There are pauses in between musical notes and stops between an artist's strokes and periods in between a writer's sentences. We have come to an end. We have come to a stop. But sometimes the only way to continue is to halt. The only way to begin is to end.

- apbq, pauses and stops

You used to adore me
Then I finally let you in
And now all you see
Are my flaws and insecurities

Is it all in my head
Or did you prove myself right
Is it because of what I said
Or what I did that night

I was so stupid
I was so foolish
I knew I shouldn’t have done it
But couldn’t help and be selfish

All I wanted was to express
And now I’m depressed
Because of the excess
Actions I could’ve accessed

I can be obsessive
But please see my intentions
I was trying to be impressive
But all it caused was tension

This is my flaw, I know
I just wanted to show
All the love that you deserve
But it’s that I couldn’t preserve

.
Someone is waiting behind an unlocked door,
peek around the frame and tell me what you saw.
I am a little bit too scared to take a look,
like turning a page in an old horror book.

You see it may be someone who likes me
and that is dangerous for stability.
The hands are motionless on a timeless clock,
it would be easier if they would just knock.

In theory there is nothing I want more
than someone waiting behind an unlocked door.
I've rehearsed this scene so many times before,
but here and now there is a storm at my core.

It ties up the insides like thick knotted hair,
the thought, the fear, that there is nobody there.
So the man in the corner whom most ignore
has someone waiting behind an unlocked door.

But the uncertainty has its own high cost,
as the door locks shut and the moment is lost.

© Pagan Paul (14/02/21)

.
Poems are plush curtains,
of words,
pulled together
to hide the world
from the raw emotion
that flows
out of a writer
casting pearls.


© Pagan Paul (14/02/21)

I was walking here tonight and saw a billboard with an advertisement for a communications company with the strap line:
'Connects 100 devices in your home'.
'Connects 100 devices in your home'.
I'm sorry but if you have 100 devices in your home you deserve to get hacked.
'Connects 100 devices ...' and what are these devices?
This is my fridge freezer, its connected to the wi-fi, it Tweets me whenever I have the unmitigated audacity to have the door open for more than 3 seconds.
This is my washing machine, its connected to the wi-fi, it emails me when its cycle is complete, even if I'm stood next to it doing the washing-up.
This is my carriage clock, its connected to the wi-fi, it Tic-Tocs me when it stops.
This is my games console, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my television, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my stereo system, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my central heating, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my dog. Its collar is connected to the wi-fi.
What next? This is my *** toy, its connected to the wi-fi, it gives me pretty graphs on Facebook.

(To audience: From that reaction I'll conclude that that last bit is already out of date. You naughty naughty people!)

Pagan Paul (April 2022)

I was sitting in the waiting room at my GP surgery and noted that there was a distinct lack of reading material provided. Just a couple of leaflets about ****** and a few old Mills & Boon paperbacks.

Mills & Boon, a very strange corner of fiction indeed. A strange corner in which the sight of a ladies bare ankle can cause a dashingly handsome cavalry officer to positively swoon with desire. A strange corner where the mere use of the word 'hosepipe' can cause a nun to blush. A strange corner in which the heaving ***** of an 80 year old great aunt causes palpitations and sweat gland problems for her even older gardener.

Mills & Boon is a very strange corner of fiction indeed. A strange corner that makes Austen and the Bronte sisters  look like purveyors of ****** ****.

I reach for the leaflets, and wait.