it's cold and lonely as I look outside at the rain falling down from the sky; darker than the eyes reflecting at the middle of the cracked window.

it's so lonely, I am so lonely, the voices keep repeating inside my head, over and over again, as if a forgotten jingle has taken a life of its own.

I don't feel lonely now, I feel afraid; when will the voices stop calling my name ?

when will I be just nothing ?

silence speaks louder than any broken heart screaming; for whatever it's worth, I've always found chaos to be very comforting. it soothes my scars and gives my mind something to think about, something other than this cold lonely hour I cannot tick off the clock.

I wonder where people are right now, so many people doing so many different things in so many different places around the world, it's breath taking and so mundane at the same time, to think about how fragile my own existence is, and how much I crave what doesn't exists at all.

how do you explain what you feel when you feel everything and nothing ?

how do you survive in a perfectly boring equilibrium whilst being ripped apart by the extremes waging war inside of you ?

how do you explain to them how much you want to talk about absolutely nothing ?


the light is flickering inside the room and it's making me drowsy, I don't know if I'm on anything or not right now, for lately it has been so hard for me to tell reality from hallucination, wisdom from fiction, and monsters from me.

I feel as if I'm always floating just inches away from drowning, but miles away from dying, thinking about life and death, and all the felonies they bring with themselves.

maybe life, and death are just people, people like me and maybe people like you, maybe there's a man in the sky and a woman out there to fall in love with me, a love that's pure, to make a religion that's holy and divine, and as magical as any fairytale there ever was.

the clock is finally ticking, and I can feel it moving in the wrong direction, I want to speak and tell it how wrong it is, I want to scream and let it know that I know better but I am paralysed, from eyes and up, and I don't know if I can move my arms or wipe away the tears, I'm too afraid to even try.

maybe the man on the other side of the window can help me, he looks familiar but I've forgotten his name, there's somebody in his eyes, and I think I remember that face too, but he looks much older than what I think he used to be, or maybe I'm just younger.


I don't know why there's a crack just around his lips, what caused it, and the story, the history and poetry behind it; maybe it's there to make him look like an old man with a crooked smile, or perhaps, it just is, without a reason.

reasons scare me, everybody has a reason, or so they think, or so they pretend.

monsters, and ****** and gods and men, strangers, lovers, enemies and friends.

I don't have a reason tonight, or that's what I think.

the clock has stopped ticking, the rain has stopped falling, maybe the sky will be cleared, or not; it never mattered to me anyhow.

I feel as if there's a moment just around the corner, I'm going to pass by and make my home inside of, maybe because I've shed enough hurt, or maybe there's not enough to keep me going, but perhaps it's because every once in a while the glass is half full, rather than being broken and sharp.






it's a tuesday, and it's 3 am, and I don't know if there's going to be any sun tomorrow.

the only thing I'm sure of, is that, I'm not the man on the other side of anything, I'm on this side, here, and now;

and that's all there is to it.

you suffer,
and so, you learn-
talk about stars and lovers,
through scars, and
how they don't burn anymore

dreaming eyes,
dream about the dreadful lies;

the man in the sky,
isn't here sitting besides you-

the woman you pry;
maybe she's slick and sly,
it makes you sick,
and you wonder why ?

maybe it isn't about
love anymore.


the world has summer,
and it had your winter-

autumn withers'
spring too;

and the man in the sky,
he isn't sitting there anymore

the child you could see
in the mirror, died;

he's no more, maybe-
only as much as you are today;

and the bird you
could've freed;

you placed silence by
its side, and a song
on it's beak, so bleak-

bleached by the solemn
good-bye, and a seed,

praying, it becomes a tree,
and not a storm.

standing on a piece of heaven, I crawl-
watching the birds fly to the west, it's so cold,
so many insects in my head, I'm filled with all these walls,
and they remind me how small I am, and so cold.

breathing the winter air, it's everywhere, and now in my lungs,

the snow falls, and the lights go dim, there's so much white, it covers the dark,

I cannot even run, they'll know where I have gone and died,
I cannot see the sun, somewhere on the far side of the mountain it hides-
looking over everything,

I remember a blue lake
beneath a blue sky,

I remember you when I'm awake,
you're always there in my eye,

always here, always to stay,
as the world goes grey, when the sun dies,

and I sit there, on a wooden chair,

caught in the memories by the moments, whispering feelings into a box,
locked on all sides but inside of me,
where it rots, where it stays, where I watch it all, play back and forth,

until it's so cold, it begins to paint the world white,
until i can no longer hold it all together,
until the weather becomes as calm as the moonlight after the storms,
I feel you in my arms, I feel you in my today, I feel you in my tomorrow,

and I swallow the lakes, the mountains, the snow and the stars,
and I follow you into the darkness, at the end of the world, with my never healing broken heart,

and I swallow the white, and I swallow every last drop of snow,
every last sip full of an empty void, and a voice that keeps howling at me,

from the inside, from the lakes, blue skies, the mountains and the scars,

where we'll live forever, until the snow falls,

where we'll love forever, until the spring calls,

I look up, and the snow falls,
I look down, but the snow falls.

It has been seven years since Paddy posted his last poem. I am taking the previlege to bring it back up top. Please read his poems.

Paddy Martin Jan 2011
An Australian Summer Sonnet.
I pray thee sun thou should set,
or take thy leave better yet,
wouldst at last my thirst be gone,
But alas thee linger, and linger on.

There be no flower not yet dead,
no water flows in yonder river bed.
'Tis a heat where nought doth grow,
nor doth thee ever mercy show.

Dry of skin and parch of throat,
a man doth need no overcoat.
Thy rays doth burn mine eyes,
they do not hear mine mercy cries.

If there be a place where chill be found,
'Tis there it be that I be bound,
A place where there be no burning sun,
show it to me, so to it I shall run.

(c) 26th January 2010
with apoligies to all you Shakespeare freaks
I was thinking how Will would have handled our Oz summer heat.

ten heads and two eyes,
with a thousand in my mind;
reminding me
of the world i smoke

the tears i choke on
and the fears i hold onto
as the cold sets in

i beg my sin,
to set me free

free from this pain,

i close my eyes,
somebody counts to three

and just like that,
i've lost my heart again
to the storms and the sea

sharks and sparks
and a fire that remains

burning for an eternity
but not for us,

us, they don't love
us, they despise

for we don't belong
in their homes,
hung on their walls

because they cannot
tell, what is hell,
what's worth of heaven;
when they see us-
us, so tiny and small

so fragile and brittle
with our vile words, this world
and what's our, and little-

pretending to be sane,
as we look in the mirror

so, i say
why suffer ?

and i say,
why keep the monster's
and the demon's in ?

they don't care about us,
or what we keep from them
inside us, burning us,
poisoning us deep within,

so, i say
why suffer ?

let them pay,
let them wither

let the devil sing


storms and monsters in the air,
rivers running dry for our creed,

greed and men and women shine,
with bright lights they bought for free

smoke finds its way around
back to the lungs those spark the fire
and melt into the sea

drowning in your arms
before there's nothing left to see

before the world is left to die
in your beautiful eyes

and we all perish
on the count of three

so, let the devil sing
let the evil in your heart sin

so, let the mirror grin
back to reflections in the void,
back to black where it came from
a blacker noise,

through the storms and the nights
hollow calm and your arms

holding onto my deceased life,
my december ruins and spring

so, why don't you let the devil sing
and make him take away all our pain ?

why don't you burn this world down
and make something better once again ?

let the devil sing,
with all the evil in your heart
and don't be scared;

for when you open your eyes
there's nothing there.

no love, no air,
only the ruins.

broken moon and stars,
dead things and your broken heart,

beating, repeating,
with colours and sin;

so, let the devil sin,
let him win, once-

and see the sea burn.

what have you got ?
oh, my withered man,
set in rot, lingering in dust
as bleak as you can,

don't you understand,
this life is a lie

water becomes sand
and the name dies

you won't ever be beautiful
again, and you know

you'll never fly,
you'll never try

because you made you cry
and now the rain
has to find it's way to an ocean

nothing was ever yours,
all you have is your heart
and it's so broken

between sparks, sharks and
shards, there's no hope

there's just this smoke
and a door that never opens

no matter how much
you scream

no matter how much
you dream

it'll never be true,
nobody is listening to you
nobody waits for you
you're all alone,

this world will fade for you
with a sky so blue, you'll forget
you ever had a home

and when the sun sets
there's not going to be
another dawn

they're all gone,
far away from here
when you were sleeping,
keeping cold

and now the child looks at
you, as he did weeping-
so many moons ago,

pleading into the mirror
for a better tomorrow

and you tell yourself
he was but a child
how could he ever know ?

who we become,
when the day comes
to an end

how then,
every morning that you mourn
will fade in time
fading with your mind,

how when,
just as the moment disappears
into another void
the world goes blind

this world,
full of people and pain

there are so many of them
full of our hollow noise
and silence to claim,

spilling words, worth and
grey feelings and a bright shine

they don't tell you
how every tear has a voice,
and how important it is
for you to stay kind,

to be away and sane
to find a way and bind
yourself into a prison,

made of blank pages,
you could never write

so many reasons,
and all it takes is one
autumn, one winter

one season,
to find nothing rhymes
to your heart beat,

but it's important
you know you're always dying;
and there's no grand plan,

and you won't keep
flying forever;
breathing forever,
oh, my withering man

there's no time.

you left me so broken
and i kept counting my days

you left me so open
and i mourned for you to stay

you kept me for an ocean
and i drowned down and away

and it feels as if i have
just awoken,
it's such a sad day,
and i have nothing to say

so, here's my song
with my tears golden

you told me how precious
i was, until you found a place
to replace my face,

and now i feel so rotten,
so, small and forgotten

it's a vicious tale,
and the words don't fade,

your luscious hair and
brown eyes,

made me believe your
every lie,

this delicious air,
and the crowned skies

make me wither,
and it tastes bitter
more than i,


and i thought,
more than i,

is you, but it was a lie;
you were never my home,

and i can't deny,
what nobody tells you,

about the blues,
heart and the stone

it's not the love, nor hate
but the anger that fills you
once they're gone.