I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.

We're afraid to live.
We're afraid to die.
We're afraid to try.
We're afraid of what happens if we don't try.
We're afraid to love.
We're afraid to commit.
We're afraid people think we're full of ****.
We're afraid of the truth.
We're afraid to lie.
We're afraid people will think we're weak if they see us cry.
We're afraid to feel.
We're afraid of fear.
But knowledge is power.
So now that you know what you fear,
what are you going to do about it right now? Right here?

Mrs. Dolores sat on the armchair in her balcony,
A cigarette burning in the ashtray,
A tattered Jane Austen on her lap,
Her pretty face made up,
Mascara smeared,
The bright red lipstick intact,
The same smug look,
With a tinge of sadness in her eyes.

Her beauty had faded away,
Not long after her innocence did,
But she loved herself for what she had done,
For whatever she had become.
And hated herself for killing what she could've been.

Mrs Dolores sat on the armchair in her balcony,
Blood dripping down her wrist,
The same proud look,
With a mist of betrayal in her eyes.

CALLING YOUR NAME

How, strange...you were
and now...you're not.

How, unbelievable I had
a brother...and now I've not.

The world turned and somehow
you got off.

Death, that
great Exit door.

I have seen you dead
and still - believe it not.

I follow in the footsteps
of your dying

speak your name
making you

come alive again
if only in sound

living upon my lips.

You forever my brother
despite what...Death says.

Come...live in my mind.
It's yours!

See with my eyes!
I'll share with you

what you can never
see.

Be me!
Every now and then.

I've go life
enough for two.


Carry you through
all the world.

Carry you through
all the days that remain.

The price of this
great love.

This ...
great pain.

Did it hurt you
when I died?
It hurt me more mate
because I had to lie.
I told you straight
"I'm okay"
then I went away
and I couldn't stay,
I couldn't even try
o brother mine.