Nonsensical Narcissism.


About Me

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London, United Kingdom
Arrogant and self obsessed. I talk a lot but not about anything that matters. Sometimes I wish I was dead.

Friday, 26 March 2010

Sunday, 31 January 2010

Love Hates Fear


Love is a demon possession of the soul.
It flails, twisting and writhing
While inside I’m screaming and dying.

Love is a chemical imbalance in the brain.
It confuses, unsettled and fizzing
While my insides are bubbling and whizzing.

Love is a mystery to everyone here.
It flutters, glittering, twirling
While inside my senses are swirling.

Hate is an entirely human emotion.
It seizes, furious and gripping
While inside the bile is diving and dipping.

Hate is able to break your world.
It swells, spreading and filling
While inside I’m punching and killing.

Hate finds trouble in peacetime.
It grows, jealous and loud
While inside I swallow and don’t make a sound.

Fear is a psychological burn.
It’s silent, restraining but physically weak
While inside I’m smaller and emotionally meek.

Fear is a medical condition.
It’s present, anaesthetized but grave
While inside I can feel strong and brave.

Feel is both fleeting and final.
It crumbles, all bravery is eaten
While inside I’m bold, I won’t be beaten.

Sunday, 3 January 2010

The Edge of Sanity


Sleep through the sun but wake up to the moon

Life cycle full cycle 30 degree wash-

Right foot, left shoe, laces tied inside out

Screaming kisses and hatred hugs.


On the verge, the edge or the cliff

Jumping off the cliff

Dying, diving, swimming, drowning.


Barrel? Barrage? Bucket?

More contradictions than are counted.

Rhyming, whining, scheming.

Myself and others, falling leaning-

Drop?


Burying head- sand or duvet?

Tiny stresses and massive moans.


Bath or shower, get dressed, stay dressed.

Not sexy. No sex. Just love? All love.

Sadness, isolated, thrilled and excitable.


Mixing a life, a cake, a soup.

Veg, flour, eggs and emotion,

Emotional eggs? Fragility ensues

Through life and the universe, as tears

Splash.

Wednesday, 30 December 2009

Wristbands


For SI awareness:

Hiding cuts with recovery wrist bands,
Covering all flesh from shoulder to knee.
We wonder if this secret can be kept forever,
Living in fear that someone might see

While at the same time crying out,
Wanting love and support through the pain.
But no one would believe us, or no one would care
So we cut and we hide- all over again.

When you see somebody in the August sun,
Long sleeves and jeans covering skin-
Spare a just a moment to remember:
We are more than our scarres, we are what's within.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

Unscrambled love


For Danny:


A text, a phone call, a bunch of flowers

You complete me like a piece in a game.

Your love falls like the nicest of showers

Surrounds me, watches me, keeping me sane.

Like the Q square in a game of scrabble

Or a tricky crossword clue, you are a

One off, unique, a bitch to unravel.

But I’d not have it any other way.

Impossibly perfect yet completely

Flawed. You taste, you touch, you sense and you see.

Real life is never so boxed and neatly

Put, as i hope this sonnet will be(come).

That you stuck around and loved me for me

Has a hand in showing, how we just, be.


Monday, 14 September 2009

Blank Tears


This was written after a hearing Luke Wright's Mr Blank, this summer:

So anxious to get a front seat for this gig
I’d been hanging around for ages
Made friends with all the available bar staff
While drinking away all my wages.

Got my usual spot: centre left of the front row
And above the din of a settling crowd I met,
‘Alex’ who, proclaiming himself a poetry virgin
had only popped in to avoid getting wet.

While the rain drizzled outside, I filled ‘Alex’ in;
“This guy’s a legend, think Cooper-Clarke minus the punk”
I may have burbled on further, but who’s to know
After all, I was drunk.

Luke’s last show was so bright and light hearted
But this was so much darker, so brutally honest
I didn’t have long before my prickling eyelids started
to drip.

Maybe it was the weather, or perhaps it was the wine
but I’d been feeling pretty weepy all day.
I don’t wanna be a ‘star’. I just want to be talented.
To make words rhyme and to avoid cliché.

Brushing the falling drops away,
I attempted an honest grin.
The effect was somewhat ruined though,
by the snot running down my chin.

By the time the poem had ended
My tears had finally taken their leave
So all that remains of my irrational response
is one black smear on one grey sleeve.


Wednesday, 26 August 2009

You Will Never Touch My Sister Again.



I don’t care what lies you told the police
What half truths you disguised to get released.

I don’t care that Mum welcomed back into our home
That your punishment was a new mobile phone.

I don’t care that her disability means she doesn’t understand
That she doesn’t know the seriousness of where you put your filthy hands.

I don’t care that everyone believed she led you on
Because there’s no way mummy’s little boy would be in the wrong.

I don’t care that every minute of every stinking day
I get flashbacks, your bodies contorted in new disgusting ways.

It was worth any pain that I may have endured
That my baby sister’s safety will always be ensured.

Everyone else has believed your twisted fucked up lies,
But I will be here, watching you, until the day I die.

Lovely People

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