a haiku about wandering

.HomeSweetHome.
Wandering lost still
looking for that rural path.
To my home at last.

haiku

.WhyNotTheDeathPenalty.
A fresh new morning,
one more completed in life.
My prison sentence.

some haikus

.SpringTimeBreeze.
Leaf tumbles in breeze
thrown far from home, lost alone.
In Kansas no more.

.GhostTrains.
Dandelion seeds,
pour down railways on the breeze,
like smoke from coal trains.

more haikus

.HomeLess.
Click my slippers heels,
wishing theres no place like home.
Still lost and alone.

.AFriendToAllOfUs.
Tired of waiting.
I am here, why dont you come?
My patient friend Death.

some more haikus

.RainSoon.
Clouds overhead brew,
turning into greying lumps
of sucked candyfloss.

.WaitingForMyFlight.
Flight of butterfly
graceful towards a fresh start.
Shell, left dead behind.

.ForgottenConversations.
Headphone encased world,
no-one but ourselves in it.
We are all strangers.

some haikus once more

FollowThePath.
Trees natter above,
like old cheek pinching grannies.
Scared, lost in this wood.

.GloryDays.
Viaduct stands proud,
valley below hurting, in pain.
Still scarred from abuse.

.SoulRot.
Drizzling rain, damp
creeping to the rotting souls,
collapsed valley towns.

haiku

.ThereSheIs.
Pretty face, once close.
Walks by, with polite lost wave,
another regret.

dirty stop out

Again, you make this morning trek
nothing more than a hungover wreck.
Head down walking, your heels click
like the sheriff in some western flick.
Your dress doesnt offer any protection
against your shame. Like an auction,
you went home with the highest bidder
its just leaves you feeling much cheaper.
Shivering, alone, walking through town,
full of self loathing, waiting to be found.
They look at you and feel them shout,
the words burn deep, 'you dirty stop out'.
Wanting to be centre of their attention,
yet for him you just provided a functon.
Kick you out without offer of breakfast
doesnt care, he sleeps on, not fussed.
Not even helping you to find your jumper,
your head says, get out of there, scarper.
Eyes no longer sparkle are far long dead,
dark thoughts again creep into your head.
Deep inside you cry, cheap dirty whore,
as you walk back through your front door,
wipe that old, worn makeup off your face,
scrubbing yourself clean with some pace.
Looking at yourself in the mirror you see,
your disappointed self, wanting to flee

lost then found

Awake in my room,
unable to move, because of all this pain.
Come, quench this rage pour down rain
until I'm nothing more.

Slumped on sidewalk,
struggling to see, destroyed by emotions.
Hurt me now, to cause further reactions
until I'm nothing more.

lying on a hospital bed,
unable to move because of the restraints.
Finally someone has heard my complaints,
now I'm home.

pillow lover

There is a space and will always be,

a space for you in my arms

that only you can fill.

So I've bashed my pillow

into your shape.

all I am to you

I am not what you want to see,
what you hope, believe in me to be.
All I am is my mothers misery.

I warned you to stay well back,
please dont come closer I'll attack.
All I am is my minds sad & black.

I am kept secure, safe in this cage,
where I can perform on my own stage.
All I am is my fathers deep rage.

I live in my self imposed isolation
dead inside, full of wanting frustration,
All I am is lonely oneman nation.

I punish myself for reasons forgotten,
the inside my core dank, completely rotten.
All I am is weak like delicate cotton.

I fall down into the dark musty floor,
hands bloodied from beating at the cell door.
All I am is a dying lions last roar.

I slump to the ground about to drown,
my face is scarred from my angry frown.
All I am to you is a unfunny clown.

I feel my life fading, final breath,
my long awaited friend arrives, thats death.
All I am to you is a pathetic mess.
(say mess with a lisp, otherwise it doesnt work)

kicking myself again

Still even now, running them through my head
all those simple moments when I could of said.
I still see that smile of yours in every woman
see, I was and probably still am its biggest fan
Slouched on the sofa, looking in my direction.
Said what I want to hear, waiting for a reaction,
your long legs, poking out the bottom of the bed
tall enough so there was not much tilt of my head
to look at you. Features so stunning and a delight,
I promised I would defend your honour in a fight.
An honest chap to those all around but not for me,
keeping myself blind, refusing, not wanting to see.
I miss your cooking my belly continues to mourn,
you were my morning chours each and every dawn.
Reach out my hand to touch you, pull it away again
like that old worn joke and run it through my mane.

That worn out joke, thats me.

The Captain

My friend, the captain of his ship
pround and mighty, not like this tip
the sails on his ship full of patience,
flags flying high on a ship of vigilance.
Sails into these storms, never hesistates
to stop me, drowning in my weak states.
He stands firm, solid, not queasy on deck,
ready to guide to calmer waters, this wreck.
Someone I want to be like, a respected captain
tall, imposing and fearless like a mountain.
Rather than this drunk surly, salty seadog,
still lost deep in the dark thick bitter fog.
By his side his faithful woman, his firstmate
she too patiencly keeps me shipshape.
Wont be long til I'm made to walk the plank,
into the sea deep, dark, damp, cold and dank.
At least they've given me time to learn to swim
even if my life. future is bleak and ever so dim.
there is ever only so much I can be reassured.
Scared, I feel as if I should jump over board.
To allow them to sail untroubled into the sunset
this man my friend, I'm honoured I've met.

Hostels

In Haarlem, I spent the evening drinking sweet tasting rose beer, drumming my fingers on the bartop as a dutch band play tightly in the corner. Looking at my watch I realise that it's getting late.
Not only am I in a town I dont know, but I'm in a country I've only just set foot in. It dawned on me I had better make an attempt to get to the Hostel. Staggering alone through the streets that I had only just been introduced to that morning, I make it to the bus stop and manage to get on the correct bus, as it slides effortlessly through the quiet, wide streets of Haarlem.
Out towards the outskirts of town is the Hostel, and I am still sloshing about on the bus seat from too much beer. I'm suprised with myself that I've made it this far without getting lost. I Slink into the hostel quietly, then into my room.
Everyone else is already asleep and in my experience, rather than make a mess all over the floor, I decide to get up onto my bunk before any attempt try to undress is made. The reason that I always have the top bunk is for this very reason; while attemptng to climb up the ladder to my bunk, my drunk leg swings into the bunk underneath and kicks the person below in the head. Realising what has just happened, I spring up into bed and feign a deep sleep in a desperate attempt to shift the finger of blame.
The morning blurs around, and the rest of the room begins to murmur. Poking my head out of the bunk to expect repercussions, I spot a girl in her underwear stretching off her slumber, she walks over and says something to the male on the bunk below.
Now i really feel sorry for him, I've kicked him in the head and just seen his girlfriend in her underwear.I fall back to sleep hazily drunk, awaking a little later when the room is empty. I sheepishly enter the breakfast room on my own, to feast on cold meats and cheese.

plum

Plum, floating down river,
say how did you get there?
Well its an interesting story you see,
I was out down town with my friend pear
drinking tequila with a shiver.
So drunk I fell out of my tree
and well, here I am

man at piano

Man at piano,
writing a song about love.
Knows not what to write.

the perfect stranger

I wish i was you
as you walk through the park,
hand in hand with beautiful girls

I wish i was you
skipping, laughing, having a lark.
But at that point my life unfurls.

I wish i was you
ao i could keep it altogether,
rather than this emotional mess.

I wish i was you,
you perfect stranger,
than me, with my issues to address.

Self Hate

The problem with self harm is if you try and get help and tell friends, they ten just to shout at you for being silly.

Well, ok then if you're just going to shout at me, then i wont tell you next time it happens.

But now if i ever get a cut on my arm, i get asked if im harming again, no i just caught my arm on some brambles as i was walking. Are you sure? they reply, dont believe me then!

They're like homemade tattoos except they go deep into your soul.