finding your rock
scratching the surface
attempting to make contact
inside is life
life is inside
breaking even
evenly breaking
assessing
assessing
recalibrating
attempting to find
essence of interest
interest found
inside
life is inside
inside
inside is life

Should probably be revising
or spending time with her
bettering myself or something
along those lines
and maybe just rehearse
the same old story
albeit a little bit boring
the truth
feeling a shy sense of lonely
I should better my bank account
do some overtime
and sometimes
I think I should be closing blinds
crawling back in to my mind space
laying in bed thinking;
why am I such a **** waste
a lack of feeling
a lack of fun
a lack of taste
forever feeling misplaced
forever missing the old days
forever failing to take shape
it's like life is picking up the pace
and I'm forever stuck in the same place
searching for the will to live
but there's none spare
a lack of preparation always
leads to being unprepared
but I never learn my lesson
always finding another distraction
my attention span just a fraction
of what it used to be
and if I ever had faith I'm losing it
as far as I can see
and yes it's that same old story
I should probably be bettering myself
but I just keep writing sorry poetry

Confessions, confessions
everybody wants to learn the lesson
but nobody ever wants to pay attention
real world problems and such? Nah
they're just analysing the regressions a touch
don't think on it too much
or your head might just feel a little bit

So, attention! attention!
before I forget my digression
I've been meaning to lay waste to
the lies and oppression but
as this world that we live in
rather than fate would have it
I'm just another voice amongst screams
inaudible, lost, the sound of mania and fiends
or just not worth a listen it seems

Sugar, **** and cream
outdated music reverbed and rewritten
old films on new screens have me smitten
just keep feeding me that good stuff
I don't do politics; I'm living the dream
I thought I was in 2016, but now this,
this is cartwheels and  back-flips

In a favourite song of mine a lyric goes
"wise men wonder, while strong men die"
with age came the realisation that was a lie
wise men don't wonder they already know why
it's the strong men that tell boys not to cry
then wonder about the epidemic of male suicide
which is the leading cause of death for men under 35









Just keep feeding me that good stuff

"A working man
that's what you are
a young, dependable
not entirely punctual
working man
and you can do anything
with your working hands
fix a tap, wire a circuit,
build a garden wall
or fell a tree
you can do
whatever you put your hands to
you can be whatever you want to be"

Something breaks

"with working hands
I'll try to fix it but
it takes time to learn
it takes time
to be good at something
for me
everything takes time
I'm not bad they say
just learning
in my frustration I wonder
what if I'm at full capacity
when there's more to come?
what if I'm just incapable?
destined to be an idle man
with rough, callused
soon to be soft
and useless
working hands"*

                    . . .

Well I want tomorrow today
so what good are these
working hands anyway?
I work and work and work away
pay my bills
I'm always late with rent
yes, work is overrated and
my pay doesn't make a dent
can't replace all the time I've spent
working with my hands

Isn't it funny
trading something so precious
for something as trivial as money
my brain works over time
day and night
when I get to work
it's like turning out a light
I think less and do more
it's kind of nice
so I think I'll sit tight
and stay on the tools
reject the office jobs

I can have it all
white finger
back problems
an RSI
bad knees
asbestosis
and arc eye
I can get all of them
so long as I try
work really hard and graft away
working man and all that!
who wants tomorrow today
when you can wear a hard hat?

So long as I breathe
and dream of you
and wake to think
of being with you
so long as I cry for us
and don't feel right
without you near
or when you don't call
or say I love you back
so long as every love song
reminds me of you
and I can't find a melody
or a perfect tune
to describe the feelings
you make me feel

Never would I ever
have imagined the weather
could affect the motion
in our ocean
after all
we set out
on our own expedition
to undisclosed locations
discovered uncharted emotions
sourced somewhere
between head and heart
we provided the water
used our own salt
and refused to part
we created something
something heavy
something light
adventurers at sea
turned gods of love
we'd make wild birds sing
who'd of thought
we'd be at the mercy
of natural things