Monday, 29 April 2013


She counts, slowly.
1, 2, 3...
She writes the figure down;
It amounts to 20.

She counts, unsure.
5, 10, 15.
She swallows the number down,
And waves goodbye to the pristine.

She stays unconscious,
10, 20, 30.
Until they resuscitate her.
She cries when she wakes up.

She's put into therapy,
1, 2, 3.
But nothing helps,
Not the chemicals nor being free.

She writes a facebook status
That everyone thinks is inspirational.
"Breaking old records, reaching new heights."
That night, she jumped.

Saturday, 27 April 2013

Sonnet 5

I want to close my eyes and vanish, flee
to Nowhereland- there I will find nothing
at all. No thoughts, nor light, nor stimuli
infect my precious Nowhereland. I wring
and thrash against my earthly binding chains,
but they grasp tightly at me. As I try
to run, my scream for Nowhereland sustains
and echoes all around. I must defy
the torturous powers telling me to stay
outside of Nowhereland, the only home
that I have never known. And yet I feel
I’m lost and left here in this world, alone.
My ideal Nowhereland, you must be strong;
for I’ll reach you so soon, I’ll stay so long.

Thursday, 25 April 2013

Sonnet 4

Inspired by school, lack of sleep, shitty people, annoying thoughts, etcetera.

Sonnet 4

ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh,
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh, ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh;
ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh - ugh.
ugh ugh! ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh ugh,

ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh-ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh,
ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh! ugh ugh ugh,
ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh!
ugh ugh - ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh?

ugh, ugh! ugh - ugh ugh ugh. ugh ugh ugh ugh.
(ugh ugh ugh ugh) ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.
ugh ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh, ugh ugh ugh.

ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh;
ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Sunday, 21 April 2013

Haiku.. Cinquain... etc?

I said to him;
"Madam," he spoke to me,
"Mayn't I have this dance with you?"
"You may."

Oh, pitiless mind,
Can you not leave me to sleep?
No! you have to write!

If I said, "Hello,"
Would you really say "Goodbye"?
Don't leave me behind!

If I were the ground,
You would be the bright green grass
Growing on top.

And were I the grass,
You'd be the crimson flower
Dancing in the breeze.

May the victory bell be heard;
May the slave cast off his binds;
May then joy ring loud and clear,
Diminishing the darkest minds.

I sit and must write;
The ones in my mind call out
Begging for a world.

Sounds in the night
Waking me with lightening;
Amazing me with power and

One of the few
Brightest lightbulbs ever
Creating as no one before
Has done.

She's truly one
Soaring through the grey skies
Flying in the great, blue downpour,

Monday, 8 April 2013

Haiku and Cinquain dump

It's when the moon shines,
Everything is dark and still,
But your mind runs wild.

I saw a shadow:
It danced and wove on the earth,
Laughing at sunlight.

There were small, bright lights;
I thought I saw small, bright lights,
But no- they were eyes.

Ok, the next one isn't actually a haiku. It's two and two-thirds haikus squashed together... But still.
I saw in a dream
A strange dystopian earth
Where monsters are real
And man has no worth;
The sky burns like acid
And falling rain stings;
Everything's rancid
On that strange dystopian earth.

What color's the sun-
Shiny and molten above?
Rainbow's seven hues.

There was
A star above,
Shining on Bethleham
Leading the wisemen to Jesus
Through night.

If I
Could have a wish,
I'd wish God be with you!-
Saving your soul forevermore
With love.

Saturday, 6 April 2013


She paints a pretty picture,
But the picture has a twist.
Her paintbrush was a razor,
Her canvas was her wrist.

She paints a pretty picture,
In a colour that's blood red,
While using her sharp paintbrush,
She ends up, finally, dead.

Her pretty picture's fading,
Quite slowly on her arm.
The blood's no longer flowing,
She can no longer do harm.

She painted a pretty picture,
But her picture had a twist.
Her mind was her razor,
And her heart was her wrist.

Monday, 1 April 2013


A/N This is a delayed poem from disappointment from... Lots of times in real life and still no particular time at all. I've just know what it feels like when someone disappoints you, and somehow, this came out of it the other day.

It's like a bad dream you don't quite believe:
A shroud, a heavy, dark cloak that drips
Down from your shoulders to
Your heart and defiant

It's like a pitiless joke you ignore and refuse to receive:
A highwayman who stops your carriage
To take from you your mother's ring,
Your father's precious, golden

It's a sense similar to betrayal, a feeling you can't quite relieve;
The thought that nothing you ever knew was real
And all the lies and bad things will go away
If you can just awake from this horrible

It's someone you thought known, turned to a selfish fiend;
All you want to do is rouse yourself,
But instead, all you ever do
Is pretend is never even