i want to feel again
i want to be able to write again
i want to put my feelings into words
but whenever I write, there's nothing
and i'm reminded that i don't feel anything anymore

there are some things i can’t write poetry about

the nights when i stare into my reflection
and don’t recognize the face i see

the times when i feel like i’m moving at a different pace than the world around me

the moments when i’m surrounded by people but i feel so alone

when my heart beats out of it’s cage and i think i might die any minute

when i feel so hopeless that i can’t help but throw my head against the nearest surface

when i sit down in the shower and let the water caress me in ways no other person ever has

i realized that i will die before my younger sister
how do i write a ******* poem about that

it’s my birthday in about a week and i didn’t think i’d make it this long
i don’t know if i’m happy or sad about it

so some things can’t be written beautifully
or i haven’t processed them enough to string them into stanzas yet
who knows

i wanna get mad
and curse you so bad
you vanished all of a sudden
now my heart's all harden

i wanna get angry
but if I hear atleast just one sorry
it's more than enough
for my heart isn't that tough

i wanna be ******
for all these feelings i have risked
however, when it comes to you
i don't even know what's true

i wanna be happy
but without you it's all just lonely
so come to me,
for when its you, i'll always be ready

Soldier Boys 1
I went out to Manny to meet a black gal but she never showed. Go to the pub and get ******, I’m good at it! Then back to town my crap Oldham to another pub to have ale and curry. What’s this? Eight lads surround me at the bar get ready! But no fight, fun!

They try to wind me up do I like men? Yea I like you I tell the big one, all muscle.

I show my WOW tat on my **** and what fun! Party time, we drink as one and I have the big lad’s wine down half a bottle in one, then more beer. And I know I’m right, they’re army lads, how do I know? I just do lol.


In the Abbey its mad, big lad spies an old hippy with a recorder.
He borrows it and up big lad’s **** it goes, I almost cried with laughter!
We gave it all waggling devil fingers and partied on.

The army lads left and I set off home but I stopped and went to their pub the Hathershaw, we drank till late.
I had eight brothers that night.

I hope they’re all ok when they get called up to go to Afghan next year.
Two of their mates are already gone.
I’m just a writer I say.

did i get too close?
did i feel just like home?

Beautiful sadness.
I hear the wind whirl and howl outside.
I hope it rains.
I see cats.
They are playing in the house.
The pitter-patter of their feet amuses me.
I'm sitting in the living room.
I feel an old friend approaching.
She visits often.
She is beautiful.
She cuts me.
She stalks me.
She is evil.
She is always lurking.
She drives me insane.
She leaves my soul hurting.
She is mean.
She is lean.
Her words are like rusty nails to my soul.
Her words are true.
In this madness and sadness, beauty emerges.
I hear soft music coming from my headphones.
It helps me.
It heals my wounds.
It eases my spirit.
The scares remain.
She leaves until the song ends.
Then she is back again.
My Beautiful Sadness.


6/9/2020

Thomas James Tom

the icy ink flowing from my pen was cold enough for concern
the words laying down on my manuscript was not, what was in my head
it appeared to be a warning of some kind
warnings of a mad soul
a soul, living in darkness, surrounded with the brightest of colors
colors, sitting in the background of happiness, just lingering
waiting for the right time to circulate again...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 154

I had a bad week
So at the end, I let out a ****** shriek
And drank all the feelings away
I had a bad week and at the end, all I could help but think
Was the all stupid ways we cope with life’s never ever creek

mad
admen
mental
alchemy