Monday hits you with the force of a runaway train,
Tuesday you get up only to be crushed back down again,
Wednesday starts quietly then sneakily stabs you in the back,
Thursday feels like a full-blown heart attack,
Friday you crawl towards the light at the tunnels end,
Saturday you let your broken brain try to mend,
Sunday you brace yourself for it to start all over again.
I met a homeless man while I walked home through town last week,
I listened while he told me of his daily struggle to survive on the street.
I heard how he lost his job, his house, his family and his dignity,
Now he’s just one more lost soul in this soulless city.
He said he didn’t know any easy fix or change this country could try,
And as I parted company with him I realised that neither did I.
Hand in hand you eagerly led me to
love’s cliff edge.
Where I instantly fell for you…
Or was I pushed?
Under his jacket he always has holstered
two poetry books loaded with verse.
Then at high noon
or whenever he fancies,
he fires from the lips,
quick draw poetry.
With rhyme in his heart, nothing stands in his way.
It’s not just you
There are many who can help.
No one is alone.
I know a lot of people affected by mental health issues including myself, support is always available, if you need help start by clicking here or talking to someone you trust.
I was never really keen about science at school,
until that day my mate on an idiotic dare
ate some copper sulphate and puked blue bile.
Briefly my interest in science grew,
until I discovered that to be a good scientist,
you also really needed to be good at mathematics.
I was never really keen on poetry at school,
until that day to impress a girl I wrote a poem
and was made to read it out to the whole class.
Briefly my interest in poetry grew,
until my friends that lunchtime,
kicked the sense back into me.
Many years ago I made a foolish promise,
it consisted of five simple words.
” I will always love you.”
You took my promise and
reminded me of it every day,
until my fragile hope
became iron in your grip.
Five iron words.
Five iron nails you drive slowly
into my heart each day.
Five words you engraved
on every link of the chain
that binds me to you.
He was an absolutely avid collector
of the lost toys of his childhood he remembered.
Filling his cupboard and attic with his finds.
She was a teacher who loved to impart
the songs of the Beatles she knew by heart.
Singing lustily in traffic jams to pass her time.
He was smitten by her singing,
She adored the fact he was a nostalgia geek.
But though they passed on the stairs each day at work,
neither ever found the nerve to catch the others eye and speak.
She will break your heart using just an old guitar
Bared tattooed arms display her story in scars.
Fixing the audience with her passionate stare
A dark shadow under the spotlight’s glare.
She’s Shirley Manson, Brix, Joan,
Kim Deal, Kristin Hersch and Nina Simone.
She’s Courtney when she loved heroin and Kurt,
Plus Tori trapped in a quirky world of hurt.
She’s the lipstick on a cigarette stub,
No one knows how she survived her invite to the 27 club.
She’s a fallen angel who chain sawed off her wings,
Shining like a dying star when she sings.
There’s unanswered texts on a phone
A discarded present under the TV
A drained bottle of vodka
Bruises inflicted where the family can’t see.
There’s an engagement ring dropped on the carpet
Torn up wedding invites on the floor.
Spilled tablets around the sink
No answer to urgent knocks at the door.
There’s an unopened Valentine’s card on the doormat
Tear stains on Sunday best clothes.
A body sprawled on the floor
A pale lifeless hand on a red rose.