Paul Phifer-Deratany

Paul Phifer-Deratany Apr 11

Trapped beyond
white walls—
Scatterbrained
from the same
Monday moment
that kept me up all night.
Down dark, grimy halls,
for all critics to see.
My rotten heart—
Hung high from
the cracked ceiling.
Too soon,
the string snaps—
Too soon,
I’ll fall behind
those white walls
by dawn.

Paul Phifer-Deratany Apr 11

Thursday, Therapy

An unlicensed
therapist and I,
sitting in a
white room,
chaotic yet calm.

He sits on the
blue cushioned
chair, silent.
Every word
out my mouth
runs like wild dogs,
lost beyond the woods.
His eyes, darted like
a hawk as I talk.
Digging too deep
into my crooked,
insane, ******-up heart…
Unsettling yet interesting.

A chaotic poet
and a therapist—
Both observers
in one room.
I asked him,
tested his
thought:

“Am I insane to you?”
“We just met…”

Paul Phifer-Deratany Apr 9

Fear of the Dark

When I was
a young child
I used to be afraid
of the wild dark...
I thought it was
because it became
too hard to see
what lurks beneath,
It scared me…
Then the more
I think about it,
the more I sink
into it—

Today I realized
it was right
before my eyes.
I was afraid of
falling in the black,
endless void,
alone—

But here we are,
no monsters,
no demons,
no Boogieman—
Just the bitter me.
I don’t even flinch—
or give a ****
anymore.

Paul Phifer-Deratany Apr 8

Monday morning

The moment I look
at my bathroom mirror,
I see bags under
my tired, bitter,
****** up eyes.
I look like a hag
and my heart
cracked into broken
pieces like glass—

Not only I couldn’t
sleep last night from
nightmares and
fears I’ve had.
I lost one friend—
Or two—
Or a few friends,
here and there…

I want this to end—
I just want my
friends back…

Paul Phifer-Deratany Apr 6

The One-Man Show

Step right up—
STEP RIGHT UP, READERS!
This show will
make your bright
and wild night, Child!

You there—
YES YOU!
Oh, don’t stop looking now,
READER!
You chose to read…
The curtain rises—
And so do a man’s
dead souvenir—
A man’s buried FEAR!

I will tell the tale—
The One-Man Show!
See the Jester with magic—
The one who never cried!
Once a show filled with
ghostly ghosted friends,
critics, audiences of any kind!
Then one cold dawn,
cheers fell to silence—
They’re all gone…

Distant distorted voices
crawled like MAGGOTS—
Gnawing on the old,
rotten, tired heart.
Lonely hell made its home.
Soon, beneath the stage-lit
moon, scars bloomed—
And covered him like art.
A sickness—
A DISEASE he grew…

Step right up—
STEP RIGHT UP!
To hear his final line—
“I’m sorry…”
To watch a poor man
hung under the
Hanging Tree—

“CRACK”…

Soon fall dead
like the curtains—
A Dead-Man’s show.

Paul Phifer-Deratany Mar 26

3:00 am

Late night panics,
right hand shaken,
covered in blood and scars.
****** therapy sessions,
sane pills I’ve taken,
my inner critics
in their tea party
laughed and said
I’m insane.
Yet I say
“we’re all ****** here…”
Lost friends,
killed souls
I’ve stayed with—
sadly ended…
Always a memory away—
Gotta keep my head up…

All letters,
diaries and poems
I’ve written—
Scattered into
riddles and enigmas.
Readers falling down
rabbit holes—
Or that’s just
me as a poet…

My ticker,
a mad rabbit,
It runs—
Keeps running—
Running into
a train...

Paul Phifer-Deratany Mar 25

Flaking

My mind’s been
flaking slowly,
like dry paint off
your pristine,
decorated walls.
Every cold night
the autumn moon breathes,
my heart falls apart,
like dying leaves from
The Hanging Tree.

Doctor, Doctor—
Will you help me?
All this time,
I’ve waited so
patiently,
I became one
of your unsteady
patients.