I could feel him smirk when he asked for our demands
For weeks we had been solid holding hands
On the steps restricting entrance to the halls
Protesting injustice with chants and calls

He looked proud of himself, held him in rather high regard
We looked at each other and held hands tighter
Lost together we’d found purpose in a cause higher
What did it matter we could not justify lofty ideals to a security guard

Time passed as I began to shake myself
The cold breeze had come and I’d remembered to shave myself
Like methyl gripping me as my odour filled around
I was perspirating like I’d been running around

I couldn’t say it because it would be over
I didn’t know why I was there to start with
Freedom was why I’d held hands but now I wondered if it was the core of my logic like a pith
He’d had cheap gloves and a comb over

My logic had more holes than his winter jacket
And I stood there getting colder
He must have seen a lot of hope as he got older
My mind was clear finally and I knew what I wanted was a jacket

For my friends and for my enemies
For peace I’m willing to get frostbite
If wars end in a fortnight
If calm was over everyone like they’d eaten some nice cheese


Worthy was he with hair so blonde
With strapping boots and a cape
A well shaven man, a strong God
Lover of many ladies and few capes

Could mete out justice on evil
But could not contend with own issues
Pride and wanderlust and tired drivel
Of fair lady Vikings and issues

Cast from his place in line
Wiped memory in a useless body
Was thought to be normal or fine
But upon recollection of lost time a man crazy

Met a doctor who showed him that powers do not make a hero
Thought love was respect as they tried to force fate
Left a lady warrior and enchantress seething with hate
When doubt on moon came, became unworthy, became zero

Beard worn fighting Viking
Striving to be worthy of more than Janbjorn
Had seen dead Gods and his future was set but struggled with living
Was at a loss for strength while torn

Unmarked Dead

You leave your dead unmarked
Like it was a crime they were born
Was getting a tombstone hard
Must have unjustly implied scorn

Your life scattered to the Gale forces
Your seed on the new sheets
You pull out to minimise your losses
It’s not your hunger when she feeds

Broken shards of what you thought you would be
Once were shouts but now whispers of Destiny
Yours is a seeming unending tragedy
You still need glasses to see

When you were still you could think
Leave the world behind and try again
After many failures you resented it all even the rain
Now you’re still and you can’t think

Life’s a struggle, you knew well
Started with a new product that didn’t sell
Was hoping for difference in your future
But all your accounts were a difference in your future

Insecure Context

I found my words lacking, my face was not as expressive as I wished.

My delivery was dry, my hair flailing my confidence waning.

Of all the trials I’ve bested this was a new strange.

An anomaly on the elevated life stage.

You see there was a beautiful female who I’d begun talking with.

Her countenance was shy so I didn’t need to be guarded instead.

I stayed as long as I could and was utterly captivated.

I was caught up in our talks when I remembered.

They came pouring like a stream:

All my flaws all at once
I was short and pudgy
I was not conventionally funny
I was an addict once

I had failed at almost everything I tried
She was successful and was probably tired
Of seeing flailing corpses be charming
Sometimes when its cold my features can look more alarming

I walked like I kicked a stone every step
I run like a vat of jello on the highway
I don’t eat a lot so my body conserves
I then over eat and add to my fatty reserves

I hide affection for people because it seems weird to be honest
I only care about my family
I have few friends to speak of when I’m honest
I get honest without alcohol inside of me

They came pouring and the situation changed
Because I could not now have a talk with her
I’d have to leave as soon as she had left I bailed
I’d rather forget my face at a bar


Life imitates art so I did not draw
Upon my past to look forward
Towards a tragic lifeless living
I’ll be an older man still unbelieving

Nectar is for the buzzing bees
I spit fire at giants resulting in scalded knees
My eyes are tired but my body hibernating
Should have spent less time looking and more time waiting

Hope comes from a well I don’t wanna dig up
I’d rather shovel toward the inevitable things
So I’m a dig a grave all of five feet deep
Because it’s not about room it’s bout if the smell will keep

Shame was like a spell ever looming

Cycle of Tears

I painted still life with water colour
When I was a little boy
I sought approval from mother for colours
When I had no little toys

Sight kindly gave as I grew older
My age waned as I was less sober
What tiny lies we say to smile
That the moon is cheesy and life’s a few hundred miles

My heart has grown weary from lack
But I don’t care enough to bring it back
I stabbed many sides of many friends
My luck failed every morning to meet my end

I’m tired of trying and failing at every instance
Even ending it all faces resistance
Like I look in the mirror and he tells me to stay
But what good can I lend when I’ve always stalked prey

Put me out to pasture please end my existence
I could pay you even to start the proceedings
I’m guilty of all my wrong can you hear me now
Ghosts still don’t care that I’m a criminal

What great invention did I originate before my age of disappointment
What great plans did I appreciate before my solitary confinement
Was wasted potential put my energy to waste
Was tired individual did nothing with haste


I heard from folks who have lives and they seem to be interested and involved in a lot of things. I have not been fortunate enough to seek a life for myself while I’ve been engaged in conversations with these folks because it was always a distracting note on which discussions hinged.
I tried to get myself interested in normal things. I already liked comic book media and sci-fi but had no affinity for broader ranged activities. This bothered me immensely and so I decided to start smoking regularly at a scheduled time. The idea was that if I could institute some regimen in my routine, I would become an interesting person. This did not turn out to be the case eventually but I digress. I bought a pack of cigarettes from my local Sainsbury store which was about six pounds. I bought a lighter as well to complete the package. It was then that I walked to my university in the cold of the early year to smoke on the roof. I wasn’t sure where that was so I decided to forgo that and smoke in front of the building.
It must have been a sight too, a slightly overweight eighteen year old shivering while trying to smoke like logan. I then trashed the butt and headed home, with the happiness of addicting yourself to something that will kill you.
While on the subject I recall my first encounter with smoking. I went to clubs when I was younger with the rules of my parents ‘don’t smoke or drink’ which I stuck too. Until I saw one of my friends attract a female with his puff and smoke wiles. I thought to myself that was a key to ladies, look cool smoking and they’ll be all over you or one will pretend that you exist. So I on one boring night bought a packet to smoke, I smoked nine of the cigarettes in one night. It was a steep learning curve for me, I’d seen others smoke so I emulated their method. When I inhaled that horrid smoke in my lungs and expelled it, I did not cough or wince but blew through like a professional. It was a proud moment in my short uneventful life but it was worth it.

Now I smoke like two packets a year and call myself an occasional smoker. Occasional less like every two months and more like only at events.

Tales. The art of telling tales. The poet's mind.