If I could love
the limping
ugly
afraid
part of me
That I drag through the mud
and thorns

If I could let
the transparent
clawing
screaming
silhouette speak
Instead of kicking it
into the basement

If I could put
my deepest human essence
onto paper
for everyone to see

Then.
Then, I could be free.

it scares me;
i am constantly terrified of how fast it comes and goes,
how slow it comes and goes,
how much power it holds.

i can think
of no better way to describe it but to call it sand
i try to focus on each grain, each second, and
it just slips right from my hand.

it makes me
want to do everything available to me,
want to do nothing but crumple and weep,
want to stop and go unseen.

i am scared.
i am so scared of what it will bring,
so scared, because time is the one thing
that i can never keep.

why must sadness always be my muse?
why can i only use words
to fill my own emptiness?
i want to write about the sunbeams that dance on my wall
about how my baby sister laughs
about the stars and my passions
i want to get so carried away in the love and beauty i know that i forget how to write and my words become nonsense and my sentences run on and on and on until they overflow
i want kindness and joy to emanate from my work
i want my cheeks to ache from smiling
instead of my eyes burning from tears
i want to change
i want to heal

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.

He died in a sleep, yesterday morning,
unnoticed, without a warning,
quiet, like people die.

Now he doesn't need their spare change,
he doesn't need their promises
to sort this problem out
before 2025.

He doesn't need you now, London,
like you never needed him,
he won't bother you anymore,
you won't hear him again saying Please.

He doesn't need you, Westminster,
death solved his problems, not you.

He passed away in his sleep,
he now lies in a warm bed, smiling,
and angels bring him hot food.

But, he wasn't the first and the last,
there's many more out there in the cold

and every death of a homeless
is a little death of our Free World.


The poem was written after learning about the death of a homeless man in the tunnel near Westminster tube station in London.

i am no poet.
my words are far too clumsy
my metaphors are feebly founded
my sentences go on and on
never reaching the point
i wish i had graceful words
and beautiful metaphors
and masterfully crafted sentences
that would work together
to frame my feelings in the perfect way
i wish that i could articulate the emotions that wage wars in my mind
i wish i could do them justice.
and i try
but this is all there is
and i'm sorry.

Many strange things in my time I have seen
What I see now may seem extreme
I sit in the garden by a small bungalow
They both stand together, a cat and a crow.
What I see is an unbelievable sight
The cat walks away, the crow takes flight
I return again the very next day
Together they stand in the very same way.
The cat is at peace and so is the crow
They are both too old, and very slow
The crow it stays in the same oak tree
And the cat can no longer run easily.
So within this garden they both now reside
Weak and feeble, yet still alive.
Maybe they've lost the will to ****
Or simply they both have had their fill.
But there is a lesson that is clear to see
If they can live in peace, so can we.