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Eryri Jan 2019
You need 20/20 vision
To focus on the good in 2018.
But don't lose faith,
2019 might surprise,
Positive rises and positive demises:
Let's not name names
(If I did, there'd be no surprises!)
Eryri Sep 2019
Six books resting by my bedside
So many words left unread
As I watch Netflix in my bed
Eryri Jul 2021
What wonders have my wasteful eyes overlooked
Over thirty years of fleeting footfall

A hungry desire for fitness and weightloss
Now yields to age and acceptance.
Eryri May 2019
The polite crowd clap and whoop
Their brogues and plimsoles tap the floor.
Yeah, they worship and adore
This little mess of a group.

Their tunes were never mainstream
Which is just how the cool kids like it
Their identities pursue the dream:
Reject the norm and fight it.
Eryri Apr 2021
Your careworn heart broke
When death came to claim
The life it had coveted so long
The life you shielded for so long

An end to a doomed purpose
Anti climactic? A death and a half?
The shackles a tightened privilege:
Release did not bring you peace.

House and soul were empty that night
No shallow breath for company
The thermostat's click a reminder
Of the warmth he enjoyed.
Eryri Apr 2019
And so it was
That God was boss.
He gave us light
And made it dark,
Is He having a laugh?!
Eryri Jan 2020
“Why us? Why no normal boring ****?”
The miraculous odds that you were conceived
Were offset by the misfortune of love unfit.
A birth with much promise but ultimately deceived.
Left to fend for yourselves like moths and butterflies.

You, the unlucky ones, not cared for in your early years.
Your resilience fails to blossom like those lucky ones
Who know little of your chronology of pain
But still ask what you would do if you had a magic wand,
As if that will provide them with solutions to you, the problem.

Trust takes time and is quid pro quo.
You need lessons in trust and attachments
But this is something that most adults don’t know.
Instead, they humour you or treat you with kid gloves,
Meaning that your adolescence is a bitter surprise
When you’re no longer the person they can infantilise.
Eryri Apr 2020
“Why me? Why no normal boring ****?”
Questions you've asked all your young life.
The miraculous odds of your conception
Offset by the misfortune of love unfit:
A birth of promise ultimately deceived.

Resilience failed to blossom.
'They' know little of your chronology of pain
But still ask the 'magic wand' question
In vain hope of solutions:
Solutions for you, their problem.

You test for trust, seeking attachments.
Instead, they humour you
Treat you with kid gloves
So your adolescence is a bitter surprise:
You’re no longer the person they can infantilise.
Revised
Eryri Dec 2018
A funny thing occurred to me the other day,
Then deoccurred,
Then reoccurred.
Then it occurred to me that it wasn't that funny.
Well, nothing to write about anyway.
Eryri Jan 2020
Bubbled bath,
Relaxing in the aftermath
Of a crazy Christmas Day:
"Wakey wakey" at 5.00am
Play. Eat. Play. Eat. Repeat.
Until 8.00pm
When the batteries finally ran flat.
Eryri Jan 2020
Head plunged beneath the smallest lake
Suspended in an acrylic tub,
The warm lathered water,
Womb-like in comfort and familiarity,
Allows the briefest reflection and realisation
On how this very same room
Once offered me tranquility
And on how, earlier today,
In this very same room some thirty years later,
I bathed my own infant son in tranquility.

There were often times,
As I laid in that same bath tub,
When I pondered on my future
Wondered, in intervals of 10,
What life would be,
What skill I did not possess
Might dictate my future?
The joke being, I held no special talent,
No self-belief that any talent would emerge,
And so, my hopes were never high!
Eryri Jun 2020
The looming grey of your promise
Hangs heavy above our heads
As does that glimmer of hope you hide:
Hope forever present but rarely seen.
Eryri Jan 2019
Our all new house
Is a 'House For Life':
It's a bit of a sty but has:
Toilets downstairs
Toilets upstairs
Wide access doorways
And low level light switches.
Trouble is,
It's made entirely of straw.
Worse still,
Our neighbour is a ****** wolf.
Eryri Aug 2019
Scuffed brown shoes
With laces as long as your arms
Skip and scrape upon the cobbles
Skimming over tiny puddles
Reflecting a hundred suns
Dipping in and out of a thousand clouds.
Eryri Jan 2020
Like so much Beer Money
Jingling merrily in a pocket
The oafish group jostled,
Clanging and clinking
Calling and cursing
Up the unfamiliar boarded-up street
As, unbeknownst to them,
Their collective bird brains
Homed in on the nearest pub.
Eryri Sep 2018
I never come here, you understand,
I'm of a higher social class,
But my washer dryer has broken down
And has left me without a single gown.

My dishwasher works fine and my wine rack is full,
But still, expensive washer dryers can breakdown
And make a lady frown.

I've got someone coming to fix it
(We have our washer dryer insured),
I should really get a new one but it's been really rather good...
It's always washed away the stains of fancy food.

Fellow launderer please understand -
as you look rather tough -
I won't judge you if you don't judge,
So let us wash our clothes in unspoken harmony
And make my inconvenience as unawkward as it can be.

But to my shame my snobbish mind assumes the worst;
That every rushing washer
Is thrusting clothes into the machines hurriedly,
Because they've all been on a killing spree.

Now the drying is almost done,
I can leave you with your dreary woes of working life and sleepless nights,
And go right home to dispose of that gun.
Eryri Dec 2018
The times they are a changin',
Algorithms are modern cupids
Generated and perfected by...
Matchmaking computer whizzkids.

Log-in details now the key to love,
Name, gender, age and location
Algorithmed and matched to...
A potential subject of affection.

But I met my wife on a drinking spree,
On the dancefloor and on a mission
Wine and music combining freely...
Generating the perfect alco-rhythm.
Eryri Jan 2019
Your idealism burned your path
and led you there.
Your desire a burning scythe,
Scorching and hacking
anything you deemed pre-determined.

Only a few tried to stop you.
Only a few told you it was a foolish endeavour,
But you wouldn't hear of it.
Your ears filtered out contrary voices.
Your mind bias to your thoughts of absolute free-will
and its oxymoronic pursuit of a destiny.

And so you left.
Took off under your own power
Leaving a contrail in your wake
Stretching from an eternal West
to an eternal East.
A monochrome rainbow
Befittingly lacking in palette
as your tunnel vision
allowed for only one colour,
Not a mixture of hues and shades
That colour a normal youthful existence.

Although short and unfulfilled,
Your brief sojourn on this world
will be remembered.
Your life's contrail will hang in the sky:
A solitary mark on your life's canvas,
A testimony, not to your Quixotic mission,
But to the good that would have surely followed
the eventual demise of your romantic notions
of solving the world's problems.
Eryri Dec 2021
Doubt sows a seed
In my greenhouse skull
Eryri Oct 2018
Lamp light show me the night
Cast your white-yellow reach
Blot out the darkness that blinds
And smother that which is lightless
With a blanket of warm light.

Night is full of uncertainties,
Is unpredictable and a mystery.
But night need not be dark;
A small beacon can overpower dimness,
And can ***** out a patch of night.
Eryri Mar 2020
Did a shop today:
One in, one out
Each of us an island
In the sea of social distancing.
Eryri Mar 2020
Self-fulfilling idiocy
all around me.

Should I join them
or stay and judge them?
Eryri Dec 2018
As far as wars go
It's a bit of a bore,
But we are at war.
Trade war tariffs:
Monetary missiles,
Cyber attackers:
Heat-seeking hackers.
Yes, hot wars are so passé.
Cold wars,
So-called Star Wars:
All in the past.
Silent battlers
Not sabre rattlers.
Keyboard warriors
No F15s nor Harriers.
Masters of Sanctions
Not Masters of War.
Expelling diplomats
And ***-for-tats.
It's a new World War,
But it's a bore,
So pay attention,
Don't get complacent,
The war drones on.
Eryri Feb 2019
My weekly downhill drive past your flat
And your static life in your static flat
Briefly synchronise courtesy of your mirror's angle,
Opening a brief view into your lonely life:
Your brown vintage sofa
With it's vintage orange cushions,
Your formica TV dinner table.
A retro combo,
Reminding me of the set of a 70s sitcom
Minus the laughs.
Yes, it's a terrible thing
That I can't help but gaze
At that speedy reflection
Of your Thursday nights
Above your anachronistic Everything shop;
The shop *** museum that you've curated
For forty years or more.
Eryri Dec 2019
A day off to do nothing
Is got to be worth something.
A morning of sleeping in...
Dreaming, finally relaxing...
...HOLY CRAP IT'S 3PM!
Eryri Jan 2021
I have placed my childhood bibles (that aren't Bibles) on your bookshelf; hidden them in plain sight. A cheap subliminal trick I know, but one meant as an investment in time and knowledge: to peck away at your curiosity like the Woodpeckers I hope you'll read about in that Illustrated Encyclopedia of Birds, which to you, right now, is just a jumbo colouring book too heavy for your restless hands.
*Mitch Hedberg
Eryri Aug 2018
I fractured my wrist
When I took a risk
Saving point blank
A shot by a lad
Whose foot was like a traction engine.
Now I’m left with a plaster cast,
Yellow in colour,
Like the sun that beats down upon it,
Making my cracked wrist
Itch and sweat,
And sweat and itch.
Eryri Oct 2018
There was death and gore,

During the second world war.

Many people died in extreme violence,

Killed before they could call out to loved ones.

Young men were trained to ****,

Often against their morals and will.

So when I see your 1940s weekend -

Your 'war was fun and cosy' pretence,

Your clichéd polyester and fibre glass mockery,

Aiming to re-enact a mostly imagined happy-go-lucky camaraderie -

Forgive me for not joining in,

As I happen to feel it a cardinal sin,

To idealise and romanticise a decade,

Made up of austerity, rationing and air raids.

I've read a little social history,

The 1940s were not idyllic or crime-free,

Just as now, there were heroes and villains,

Among the soldiers and civilians.

Heroism abounded but so did black marketeering,

There were brave sacrifices but also racketeering.

City-wide black-outs were a gift,

To those who would rob and grift.

Your jolly nostalgic tribute is an annual celebration,

Celebrating your own fabrication,

Of a time when the machinations of war and a crazed ideology,

Saw the near extinction of an entire ethnic minority.

I do not wish to be a party pooper,

But don't just step into the fake shoes of a fictional trooper,

Please occasionally remove your rose-tinted glasses,

To remember that beyond your nostalgic narrative of the routines of the masses,

People lived with the daily fear,

Of the likely deaths of people they held dear.
A little bitter and exaggerated perhaps.
Eryri Mar 2020
When I see your 1940s weekend -

Your 'war was fun and cosy' pretence

Your clichéd polyester and fibre glass mockery, 

Re-enacting an imagined happy-go-lucky camaraderie -

Forgive me for not joining in

As I happen to feel it a cardinal sin

To idealise and romanticise a decade

Made up of austerity, rationing and air raids.

Believe me, I've read a little social history:

The 1940s were not idyllic or crime-free

Just as now, there were heroes and villains

Among the soldiers and the civilians.

Yes, heroism abounded but so did black marketeering

Yes, there were brave sacrifices but there was also racketeering

And those city-wide black-outs were a gift

To those who would rob and grift.

Your jolly nostalgic tribute is an annual celebration

Celebrating your own fabrication

Of a time when the machinations of war and a crazed ideology

Saw the near extinction of entire minorities.

Look, I don't wish to be a party pooper

But don't step into the shoes of a made-up trooper

So, please, remove your rose-tinted glasses

To remember that beyond your nostalgic narrative of the routines of the masses

People lived with the daily fear

Of the likely deaths of people they held dear.
Revised
Eryri Jan 3
Inverted scene of coast and air
Granite cliff clouds and sky of sea
You and I inbetween watching
The topsy turvy, roly poly play
Of two who cast their cares away
Eryri Jul 2019
My dear Astronaut,
Love you to the moon and back:
Easy on splashdown
Eryri Mar 2019
It sits unsquare
Made of tumoured granite
In a dip on a peak
Overlooking a lush green carpeted landscape.

Hurriedly hewn by many hands,
And thrown up by makeshift stoneshifters,
It balances on large pebbles
Held together by Play-Doh mortar.

It is, for all its aesthetic faults,
A resilient testimony
To a family's love
And to a proud identity.
Eryri Jan 2020
The Starlings lent the tree a voice,
A murmured anguish: no rejoice.
Eryri Jun 2019
You ripped the door off:
The electro-magnetic attachment
Was no match for your frustration,
Which goes to show,
You cannot guard against
A young man's anguish
Manifested as rage,
A judged and stigmatised rage,
Born of poor attachment:
An open door that was never closed.
Eryri Jul 2019
I hung tantalisingly in the night sky
For a billion and more years,
Your coy companion,
Your one-faced little twin sister
Left barren by our mutual creation.
Glad was I then
- as an Aunt to your four billion children -
That you sent twelve to visit me in my dotage.
I do hope you visit in peace again soon.
Yours faithfully,
The Moon.
Eryri Dec 2020
The chill wind thrusts
A walk into the stars
Zero G sets wild thoughts free

- all is possible on that voyage -

But the landing is hard
As the door bangs shut.
Eryri Apr 2019
Are you kids reading those ****** books again?
Get some fresh air.

You're addicted to those sodding books!
Go forth and play, it's nice out!

You'll get nowt but square eyes staring at those pages!

You like to read about gossip and dancing
But you don't even gossip and dance in real life!

You're hooked on ****** books!

There's no future in novels,
They're just a fad!
With apologies to Mr Bronte
Eryri Feb 2019
To say you are a Junior Doctor
Would be an understatement.
To say you are fit to practice
Would be irresponsible.
Your bedside manner
Leaves a lot to be desired.
You break your Hippocratic oath
At the drop of a hat.
You hand out prescriptions for Calpol
Like it's going out of fashion.
You tell me to take some pills
For the slighest of chills.
You take my temperature
And tell me I'm fine
When the reading says just 29.
When you check out my heart
You say it goes:
Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom.
But I'll cut you some slack,
You may seem like a Quack,
But if I insist on a free medical
Then I shouldn't expect expertise
From a Doctor aged but 3.
Eryri Sep 2020
A final visit, a necessary trip
Outrunning the lockdown
To fulfil the blackberry pinky promise.

For time with their grandkids.
Eryri Jan 2019
Hands tremble,
Words evaporate
Velvet shoots poke out of soil,
Premature flowering.
Weather cool
Tempers hot,
Nurtured growth stalls.
Weather hot
Tempers cool
Reanimate
Rejuvinate
Blossomate
Eryri Jan 2019
Writing is now a bad habit.
Out of my phone I try...
...to pull out a figurative rabbit
But my eyes get dry
As I try and try
To force an idea
And stare and stare
At a screen still bare,
Bereft of a poem's basic ingredient...
...words.
But, when is a good time to write?
Surely not late at night,
When sleep is what I need!
But the habit kicks in,
And I just won't give in
As I dislike sleep
More than counting sheep.
So on goes the blue light filter,
Negating a circadian rhythm
Wildly out of kilter.
Or so I tell myself,
As I go on staring,
Finger hovering,
Over a sickly yellow screen
Depriving me of a pleasant dream.
Sleep writing
Eryri Mar 2020
Oh, the irony that a respiratory virus
Forced a breathless world
To stop to take a breath
Eryri Feb 14
A cackle of Crows in her craw
Eryri Nov 2020
Shorting neurones fusing
Unconnected memories

Pleasant confusion reigns
Where lucidity once laced mercurial wisdom

A sense of self shuffled
The mind playing dice

The subjugated now just a vessel
For these disordered depositories

Disorientation to time and place
Leaves autonomy forever questioned:

What insight and understanding?
The question for a future of flux.
Car
Eryri Jun 2019
Car
The petrol flowed into its stomach.
Me, its feeder and its keeper,
The taxed and the fined,
The disqualified and the uninsured.
The gullible, puppy-eyed fool
Who bought a machine
To make him look cool.

Cars are real jerks.
Eryri Jul 2019
Your creeping tendrils reek of toil and stress,
They've taken root beneath my bed,
Your nourishment is the nightly sweat,
That drip drip drips off my forehead;
You lap it up greedily.
Every drop intensifying your desire to confuse me,
To consume me with self-doubt,
Slowly but inevitably,
Turning my mind against itself.

An unwilling host for your dark massy form,
I carry you silently dusk to dawn.
You grow fatter day-by-day,
Becoming ever more greedy night-by-night,
Taking joy in supping on my liquid fear:
Like the perfect storm at sea,
You are too big to weather.
You are a ferocious dog let slip his lead.

You have blocked all escape routes,
Your shifting, insiduous form did that stealthily,
My mind, turned-in, paralyzes me:
A mental and physical double-lock,
Confining me to my king-size prison,
Meaning you can gorge upon my misery,
Until you leave nothing but an empty shell,
Then friends and family will all agree, 
"at least now he is free of his living Hell"
Eryri Nov 2018
So many lost cats...

I really must give them back.
Eryri Jun 2019
The weather was changeable,
A warming sun for the previous hour,
Then, without warning,
The wind rose high,
The roof rose higher:
No use running for cover, I thought,
Since the cover had gone the way of my courage.
You see, I had a role to fulfil
Sure, its fulfillment in sunny spells was a breeze
But in a Force Ten gale?
(Cue howls of laughter)
Progress was at the pace of a snail
And nerves are torn to ribbons
(Much like the poor flags).
Was it life or death?
Well, it depended on how much you didn't wish to die.
Luckily for me, my aim in life is not to witness death
And that is why I pushed on,
And huffed and puffed
Until we got our Lifeboat to the stricken drunken Jetski pilots.
Eryri Jan 2019
Chester draws big crowds on raceday.

Employees dress up for away-days,

And punters hope for a big pay-day.

But, come the end of the day,

After bad bets that were the last straw,

All the fancy garb is taken off,

And put back in the chest of drawers.
Eryri Dec 2021
Molten days pour from from Shore to Sea
Combining to generate memory's energy
In the boiling hiss of an evaporating week.
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