I write poems to chase rotting ghosts from my soul.
To clear thoughts, voice ideas and to make myself whole.

I'm not here to write classics or tell of epic events.
Just to gather thoughts, clear my head and hope to make sense.

I read what you write and hear your point of view.
I learn from your lessons and I search what is true.

If just one word in return that I write should make you reflect.
I am honored you found some meaning and reason to connect.

I found my autobiography on the fiction shelves in the town library!?

I look again upon the sky as I have done so many times before.
To see the change of natures' palette as sun sinks beyond horizon's floor.

The blue of daytime sky and the wisps of white and mottled gray,
give-way to golden inlaid mauve upon red curtain as amber fades away.

Hues of golden yellow that were present short moments before,
now lost beyond the silhouetted landscape as if cast to distant shore.

Flame upon the heavens, cloud lit as if scattered, precious jewels.
Colours of natures palette so vibrant, disobeying all artistic rules.

silhouettes of birds in flight etched in black upon the fading light,
All traversing in rapid beat of wing, to seek shelter from the night.

Trees and distant vistas mere shadows where sun did slide away,
as palette welcomes the new nighttime bidding farewell to passing day.

Yesterday   = pass
Today         = D+ (progressive grading)
Tomorrow = Enrollment Pending

Trying to fill the days and forcing them to go.
Finding there are too many in a never ending flow.
What to do with time that never seems to end.
Seemingly more hours than with which I can contend.
Playing games and dithering just to pass the time away.
Sleeping endless moments and still finding its today.
Why do all the days seem so very long?
What choice did I make to make time ebb so wrong?
I know it hasn't always passed or seemed to happen in this way.
But oh so long ago since they were all a twenty four hour day.
No rhythm or regularity in times pattern anymore.
Why so many hours and what are the days all for?
I used to measure days by the passing of the sun.
But many times I sleep and of daylight I see none.
You may think I have control of all rhythms in these things.
But why control the repetition tomorrow always brings?
If I sleep eight times and I eat just only three.
Is that not a measure of how long my week should be?
Must I sleep just seven and eat per some schedule too?
Will I then contend with time as I am meant to do?
Will days take new meaning and my hours hold more reward?
Or will the extra hours awake just make me much more bored?
If I sleep twelve times and I eat when I have need to.
Aren't the days still the same length both for me and you?
Do we really share the same cycle if I view it on my own?
Or does time really move much slower for those who are alone?

Just a few more comments to an earlier post of rhyme.
Where I touched upon how I am seeing different rates of time.
Seems a man named Einstein discovered long ago.
That there was a different perception of seeing time in flow.
He says that if you are moving toward me I will see you shades of blue.
And while you move toward me you are that colour until you pass through.
Those who have been and gone will turn to shades of red.
No I swear that I am serious, it is what Einstein has said.
So I have my answer as to why time moves slow for me.
You are all in motion and I'm stuck where I used to be.
I think I already knew this and suspected it as truth.
But I never expected Albert Einstein would be my proof.

Sometimes I feel the darkness
as it draws itself yet oh so near.
Shrouds of blackest pitch,
Like a shiver of the spine,
caused by a scream I feel but do not hear.

All pervasive gloom
that shrouds my world to never ending black.
Dragging down both soul and sense,
Like a craven remorseless killer
intent on demonic inhuman attack.

I feel it in my body and I sense it
as it encroaches on my mind.
Taking both warmth and light,
Leaving never ending blackness,
devoid of hope of any kind.

At times the will to fight
has been totally taken away.
Rational mind and tired limbs,
Made to give up all reason
to stand and fight for one more day.

I sense an endless wave that drowns me
in utter dark despair.
Kicking through all defence,
Until all will to live yet one more moment,
evaporates into thin air.

The fight is ever daily
and the waves they come and go.
Random depths to which I fall,
How I survive amidst the darkest waves,
I really do not know.

In days gone by the waves have compelled me
to physically react.
More than one failed attempt,
Still I yet remain by fluke,
compounded by the lessons that I lacked.

I know that I have learned
and can push all normal fears aside.
In life we learn from failures,
And it is chance and not hope,
keeps me safe where I now hide.

Why from singularity to universe
across fourteen billion years?
Then give me just but these sixty
in the company of countless tears?

Why is it I am here to witness,
the wonder of universal things?
Only to know I will never know,
what cosmic evolution finally brings?

Why am I born to a species,
that seeks to know all it can?
But then given such small a window,
I can never hope to see all it's plan?

Why evolve a sentient intelligence,
that looks far beyond Earth's ground?
To give each only such a short lifespan,
where all the answers can't be found?

Why congeal my eternal dust this way,
and then evolve me to conscious thought?
Where universe and evolution continues on,
my consciousness given time oh so short?

Why since the creation of all things,
has evolution had need of so many years?
Without simple insights and more answers,
to give rise of hope for a life of fewer tears?

Why the bindings of science and physics,
that dictate all that comes and goes?
Where time and space and matter,
are given restriction and order to their flows?

Why give me the power to think and question,
in this section of space and time oh so small?
Where rational thought must finally conclude,
humankind has no significance in the plan at all.

Today's that fill with memory of yesterday,
So many days of happiness and of sorrow.
And yet we wake each morn to dream,
That there may be better days tomorrow.

I walked into life's library to seek perhaps adventures there.
Not really knowing what I sought my expectations unaware.

I looked first at the non-fiction upon shelves marked clearly with tape.
The more I looked yet did I realize it was from that I sought escape.

I chanced upon a section where great imagined dramas did abound.
Where mystic stories and strange creatures on the pages could be found.

Caught briefly by the imagined on the pages with heroes deeds upon.
I realized all was fantasy so through the pathway of books I ventured on.

Time passed as it tends by some scale that seemed so erratic in its flow.
As shelves and stories passed me by along the route I chose to go.

I came then to a section with a long queue of people standing there.
Patiently in their place and each with determined and focused stare.

What was it that drew them and caused this lengthened line?
Their looks suggested that the need, was very much like mine.

I had passed so many shelves with random people here and there.
But no other shelf or section for which this queue I could compare.

Through strong and strange compulsion I resolved to take my chance.
To join the much sought after line toward the shelf of "Love and Romance".

If I could live my life just to repair my mistakes...
To turn left when I went right or right when I should have gone left...
To unhurt those I have hurt...
I think I would be one hundred and eighty nine when I was done.
How can so many lifetimes bear the knowing of me?
Even but briefly.
Cause and effect, choice and consequence.... the physics of human non physicality.

It would seem my dropping out of school has cost me in loves game yet again.
Going with a lovely lady to the towns hottest club...
How was I to know that the sign outside "Liquor at the front and poker out the back" didn't mean what I thought it did.

Like a hungry shark has loneliness again come to feed upon my heart and mind.
Ravenous and savage it feeds upon a soul that warmth and love has left behind.
Once again a mind and heart that love avoids is to the darkness lead.
Bloodied, mauled and torn to shreds, remnant carcass left floating dead.
Never sated and without remorse it tears, as it feeds there in the empty dark.
Savagely, ever feeding, ever gnawing, ripping into my souls last hopeful spark.
Hungry, starving, ravenous and in frenzy and seemingly never fully fed.
No worth, no value, adrift, no purpose to any futures' plan but still I am not dead.
Razor teeth intent upon taking every ounce of my last mortal dream and hope.
Until mind is convinced that it's only peace is best found in a loop of sturdy rope.
This is the game that shark and loneliness play so often within my heart and mind.
The shark, the loneliness, love or a length of rope who wins I am still yet to find.

When the last of those you trust have pushed you to the side.
And you can see and think of nothing but the ever rising tide.
When there is no joy left for you and you see no way to turn.
And the pain just sears at you like a ever scorching burn.
When you feel the tears are pressing behind your very eyes.
And you see no hope left to you after failing all your tries.
When your heart is refused and not taken by those you wish to give.
And no matter the miles to the horizon you see nothing compelling you to live.
When all you feel is empty and you hurt way down inside,
And you just have no more tears and there is nothing left of pride.
When all you have left to you is lonely, dark despair,
Keep an eye out for me.... I am already waiting there.

Oft have I paused to think upon faith and what makes it strong.
The faith to be wise and to know right from wrong.
No not the faith that gives rise for Gods to be born.
But the strength and belief to fight when I am most torn.
I speak of the faith to believe of who I might be.
The faith to know with conviction its enough to be me.
A faith to be sure and a faith with no doubt.
No mumbles in meekness but a voice raised in shout.
So long since my faith was so raised up on high.
So little belief now that there is nought else but to cry.
What can be done to restore faith that is now lost.
With each thought and contemplation at additional cost.
So low now on faith... did I ever really believe?
Perhaps all along... not faith... but only... self deceive?
How can I live a life where all belief of self has faded away.
To what point, without my own faith, to greet the next day.

If someone tells you they are blind... do you test them?
Do you doubt them? Do you disbelieve them or judge them?
Do you deny the Labrador in harness or perhaps the cane in hand?
What dogs and canes must I present for your eyes if I say I am broken? Will you believe me if I have nothing to show in evidence other than my word?
Will you see and believe or would you test me to cross a freeway unaided?
I am broken. I have no dog. I have no cane and the traffic is heavy.
I am blind shouting to the deaf.

I provided you the key to my destruction when I told you that I loved you.
Too late I saw your betrayal with my eyes so blinded to the beauty of your "truths".
Knowingly and willfully betrayal ever your intended game and love the Trojan Horse you used.
With malice and intent you brought me down whilst whispering lies of love still to my heart.
Not contented or completed in the devastation you continued to yet say you loved me too.
Honey coated blindness to the actions and the deeds of your true purpose.
A greater evil I have never known and am sure no greater could exist.
With intent to destroy an other's heart as if it were a game... no greater evil have I known... than for you to knowingly use my love for you... as the weapon for my annihilation.

Solid door seemingly so sturdy now tight and firmly sealed.
No hint from outward of hearts secrets, the mansion has concealed.

Many dreams long now vacated from the vast and empty halls.
Fragmented memories that hang, framed upon the fading walls.

The facade of many windows where no light within does show.
Seemingly no memory of love that this heart may once did know.

Like echoes upon the air the hidden memories ensconced in there.
Until echo fades to nothing and empty sadness taints the stale air.

Tortured walls in hallways that peel, are rent with unfilled crack.
Memory that time has worn and eroded as only time can lay attack.

No hint of any joy or laughter left within this mansions frame.
No face of beauty even in memory by which love recalls her name.

The things we would wish to forget become our recurring nightmares, for often they are attached to people we would never choose to forget.
How can you lose only the nightmare when your heart cant forget how good it once felt?

Seven billion poets and rising. Fourteen billion ears and no one can hear.

If my words go unread and my voice goes unheard, did I ever exist.

I don't know if a bear did but I did when I was camping.

If we call the start a big bang when it goes will it be the little whimper or the even bigger bang?

Is it true that ****** shoes are nailed on?

I used to be on hormone therapy.... but she put up her prices.

So lonely now the road I travel so far from what I have known,
Empty and in darkness, borne by pain, so I choose to walk alone.

Where are the faces that once I knew so well?
Abandoned or forsaken along the pathway to this hell.

Craving with a longing to know for real true loves hold,
But too scared of hurt again , safe but empty, I sit out in the cold.

Heart of many fragments and a mind that feels the same,
Trust and loves' illusions are the things I have come to blame.

How can I escape here? What is there to do?
For even if I could love again I could have no trust in you.

Something so fundamental broken and seemingly beyond repair.
So obvious to all who see it, they fear getting close enough to care.

A form of emotions scarecrow born of mind and shared by heart,
To chase real love and trust away before it has time to make a start.

So tired of being lonely, of being caught up in this spell,
Much too afraid to step outside, to replay what led me to this hell.

I seem destined to endure loneliness' never ending empty burn...
Broken mind the only ear to heart's desolate and pleading  yearn.

I wake up to clear blue skies and the brightest sunny day
But despite it all my mood is tainted by the deepest sense of grey.

My eyes give rise to tears that are flowing from my inner core
Yet I have no clear reason of why my tears have need to pour.

Tears and darkest greyness at the beginning of my day
No reason see I for them but still the mood must have it's say.

Deep waves of souls dark despair as I wipe my tears away
I prepare my public face, to hide my heart, as I go out into the day.

I remember how it felt and every dark and angry pain,
the feeling of tender soreness from every ache and throbbing sprain.

I remember ruptured internals and the fire of an appendix burst,
and the excruciating agony at every touch that was loudly cursed.

I remember the touch of many physical pains that left me feeling sore,
But nothing hurts so much as that last time you left my door.

Of all the people who have done me harm and caused me hurt, the only one I have ever come to hate is me.

I have found true love at last so near my dying day.
A mistress who does not judge or lead me only to dismay.
Rewarding in so many ways many treasures so refined.
And gives a love to inspire in return a loyal and devoted kind.

A page for all my needs and fulfilling all of my desire.
My every passion fed fulfilled to light my internal fire.
Never finding fault in me or doubting of my worth.
No truer love have I known in my wanders upon this Earth.

No question of the love now found that meets my every need.
No lies or deceits as went before to cause my soul to bleed.
No test to tell if I am straight or perhaps leaning toward the gay.
I give praise to the creator, and will always laud him, for eBay.

Do you see clear the coast at hand.
And know the side to which you stand.
Are your feet safe in the sand.
Or do you flounder in the waters band.
Is your strength firm on the land.
Or will sea hold sway through its command.
Will you follow the seas demand.
Or pull for shore with oars all manned.
To steer the course that life has planned.

Can my arms hold you, protect you, give you warmth?
Can my lips know the soft touch of yours?... their taste, their wetness.
Can my lips caress yours, gently **** upon yours and my tongue explore them?
Can my hands know the softness of your skin? The warmth and wonder of your smooth enticing flesh?
Can they explore the curves of your body as my lips continue to explore yours?
My lips upon your neck? To trace the gentle soft curve to your shoulder? To your chest, to your *******, to your ******? To kiss a while, to **** and to cherish and worship you?
Can I breathe the scented warm air of your cleavage? To kiss there as my hands trace your soft sensual curves?
Can my lips and hands and eyes know your beauty? Can my senses feast upon your loveliness?
Can I kneel before you? To kiss you intimately, to touch you with firm strokes upon your flesh, thighs, calves, hips? To draw you onto my lips and tongue.
Can I make love to you as a goddess is meant to be desired?
Can I wake beside you? Holding you all through the night? And in the morning can my eyes take delight in your soft beauty?
Can I kneel before you and worship you for the goddess of love and beauty that you are?

If yes please phone 05717 657 7512 and ask for big John.

There are too many days..... I cant do this many days. Too many days where darkness wins. Fate laughs endlessly. I am Fate's comedic performer and he laughs without end. Like a donkey behind a carrot I am led and with the rasp of a donkey's bray Fate's laughter rings in my ears.
I don't think I can do this. Where joy is substituted by despair and happiness succumbs to death.... and the symphony of laughter is the tune. The strings on this puppet are frayed and worn but the puppeteer is relentless. How do you fix the strings of a puppet in motion? Who will catch the puppet if he falls? I can hear no answers above the laughter that rings in my ears and so this puppet on tattered strings dances on to the tune that Fate maintains. How long is a piece of string? It matters not if the string can carry no weight.

To travel from light to darkness takes but the instant to blink.
To return requires an unknown path and a light worth finding.

Hear the call of a lonely heart that knows that love is blind.
Seek for me as I seek for you and perhaps some day we'll find.
Every day you are a world away and are hidden from my sight.
Yet still my heart does cry to you for some comfort day and night.

A world made much more sad and lonely than it even was before.
Lost by distance of uncertain times, greater than some far off shore.
The sound of two hearts calling as they share a dreamers beat.
Never really knowing, yet but hoping, that they will one day meet.

Do you know that place where fears are put away?
Do you know that place where pain holds no power?
Do you know that place where clarity abounds?
I have seen there, been there... at its edge.
I have stepped across its border.
By fates hand was I drawn back.
Where fear holds sway, pain endures and confusion is all.
The door forever ajar... fate can not win every time.
There is a freedom in this that many will never accept.
But knowing and accepting it gives me the strength to fight.

So many poems to inspire and convey every passion.
Expression of every emotion, thought and consciousness of place.
Of all the poetic words ever written none speaks so loud as a famous but anonymous and often quoted Australian line of verse...

" *uck me.... I stuffed it.... its *ucked".

No line has held the heartache, self disgust, resentment and sense of loss and desperate despair so concisely. Its brevity adding to its beauty. A full story in a line.
For non Aussies they may not see its beauty... but for an Aussie its high emotion in a nutshell.

So difficult a thing to give the inexperienced a way to understand.
Why I am shaped the way I am by things I had never planned.

I could tell you of those things in the hope they would shine a light.
But unless you have been there you just couldn't see them right.

Now I know that from the outside I may look the same as you.
But I also know that on the inside I can see a different view.

Those unplanned things that changed me in oh so many ways.
Leaving me without a point or purpose facing lonely empty days.

So deep the changes made that I struggle to leave my own door.
In a head that despises minutes and asks what all the hours are for.

In a mind that knows me Oh so well fearing you can see inside.
Withdrawn from your society is my only safe place to hide.

My mind is not so broken that I have forgotten all my past.
It knows full well that by choice hope and love have been outcast.

To the inexperienced from a mind that survives a life in this way.
I hope you have clearer understanding of how I live my every day.

I have no wisdom to offer or warning of a path you should avoid.
External views wont show you why survival has been employed.

Where choice has different meaning, instinct plays a bigger part.
And mind suppresses both hope and dreams of a broken heart.

I am become who I am by the path my life road has turned.
I am this shape by instinct to survive, not from lessons I have learned.

There are but only twenty four hours in each and every day
though so often this seems untrue whether we work or are at play.
The measure that ticks the seconds to make the minutes,
to make the hours that so slowly merge and fade away.
Until memory and minds shadows, paint all with shades of gray.
Life's joys and countless traumas that by seconds come and go,
at the ticking of a clock, shaping for each the living we come to know.
Smiling faces joined in laughter or sad eyes so full with tears,
by second, minute, hour, day until time becomes our lived out years.
We journey in a search for contentment and for a heart to find its way,
passing dreams that fade as if but seconds and still hope of that one day.

As I grow much older and my senses begin to fade. My hearing never good.
I have come to ponder how we feel and think so alike in many ways.
Are we not the same? Do we not share dreams?
I have come to think we are all one soul.
So many people have shouted this at me over time.... "You are an Our Soul"....
I have come to believe it and I think they are too.

Of dust both stars and we are born and so to all will each return.
But in between, dust gives a heart a need for loves' enduring yearn.
In times' course on cosmic scale all particles are drawn to another one.
And so stars and love set adrift, until once more, all but dust is gone.

Over half a hundred years
and still I journey on.
At times I'm left to wonder
Where all the years have gone.

Memories that hold the proof
that this life was really mine.
Reflecting as I sometimes do
was it fate or predestined line?

Did I make real choices
that took me down this path?
Or did some cosmic scheme
shape every tear and laugh?

Is all I am and all I've been
of unique and individual shape?
Or was I made to be like this
taking part in manufactured jape?

If some hand does guide it
and I be but actor in some play,
What point in this life I have,
for it to be played out this way?

Of course there is no answer
that I can ever be sure to know.
So I just blindly journey on
to wherever this line might go.

Random course or predefined
my day to day follows every bend.
And over half a hundred years,
I am so much nearer to its end.

How cruel to say you loved me as sweetly in my ear.
How cruel it was to hold me as tightly, your body oh so near.

How cruel it was to press your flesh so very close to mine.
How cruel to share a passion when as one we did entwine.

How cruel to share a romance and true lust when on our own.
How cruel to give the softest kisses that my lips have ever known.

How cruel it was to promise that you would always care.
How cruel it was to talk of a future that we would one day share.

The cruelest thing of all that will always haunt my mind.
Is to recall the beauty of it all in the memories you left behind.

It may be a truism but optimists cant escape it....
No one is right all of the time.
The only difference there has ever been is the frequency between  being wrong and right.

When an optimist falls in the woods only the pessimists will notice.

If E=MC squared and I am 9 stone why cant I get up in the morning?

If all things are "relative" why haven't I heard from any of you?

If nothing moves faster than light how does that cold drop of water beat me when I go to the bathroom in the mornings?

Truly it inspires me to visit the ether on which you pen.
To speak of things of who I am,
and of my times of "when".
To see the universes you've painted all revolving there.
To understand that not all voices,
are tainted by despair.
In a universe of darkness no shadow could I see.
Shouting words into the pitch,
I thought only heard by me.
I take the time to thank you all whether you write or read.
For in my place of darkness,
you have planted starlight's seed.

Happy are so many memories...
But better still is the instance from which they are born.

Man of greed and narrow thought whose power holds the lands.
By cash alone you compel us all to follow your commands.

And willingly for our own needs we see your world as true.
Bought blindness to dictate our days on a course that profits you.

We close our eyes to the carnage and the killing that you call right.
And we pray for something better than greed and a show of might.

In our hearts we know your motive and the wrongs that you do.
And hope that there is some way we will not need to follow you.

You do not pause to think that you could ever be in the wrong.
And through your reins of power you drag us right along.

I see the world rebelling as by fire nature strikes us back.
With those you opposed, in the news, telling of your foolish attack.

Fear of what you lose compels you to fight change at all cost.
And because we do no better we will all eventually be lost.

Many of us have forgotten the simple things that we were taught.
Such as trust, morality and right are things that can not be bought.

The world when it is sane will come to hate your very name.
But by lethargy and greed the next chosen, sure to be just the same.

Like post-it notes,
upon a yearbooks page.

Hand scrawled summaries,
of the important bits.

Faces, places, names,
happiness and sadness,
loves and passions,
hurts and pain.

Tattered but treasured remnants,
that taught me, that made me.

They fashioned me,
and completed my design.

All duly noted and stored,
and learned for good or ill.

These are my memories,
they are both me and mine.

I sought help from you and all your kind.
To fix the cracks formed in my mind.
I reached out because all was dark.
In desolation without a spark.
Consulting you because my mind had flipped.
I don't recall the name of pills on that script.
So many now that have come and gone.
So many kinds you've had me on.
My mind and body with side effect.
Years and years of that neglect.
Going cold while changing types.
Try something new with all its hypes.
Still waving like a drowning man.
And despite my plea no change of plan.
Is this all your education can do?
What really is the point of you?
Years of drugs and threats of E.C.T
Do you know the new cracks you made for me?
I wont medicate this stuff not one more pill.
Not one of my mental cracks did it fill.
Feeling better just being drug free.
Thank you Doc for helping me.

If there were but some other place,
a place where shadows do not grow,
I would go to be there in that space,
where happier things I just might know.

Away from fear and hurt and pain,
and so many lonely, empty days.
Perhaps to see the sun's light again,
to feel a joy while my spirit plays.

If only just once more a time to see,
not how things are in my everyday,
but rather how things were meant to be,
before things decayed and went away.

Trapped in this unlit shadowed place,
of the loneliest and very darkest kind.
Forever lost am I, lost without a trace,
A prisoner of my own overactive mind.

There is no other place that I can go.
No other place to see...
there is no other place, I will ever know.
there's only me....

There is a scream that lives inside born of endless pain.
It takes me down by every thought residing in my brain,
So hard for me to keep a world that resembles even being sane.

A feeling of sad deep despair grown from within my inner core,
I feel it rise again and know that it is here to stay forever more.
So long the question I've asked myself "what do I go on for?"

There must be a reason and there has to be some way...
So many are the wounds that lead me to souls dark decay,
Struggling to find reason to go on even just for one more day.

When you know that love and hope and dreams are long dead,
How to stop the dark thoughts congealing within your head?
What is there left to keep your world sane and a soul well fed?

You know you gave everything and it has all become to tough,
And the face I show now to the world is all a front and only bluff.
When all the future I know lays ahead just cant be enough.

I have become pointless and a soul so depressed....
Not yet expired, but a ghost of who I was, not yet laid to rest.
And by my own judgement I have failed life's every test.

Many are the droplets that bead upon the windows pane.
As I look beyond the misted glass at the slowly falling rain.

Low hung wisps of white race upon the grey-est sky.
And puddles form with unheard splash before captivated eye.

The ground is damp and made sodden by the ever steady flow.
And so to now runs a stream that follows where kerb bids it to go.

Leaves upon trees seem now burdened by drops so hard to bear.
Made to shed their cargo by the motions of puff of dampened air.

A distant roll of thunder to accompany the patter on roofs tin.
A symphony by nature heard, whilst warm and dry within.

I look on as melancholy witness through drizzles on the glass.
Melancholy not through rain, but rather, from knowing it will pass.

Does everyone come to realize that life is just a terminal illness?

We may not share the same path or length of time on life's journey.... but we do have in common that each day takes us one day nearer to its end.