(For the beautiful Miss S., and all of us who are trying to find our way.) 


Remember when your name was a prayer on my lips?

I screamed it in ecstasy

I cried it in despair.

I whispered it hopefully in the dead of night. 

Remember when my prayers were answered because there was you and I believed? 

Remember when your body was the temple I worshipped at?

Your thoughts were the the scripture I committed to my memory and learnt off by heart.

All your rituals and all your ways.

The infinitesimal things that made you so much more than the sum of your parts. 

You were my religion, the one true path to paradise and my heart sang, full of hymns to you. 

I kept the faith. 

Who knew that the baptism of fire would come at the end? 

Now I hope that like a pheonix I will be reborn.

Find within a sanctuary, be my own refuge.

Because all I have left to believe in is me.

But I haven’t practised in a while. 



Antilamentation | Dorianne Laux


(Thought this was cool; wanted to share it. )

Antilamentation| Dorianne Laux

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

More than words.

Dear Interwebs,

I am cheating with today’s post.  There are three reasons for this. 1. People are falling over themselves to be genuinely supportive and helpful; ungrateful (undeserving) wretch that I am it is making me antsy. 2. Baby Daddy’s psuedo-helpfulness is making me want to punch him in his passive aggressive face. While I am happy to take refuge here while I unclench my teeth the above is about as far as I feel like exploring those subjects at this time. Which leads me to my third reason for cheating on today’s post. 3. I have been plundering the internet for poetry and found comfort in the words of others. In the interests of fair and equal exchange I’m going to leave some of my poetry here, for others to find. So, I am cheating because this entry will consist in the main of stuff I’ve written before, copied and pasted here. Forgive me? Or not. Or think I’m crap? Whevs (as Tired Dad  likes to say). If you’ve a thought or an opinion or a poem you’d like to share then leave me a comment. Go ahead, make my day.


So awake. So awake. so awake.

So tired of the whirling thoughts.

The non-stop shaking.

The aching head.

The aching heart.

The pain, the pain.

My whole body hurts.

The tightness, the tautness.

From holding myself together on the outside while the inside splinters into a million brittle little pieces. And I know I am Humpty Dumpty, while everyone looks to me to be the King’s horses and King’s men. And I try to avoid the news of the earthquake because all I can think of is the ’89 earthquake and Sam in her cot and me in my bed, woken by the tremors and scared and alone and my earth is still quaking and I am still alone while my children lie sleeping and selfishly, monstrously, all I feel for the fallen is envy.

They fight no more. They sleep.


Caught in the slipstream between living and dead

Trying to stay upright, stumbling along

My limbs heavy, my breath shallow

I reach for the dead, their familiar embrace

My fingers fall through them and I am left empty and alone

Glancing towards the living, I shrink from their laughter

Their loudness, their life

It comes hurtling towards me like poisoned darts

Piercing my skin and making me bleed.

Untitled and undated

You pull me up and whirl me round

Spinning, soaring, sighing

Weightless, formless, fearless

All other bearings gone

But you, my true North

You shake me up like cheap champagne

I shoot towards the sky

And I am in a million pieces

Like rose petals on the wind

Like confetti on a wedding day

Like softly falling snow flakes

And you open your mouth

And catch me

And I dissolve on your tongue

What becomes of the Broken Hearted?

The Walking Wounded,

The Living Dead,

Walking on the Wild Side,

Living on the Edge,

Out on a Limb,

No turning Back.

Comfortably Numb,

Fading to Black.


Come dance with me in the darkness

Come take my hand and spin

I know you know the steps

And the tune that reels you in

Come dance with me in the darkness

To the beating of your heart

Pull the shadows close around us

And hear the whispers start

Come dance with me in the darkness

Let the rhythm set you free

In the deep dark inky blackness

Where the blind can see


No chance not taken

No song unsung

No word unspoken

No act not done

My love given

My fears faced

My dreams followed

My trust placed

My mind open

My spirit free

My life lived

Without apology


If all the King’s horses

And all the King’s men

Can’t put me back together again


That leaves me

With little artistry

In charge of what I’ll be

I look in the mirror and see

Frankenstein’s monster

My heart on my sleeve

Battered, broken, beating

Haunted, hollow eyes

Window to the soulless

My finger traces my reflection

Seaching for familiar

Finding no purchase

If all the King’s horses

And all the King’s men

Can’t put me back together again


I try to salvage

From the wreckage

The bits and pieces

The odds and ends

The jagged edges

And shape them into

Something new

So maybe I can be

A mosaic me.


Freddy Krueger nightmares chase me in my sleep

And cut me deep

And I bleed

And I bleed

I wrench myself to waking

To my reality

THIS is reality?

And I bleed

And I bleed

Out damned spot! Out I say!

And I bleed

And I bleed

Unconscious mind bleeds into consciousness

Past bleeds into present

Like a psychic hemophilia

Still I bleed


I pass faded, washed out people

And I think:

Paint me in Yellow; sunshine and laughter,

Paint me in Orange; sunrise, sunset,

Paint me in Pink; babies and blushes,

Paint me in Red; wild anger and roses,

Paint me in Blue; oceans and skies,

Paint me in Purple; truth, trust, regret,

Paint me in White; searing, blinding passion,

Paint me in Black; the deepest night, the darkest hour,

And my jagged edge will be a prism, reflecting rainbows,

Because I will not stand in the shadows,

I will not live in shades of grey.


In the slipstream of a semi screaming past

On highways edge


On city streets, in midnight hours

A strangers smile


In velvet fur, and chocolate eyes

Heavy head in lap


In music blared, lyrics known

Familiar rhythms


In words and pictures

One step removed


In biting needle and staining ink

An artist’s work


In turgid flesh and catching breath

I disappear



Oh and guys, this is all my own original work. Please don’t steal it. If you’d like to use it somewhere then let me know. Thanks!