Monthly Archives: June 2017

Delusions And Coping Mechanisms (Poem)

I’ve not been really sleeping, I actually smell burning,

I scream myself awake, should I prepare my own wake,

Are these thoughts merely intrusive or are they clues to my fate.

I keep picturing Grenfell, I smell the flames I hear the screams.

I’m petrified, sincerely I am mortified, so many died, I want to trade my life,

For one of theirs, one of those dead bodies crumpled on the stairs.


I don’t get it, I don’t get it I don’t get it.

I cry inside, all the fear I hide,

Kids just keep on living, I keep on seeing death,

I goad it, come for me, or give me peace please!

Check the fire alarm, check that unheard noise check the smell.

All is not well, but what? I cant really tell, I’m too tired for this!


I’m cognitively malfunctioning, I’m existing, not living!

These delusions and distortions, override my depression.

It’s a really amazingly crazy, Automatic mental coping mechanism!

Just don’t mention her, don’t give that hurt your attention.

Here is fire, here is suffocation, here is failure here is not emptiness.

Fear is not the thing that brings pain, reality and the mundane invite the empty,

Caress the nothingness, fall into your broken heart, again I fall apart!

My Burning Future

I want to Make plans. I want to feel like, it is worth making plans.

I want to make a fucking album I want to feel worth the effort.

Publish these shitty lines about these fucked up feelings.

I want it to be worth your time, is any of this worth my time.


I don’t want this to seem gimmicky, I really do want to die.

That seems way too dramatic, so I’ll say I really don’t want to live.

I don’t want to scare anyone, this is just a poem, these are just my feelings.

I know you love me, I just cant feel it, I love you, I hope you can see it.

I know you say, I have so much to offer, but its down to me to believe it!


You want me to stay, because my death would kill you!

I think about leaving, because life is killing me.

I’m suffocating in all I cant be, I wish I could make you see.

I’m drowning in my mind, engulfed in flames from my burning future!

Just Make Me Cry (Poem)


How am I supposed to move on? when I don’t know, what

I’m supposed to be moving on, from. I still don’t understand!

How can you be so sure, then so sure.

Did you ever love me? Just tell me!


You made me feel so alive, now you really do make me want to die!

There I go, being unstable, don’t make me laugh, just make me cry!

Why are we even “friends” its not like your checking in, is it to appear caring?

If I start telling you, my suicidal obsessions, you’ll avoid me, stop pretending.

I’m sorry if you feel attacked, this is not about that. This is all I have,

this and a death wish, I’m all black and bleak, it never goes.

I’m alive but I cant feel it, I want to give it away. I just cant be happy!


Can I be done now? Can you let me go now?

I’m trying to do everything right and I’m still feeling so wrong!

I don’t think I’ll ever be able, to let her go, that’s why I really want to go.

Just to let you know, this isn’t actually personal.

I love you, I don’t want to hurt you!

I just don’t belong , in a place where I’m never happy.

Life just feels too much, love just hurts too much.

I keep trying to convince people I’m not as strong as they want me to believe!

Art Is Art (Poem)

I’m finding myself really busy, man I’m loving it!

Bouncing from idea to idea, this new place I love it,

All this busyness helps me forget that I’m lost inside.

I hide between beats and words, from the things you already know!

I cant be in love but I can feel love, I cant forget but I can distract…


I’m good at what I know, but I’m not good enough for myself.

Fuck it though, I do it anyway, I do it because I am believed in.

Music is music, art is art, mine may be digitized, as a result unrealised.

People think I rely too much on my laptop,

Wouldn’t you, if you were me,

this is my guitar, this is my vocal booth, this is my writers room.

I was never taught a single note at first,

was never encouraged to write a single line.

But here I am and there you are!


What I do, is all I know how to,

I exploit all the shit inside.

Put it front and centre of the things I make.

My way of not feeling so alone.

My way of conveying the me, that cant easily bee seen!

Unsorted Memories #1

One of my first memories is my brother being told,

By a complete stranger, that they were going to put his brother in a coma.

Simply because I was me! ok they were kids but I remember more,

we were just walking home, and on that same journey, more kids more mockery.

I could tell this hurt, not just me, my brother too,

these kids were cold. The world was cold.


Years later, I found metal, started seeing dad, he showed me,

Pantera and Korn, my dad looked crazy, he looked different. He was weird.

Jonathan, screamed about the kids that hurt him,

He cried he was in this world and didn’t know why.

With dreads with pain, he was different.


When jake was a kid, a part from the times he’d bite my knees,

We were best friends, he wanted to see me, even though I was weird.

I taught him to sing, along to slipknot and Korn.

I still remember crying when I accidently poked him in the eye.


Memories good, are played with the sound down,

memories bad are played in surround sound,

I guess that from the above and increasingly true more recently I’ve learned

I belong with weirdo’s, they love me, even if I don’t believe that I should be!  

I Dance With Corpses (Poem)

Do I write a poem, do I compose a beat?

Why is it always this way, in the hour before sleep?

Bombarded with half choices from distorted voices.

Write cause its all I’m worth, compose cause we don’t cry.


I hope I sleep, I want to sleep, but I keep,

Waking and when I’m waking, I’m screaming and shaking!

It doesn’t matter how well I’m doing, panic and fear are parts of me.

Even happiness scares me, it cant be enjoyed fully.

I don’t understand, how to be, I get too carried away,

Then I crash, I crash so very hard… help!

I hate being this way, I hate feeling this way,

I must seem so ungrateful, I really love all of you. I really do.


When I create, all the dead inside, comes alive.

I dance with corpses, I embrace all the unsaid.

It will never be enough, it will always be inside,

I never even try to hide, and this is the only way I fight!

Ego, More Than a Place (Poem)

Gratitude. More than a place, more than a thing I do.

When I started, I didn’t get it, I just wanted to do music,

I almost left, I was too shy, me act? I’m not that type of guy.

I would hide in my shell, didn’t really want to show myself,

You pushed me, you for some reason trust me.


Ego isn’t an activity to me, it’s a community.

A community as diverse as it is accepting.

I cant grasp who I am, but I know I belong here.

Ego is quickly becoming family, my Coventry family, actually.

Cause you were there! no reason to be, you just wanted to help me.

Its not just me, I’m one of many. Caring is just part of ego’s structure.

This place feels more than I can say,


Whatever it is it’s infectious, cause I just want to help. Tell me how can I help!

Here is a place where I feel its okay not to be “good enough”.

If you try enough, care enough and love enough than you are enough!

Some things and experiences are worth more than money.

And ego for me is worth more than the 1.1 million we need.

It has given so much to this city and its people, it deserves to succeed!    

Do You Understand? (Poem)


I want to be, the me inside, on the out.

I want to, talk to you, will you listen?

I don’t want you to feel bad, so I’ll just smile.

In between my vocal self, and my written self.

Is everything that gets missing, my personality lost in translation.


I hate the way, my body expresses everything,

I want to be able to hide my excitement, so I remain silent.

I cant vocalise, anything that makes me passionate, so my speech I ration it.

If my poetry was done in one take, no-one would understand it.

In the real world, I don’t get multiple takes, we all have lives to live.


I would love to get rid of this, frustration and anger.

I would love to scream all of this clearly.

Would love to have some control, over my emotions when I show them.

How am I supposed to love or even expect to accept myself,

When what I am is freely used as a derogatory slur by members of my family!

“spaka” to me means owning it, to me means disabled, to me means me.

How do I have that conversation, when I say spaka, I mean disabled,

But others close to me, use that word to mean bad.

Somewhere it crossed a line, between funny to fucking painful.

I know there is innocence, I know its mostly ignorance, rarely intended to hurt.


Its not that I’m too sensitive, I understand your perspective.

This word is used by me freely, and your family so you are on my side.

The word isn’t the issue, its how its used and in what tone.

I would rather you call a disabled person a spaka,

Than hear it used to insult your dumb friend, or to brand someone ugly.

Excuse the tangent, this was suppose to be about me sounding like a spaka,

you can’t understand, do you understand?          

It Was Mine, Just Mine (Poem)

I still want to tell you how beautiful you are,

I still want you to know how Amazing I think you are.

I still want to be yours, I love every inch of you.

I was senselessly happy, when we were.

A whole different level of elation, manically happy.

How do you expect me to adjust from that,

No choice in this I just have to, cause I cant have you!


I feel like I keep writing the same poem,

I know I keep thinking the same thoughts,

I keep ignoring the same feelings.

I love you, I fear I always will.

I want you, I always have and always will.    


I’m not going to apologise for a mess, that I didn’t make,

I’m not going to, act like you were nothing, the way you seem to.

I know how much that hurts, emotions I feel them all, I cannot fake.

No matter how much you hurt me, no matter the pain you caused,

I still want you so bad, I understand, I know, you I cannot have.

Our future, our happiness, was never ours, it was mine, just mine.

Now its all gone, I have to write new songs, I have to watch you move on.

Love Is a Bitch (Poem)

I don’t want to face my feelings, I don’t want to face facts.

That she doesn’t love me, what we had was imaginary.

All of this still kills me, evidently, apparently I don’t deserve closure, do I want it?

Every hope I had, all the plans I thought we had, are mocking me, am I a mockery?

I wanted everything with her, everything was her.

She wants nothing with me, and I was nothing to her.


I have all this love to give!

I want to be loved again, I want to feel something again.

I mentally label our memories as intrusive thoughts.

They pop up, I block them out, like thoughts of fire, or dying family members.

But these thoughts don’t cease, my compulsive thought is to reach out.

Beg for her back, I can make her love me, I can make her see, I can’t just let it be.


When I put a gun to my head, she ignored it, like she didn’t care if I was dead.

When I displayed my pain to her, she turned me away,

reminded me of my brokenness,

left me to deal with my mess,

she couldn’t care less, this love is a bitch,

I cant even pretend to even dislike her, I really want to hate her, but I can’t.

I don’t want to let go, she was the only thing I was holding onto,

If I let go, I will fall to my death, they tell me, that’s a bad thing.