars in the sky tonight;
just nosediving planes
in a hurry to meet their fate.

It is 10:04PM
The aching behind my eyes
comes from squinting at a screen;
This heart full of holes
comes from daring to dream
when dreams are out of reach.

It is 10:24PM;
Twenty-five minutes ago
The existential crisis engine roared into life
And I danced to its industrial tune.
The streetlamps all flickered
As if flirting with the half-moon.

It is 10:33PM;
And I drag myself outside
to feel the rain on my face
but the rain has stopped
and so has the aching behind my eyes
And my heart is whole.

And all is silent.

I may not always understand
the why’s of your behaviours
And the reasons for your thoughts.
I may not be able to see or feel
the burden that threatens to break you
while you smile and laugh at my bad jokes.
I may never find the magic words
that will erase your pain forever,
but I will keep writing until I do.
Because there is a song that reminds me of you;
that one were David Byrne sings
“you’ve got a face with a view”.
I may never fully understand
The condition casting black clouds on your days
But remember, the skies will always get clearer
And I will love you always.

I have never had a Valentine, my dear
But if I could have one, I would choose you
2020 was the strangest of years
But it was my favourite, because I met you.

Do you remember our first meeting?
You squeezed too much sanitizer on my hands
Then rubbed them with yours ever so sweetly
My heart didn’t stand a chance.

That June night, I ascended thirteen storeys
And discovered my new favourite view;
Your face that I can’t help adoring
And your eyes of oasis blue.

We spend evenings on your couch watching The Chase
Seeing how many questions we can answer
Followed by Inbetweeners or First Dates
Punctuated by the sound of our laughter.

These are my favourite kind of nights
But then again, any time of day feels special with you
And I’m so happy that you’re mine
And I hope that makes you happy too.

You concoct delicious dishes in your kitchen
Pastas, curries and casseroles
And I don’t believe you that you’re winging it
Because I always empty my bowl.

We share a love of music,
reading and laughing at memes
But my love for these is nothing
Compared to how you make me feel.

Will you be my Valentine every day
If I finally finish this poem?
I just need one more line to say
You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.

I miss you greeting me at your door
With the hug I’ve longed for
I miss you resting your head against my chest
Checking my aftershave, does it pass your sniff test?

I miss you concocting something delicious
While I sneak in to distract you in the kitchen
I miss your chilli you saved with tinned tomatoes
And your pasta with excessive pesto.

I miss you rolling your eyes at my bad jokes
Or me pretending that I’ve stole your nose
And you saying “don’t be a freak all your life"
Well, for you I promise to try.

I may be in isolation
And yes, I’m missing you
I may be in isolation
But my heart is always with you.

What makes a person?
A pile of imperfections
knitted together
with limited skill?

What makes a person?
Flesh and bone and muscle
and something more;
a soul?

What makes a person?
A sense of humour
The sound of laughter
A voice?

Who knows what makes a person?
But all our imperfections
Combine to make us unique
And precious.

The tongue that stumbles over certain words
The mind that's always full of doubt
The eyes that aren't quite aligned
The crooked smile at inappropriate times
Trusting too little or too much
The bruised heart that still loves

What makes a person?
Your flaws make you uniquely human
and uniquely you.
Embrace them.

I never intended to fall
Love is an accident I became prone to
On the night I met you.
Vividly I remember our first meeting
Eyes of blue making oceans green with envy
Looking into them gives a glimpse of  heaven
Your smile has taken me there already.
Now see what enriches my existence;
Delicious and exquisite kisses
And your voice in my ears!

I don't know how to turn off
the part of me that panics
but you do.
Oh yes, you really do.
You have the mute button
for my anxious mind
you calm the static storm
with the sound of your voice.
You readjust the picture
whenever it breaks up
or looks too dark
you help me see clearly
through the interference
not everything is coherent
but you give it a meaning
unique to you and I.

Dear Mr Undertaker
you might not remember my name
despite what the stone says
you might have coaxed the ghost of a smile
from my pale and dead face
but unfortunately i wish to complain:
this mahogany casket
is filled with maggots
I cannot escape from.
There isn't enough space
to move my limbs
and my whole body is stiff.
My neighbour is crazy
and keeps calling the names
of her fifty cats.
It stinks in here
the food is awful
and the phone reception is lousy.
Is it too late to get an exchange?
I would like a cremation
the receipt is in my pocket.

Sometimes
part of you
has to
die
for you to
continue
living.

Sometimes
what
used to be
the best
part of you
turns to
cancer.

Sometimes
the cancer spreads
to your mind
to your heart
to your soul
this is called
DEPRESSION.

Sometimes
half of you
wants to die
and half of you
feels numb
and all of you
feels like hell.

Sometimes
your eyes become
prison windows
and you see
no one there
but remember
i'm still here.

Sometimes
words are enough
to **** the cancer
but when they’re not
it’s okay to cry
it’s okay to scream
just let it out.

Remember
after the darkest nights
the sun still rises
after the most destructive storms
calm and tranquillity still comes
and you will
still be standing.

When you're gone
the daffodil laments
linger

do you know
I'm still remembering
waltzing back

dreaming my dreams
pretty eyes
never grow old

this is the day
roses
raining in my heart.

in the end
will you remember
what you were

You were gasoline
Waiting for one lucky match
Shame I was a dud

these hands shave countless faces
these hearts unconditionally care
these eyes cry tears for strangers
these brave souls are still there
through these frightening times.

they cannot stay at home
they are the essential pillars of society
underequipped and undervalued
and they're on the frontline
fighting an awful virus.

they are begging for facemasks
they are begging for gowns
why should they beg for the protection
necessary to stop the spread of infection?
they are being let down

they are the ones who stand at bedsides
the nurses monitoring vital signs
the carers providing essential care
all of them safeguarding lives
while their own are being put at risk

so while you applaud
remember to never again say the words
"just a carer" or "just a nurse"
because blessed are the keyworkers
who risk their lives to help others.

J.Walker April 2020

If we must
limit
our interactions
to online
I may still
appear
to be
speaking
to you
but this voice
is not mine.

This face shows
no traces
of my anxieties
and fears
because
my real self
has been
filtered
away
and
replaced
with
dog ears.

We used to
FEAR
The viruses
lurking
online
rather than
the viruses
that exist
in real life.

Funny how
things
change.

The stupid things that people say
They drive you to insanity
They’re an unwelcome distraction
When you try to climb back out of the hole you’re in
But just can’t find the traction
The stupid things that people say
They bring no consolation, only dismay
They can’t rearrange the disarray
Or put the pieces back into place
They’re only stupid things that people say.

The scariest things are the things we cannot see
The scariest things lie in wait, we hardly dare to breathe
The scariest things are out there causing death and disease
The scariest things are inside of us, so we self-quarantine

The scariest thing is never knowing when this will pass
But I guarantee you that hard times never last
And the greatest things are also things we cannot see
Love and hope, and the spirit of community!

I overheard some loudmouth proclaim
that you are nothing but trash
If that’s true then you could say
that I must be the refuse collector
because I looked at you
and saw something to treasure.

Waiting for sleep like expecting a train
at an abandoned station,
I wait for it to take me away
to carry me to a better place.

My heart races against the drumming rain
but the rain, it always wins
My eyes are vacant while my head gets heavy
filling up with rain.

Waiting for sleep like waiting
for the solitary mournful whistle
of a distant ship
to become music.

My mind a ****-choked patch of waste ground
that could have been a beautiful garden
but I am no horticulturist
I am only waiting for sleep.

J.Walker February 2020

Words that shouldn't be said
hang in the air
like some noxious gas
that asphyxiates
everybody

Words that are whispered
soothe like a warm bath
restore and regenerate the spirit
rebuild the roads and bridges
words destroyed

Words have the power
to scorch flesh like acid
to disfigure all beauty
or cure any affliction
why not use words for good?

What will I do for Valentine’s Day?

Give myself a bunch of high-fives
For being single every Valentine’s Day of my life
Drive myself down to the beach
Or stay at home knowing I’ve only myself to please
Make myself breakfast in bed
Or maybe go back to sleep instead
Walk where the wind takes me, or sing in the rain
Drink too much coffee and give myself a migraine

Why don’t I drink, you ask
What do I do for fun
reading books by dead writers
listening to bands you’ve never heard of
that’s what i do
not for fun
but as an alternative
to socialising
because i
don’t
like
people
and their
stupid
social
rituals
that revolve
around
drinking.

We have an unspoken agreement;
I write poems and you give me
self-doubt and indecision
I take you a walk to my favourite quiet place
And you talk the whole time
Because that’s just what you do.

We have a secret pact;
when I play my favourite songs
you say “what is this trash?”
When I play my guitar
You say “what is that noise?”
And tell me to stop.

We have a unique union;
You are I and I am you
But you still say I’m bound to fail
Whenever I try to better myself
Why don’t you shut up
And let me try?

For some stupid reason
I thought that
no one else
found you
attractive
then I realised
that
I was
insulting
myself.

For some stupid reason
that I cannot
remember
I kept a list
of
places
we’ve been.

Now I
cannot
make up
my mind;
do i
want to
disappear
or
do i
want to
be
seen?

Why the
indecision?
Let me check
my
directory
of stupid reasons
and my wardrobe of
excuses
worn too thin.

let's just call it
some
stupid
reason.

Love is not in the air
it is just a scrawny little bird
living in my ribcage
and it’s song cannot be heard.
Love does not reign over us
it just ties my tongue in bows
where once you gave me flowers
now only shadows grow.

You are not permitted
to have any real emotions
to have any real friends
to write any real words,
the tyrant brain decreed.

We will ***** a barbed wire fence
we will dig a trench ten feet deep
we will let black hounds run free
to keep the world outside
and to keep you in.

The tyrant brain says
if you don’t try you’ll never fail
if you don’t seek then nothing will elude you
if you don’t think then nothing will confuse you
so don’t try.

The tyrant brain is a ***** bomb
And I hold the detonator
do I push the button
or throw it away and cry
NO MORE?

If you ever lose your ability to smile
I will lend you mine, although it’s out of style
to care about how other people feel
Neither of us are like any other people,
you’re somehow more real
and you make me real too.

If you cannot face another day
please don’t fear the trials that come your way
look in the mirror and think of the bad things
that happened in your life
think of all the bad things
and say this – I SURVIVED

Procrastination will be the ruin of me
if this cocktail of caffeine, nicotine and time
doesn’t **** me first.

Procrastination is my most toxic trait
apart from a tendency to joke
about things I shouldn’t.

Procrastination is my favourite pastime
How else could I live for 29 years
with nothing to show for it?

Procrastination is comfortable
like a set of pyjamas
but sometimes you’ve got to get dressed.

Procrastination is sitting still
watching the world spin without you
and saying you’ll catch up later.

But later is never now.

You talk too much for your own good
And smile too little for my liking
I would crack a joke to lighten the mood
But you seem to find humour frightening.
What’s it like living in such an awful world?
You say paradise is laced with landmines
Hidden meanings are waiting to unfurl
But sometimes a rhyme is just a rhyme.

Thank you for wearing your heart
like a cosy red sweater
your grandma knitted for you.
It makes me feel a little bit warmer
and a little bit fond of you
though I’m naturally melancholy.

I live in a strange age;
falling into depression
is easier than falling in love.

My face is far from photogenic,
but you would never guess
that I am fatter in real life.

I examine myself through a filter
that makes everyone look beautiful
but I have never felt uglier.

All of my friends are a click away
and I speak to them all at once
yet see none of them.

I can buy anything I desire
with money that doesn’t exist
but how do I make myself exist?

I have no memories of my grandmother
No photographs to cherish
We shared a birthday
But cancer stole her from this world
Before I could meet her.
I will never hear her voice
I will never hear her laughter
I will never know her sense of humour
I will never see her smile
Or her eyes sparkle
But I know that I would have loved her
And she would have loved me.
I have never visited Granny’s house
On a miserable rainy Saturday
Never been greeted with fresh baking,
Or a dinner she’d been cooking
And I sometimes feel sad
But I once heard someone ask
Why the best people always die too soon
The reply was that we are all beautiful flowers
And only the most special ones get picked first
It sounds like a stupid platitude
Something people say to console themselves
But in my Granny’s case it must have been true
Because none of my birthdays have passed by
Without me wishing she was still here.

My life is an endless succession
Of people saying "I'm sick of your ****"
Then stepping off at the next stop
Like passengers before a trainwreck
And I call this train my life.

It's just part of life, I guess
People love you until they know you
And those who know you love you best
Pleasing everyone is the impossible puzzle
And I haven't even put myself together yet

My life is like the sequel to some awful movie
That nobody wants to see
But it's funny how it bombs at the box office
If you hear my name and smile in fondness
Then you haven't been paying attention.

Set my clothes ablaze
I do not need them anyway
I've founded Scotland's first nudist colony.

Scrap my car and pack in my job
and head for the nearest beauty spot,
I've founded Scotland's first nudist colony.

Be brave and join me in the hills
but be careful not to catch a chill,
I've founded Scotland's first nudist colony.

Feel the freedom on your skin,
if you wear clothes you won't fit in
at Scotland's first nudist colony.

We bathe in the sun and dance in the rain
When it snows we'll pray for clothes again
and shut down Scotland's first nudist colony.

I have been
made to feel like a piece of trash,
but I have also felt like a king.
why don’t you people
make up your minds?

I have heard
a host of angels sing the songs of leonard cohen
but i felt like i was in hell.
what kind of madness
is this?

My name has been spat out
like the worst insult in the world
but it is still mine
and cannot be taken
from me.

I have been
made to feel like a piece of trash
but any piece of trash can climb
to the top of the pile
and today it’s me.

In another lifetime
maybe I could glue my dreams to the sky
and they would never come unstuck.

On another night
I might not age three decades
while crushed under the weight of a migraine.

On another morning
I could snooze my alarm a thousand times
or maybe there would be no alarm?

In another place
the sun is kissing everybody’s face
but here the rain spits on mine.

Maybe in an hour
a moment of clarity will arrive,
but I will blink and miss it.

In the furthest away place
my beloved is buried
in the wedding gown she never wore
beneath a bleached white stone.

Her name cannot be recalled
by the morning rain
or the thousand-year-old tree
it is lost to all memory.

One night she unravelled the rivers
and tied her hair with them like ribbons
She stole a seashell and held it to my ear
so I could hear the roaring ocean
and she said “nothing will ever part us;
not water, not distance, not even death”

and whenever I see a dove in flight
as elegant and graceful as she was
I smile and think to myself
That maybe the most beautiful souls become doves.

You say I'm too quiet, well that's my shrewdest ruse
To tell you the truth I only talk to people's shoes
And sometimes the shoes talk back
In a language that sounds like silence
Maybe I should learn it?

Whoever said “slow and patient wins the game”
Has never played the games you play
I seek but never find you
I chase but never catch you
Maybe I should play with someone else?

You say I'm not like other boys;
I dance between raindrops
and shelter from the sun.
I would walk across thin ice for you
But conversation is worse than death.

oblivion, i will be
as the amber light seeps away
the winds no longer whistle
they bellow their death rattle
upon iron roofs.

absolution, you are absent
trees bend in aversion
colossal kamikaze waves crawl closer
then roll away again
as if startled.

resolution, you are wilted
a withered rose held aloft
a remnant of radiance
clung onto for too long
now woebegone.

salvation, seldom seen
saliva saturates your silken shroud
what solution do you offer
but silence?
send me beyond solitude.


INTO OBLIVION.

I want to reach out, but I live in an age
Were computers have surpassed our pathetic brains
I need someone to talk to, I’m alone and I’m angry
But technology replaced face-to-face conversation,
and I speak a dead language.

I want to see old friends, it sure has been a while!
When friendships were more than just numbers on a profile
I need familiar faces that smile full of warmth
But no one here knows me anymore
And everyone I knew has gone.

I want to tell a secret, but on second thought I better not
Because my fear of death is second only to being screenshot
I’m afraid to say out loud that I live in an age
Were pain and depression is caused by cowardice
And following the crowd is brave.

If I held your hand for a moment
Venice would not sink any quicker.
If I nibbled your lips
As if sampling a strange, sweet and succulent fruit
The stars will not drop from the sky
Extinguished like cigarettes flicked into the gutter.

If I told you how ancient civilisations
Would immortalise your beauty in bronze
And adorn their temples with your likeness
The clocks would not grind to a halt.
If I asked you about your favourite book
The library would not burn down.

If I packed you a picnic
And invited you to pick wildflowers
Winter would not arrive early
And freeze the meadows dead-white.
If I declared you the belle of the British Isles
Your derision would not wither your beauty.

If I was not afflicted
With an agonising shyness
Like the slow lingering extinction of myself
I could look you in the face
Without being blinded by your radiance
Or struck dumb.