My Job.

Quivers and droops
On the sterilised table.
Poor thing in abject misery.

It's truck smashed ribcage
Falls and rises shallowly
Beneath your sweaty hands.

Snip away that patch of hair.
Sad eyes meet yours, look away.
Push the needle beneath the skin.

Push the plunger to end misery.
Small cry as legs buckle, sinks
Onto the table top, eyes glazed.

Upset at the death my hand has caused.
But I have to do this many more times.
Ahh well, life goes on...

For me.

MindMaker

I can't make up my mind. I made another blog, but I don't know what to do with it. It's not an easy choice for me. I made another one to stop the people I know from reading it. It was a thingy to sort of protect myself from others opinions, and to stop people from knowing more about me personally I suppose. My blog has done good in the two odd months I've had it, but it has also done a few, er, not so good stuff. My poetry was exclusively personal, and maybe I should return to that.
This new blog. Deleted. All or nothing, and I picked nothing.

Thoughts Today

Back away
Leave it lay.

Take the Rain.
It is your name.

Use it well,
Or it will be stolen.

Exausted and tired
This blog is expired.

Behind closed doors
Defiled laws
Cold floors
Hidden smiles of greed wake.

I think I might give my blog a bit of a break... an extended break. I dunno why, for some reason when i get onto my blog I feel depressed. I might just leave it now. I looked at my poetry book from a long time ago, and actually i feel like i haven't improved at all. I feel shamed as i flick through others blogs, and I've been going longer than they have. Also i find that my poetry gets in the way of other things, like homework.
I guess i need to find another way to vent frustration.

Tips to Trip

Wade through the melted woods of emotion
To reach the shining prize of secret.

Warped and twisted is the bittersweet forest
Of all she holds in her dream.

Don't bring a machete, the more you cut
The faster it grows back.

Don't hack through, slip past. Take none of that
Bold front nonsense.

I'll give you a tip. She's a fake, challenge her
And she's gone.

Use your eyes. Watch for the Rain, then make
Your move.

Hidden Loans

Slops against the side of the bucket
He wont be trusted
Though he says he loves you
He's rough.

Gives away his trade
With his peace offering.
You take it out of pressure
You're hooked.

He's not right.
Your not right.
Together, not right.
End it.

Shakes with anger
Not his own body.
Demands it all back
And more.

"Go home and cry!"
So I do, knees to chest
Bogged down in debt
I cannot return.

There's no such thing as a free gift
So I guess I have to pay.

And the Convo Was

She came out of the washing machine giggly clean!

What waxes, but has no hair?

Exhaustion runs deep
Poured out in lumps
Like the blood that flows
Through soggy veins.

Turns slowly, congealing
Or leaking out
Through slits or cracks
Not meant to be there.

Oozes past wasting muscle
Acidic from under use.
Through the heart fuzzily beating
It's strenth nearly spent.

I think my blog is too serious. I might do sommat about that. I'm always complaining that others are far too serious, and yet, I'm really no better.

Buttom Splodge Knigget

Splosh Fossick Curry

Squishy Blob Splat

Sussuruss Zonk Socks

Plurp Purr Donk

Blubber Warthog Scatter

Flop Lolly Baboon...

I few 'words' that I have choson that I like the sound of... basically cos they sound silly.

That's me being me.

There is a word,
Even the brave fear...

Neh!

Shot his mouth off.
Gave her the hint
That she took with both hands.
A powerful weapon
To use against them.
Destroy the earth!
Pulverise all!

I think not...

Watching her now,
I realise what I've done.
Gone and planted
Doubt in her heart.

Now she struggles
When help is needed most,
She can't find it
Up above.

Made my decision,
Not her own.
She's now lost,
Or less found.

"Change your way
And live my girl.
Don't you worry bout me.
I'm a lost cause.

But you! You have hope.
Don't throw it away.
Keep it, treasure it,
Share it, believe it."

When she reaches the pearly gates,
Will they let her in?

Dark and damp.
Foot on the floor.
Draw it back.

Honest fears.
Defiled tears.
Unawares.

Light the lamp.
Open the door.
Get on track.

He will care.
Open his ear.
All made clear.

She did it anyway, despite the trouble.
She got gum and blew a bubble.
It was bigger than a dog.
And also bigger than a frog
And it can be often seen in smog,
lIke more babies from the stalk...
Stop it Kerryn!

"Can I
Do you
A favour?

Can I
Help you
With that?"

"Can you
Please just
Piss off?

Can you
Stop it and
Let me rest?"

"Ha ha.
Your funny.
I'll help.

Here's my
Comment on
Your life."

"Oh yup.
That's nice.
But I

Don't need
You or
Your help."

"Too bad.
I'm here
To stay.

I am you.
You can't be
Rid of me."

"Wanna bet?
Bring it on.
I got sommat
A Rottweiler.
You got nothing.
Leave me now
And I wont
Set him loose
On your own
Sick little mind!"

Sorry mams.

With those eyes that stare right through
He'll reprove you.
He taps with on the desk of impatience,
But I'm in that mood.
I wont be able to look at him for long,
Cos I'm wrong.

Cry on my shoulder.
It will be ok, I'm here.
I wont let you fall.

Pain.
So strong
Overwhelming
Bigger than me.

But,
Remember
There are people
Far worse off than me.

Smile.
Face the new day.
It's problems to solve,
It's joys to unfold.
Breathe in, and out.

Never 'forget' to breathe.
Put your head down,
Pull into the harness
With all your weight.
You can pull up that hill
Even with that load.

She'll help you.
The push from behind.

He picks up a rope
And pulls with all his might.

You feel yourself going up
Up towards peace and light.

Things will sort themselves out,
Weaving and working
Behind the scenes.

I love you Sophie.
I love you Courtenay.
I understand your pain.

There is a bigger force at work here.

Psalm 34: 18.
"The Lord is near to the broken hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Remember Him.

The three tortured souls
That sit on the floor

Clasp hands.

And send up a prayer
To the One for help

We plead.

My Worst Fear

Clip clopping on the gray.
The usual, no different.

Choking and guttering.
Disturbing and loud.

They collide with a crack.

Throw your anchor into the sea
And hope it will hold.
You probably wont catch anything
Except maybe a cold.

Sit in the shadow and don't talk.
Make yourself scarce.
Don't make friends you cannot leave.
Don't make it harder than it has to be.
And always, always remember,
You are not one of them.

Who is Happiness?
Where has he been?
Where is he going?
I wish I could follow.

Fingers, that do not touch.
Nose, that will not smell.
Ears, that will not hear.
Tongue, that will not taste.
But the eyes, the eyes
See all.

Not worthy to tie his shoe, or see his face.
I'm worth nothing, bogged down in disgrace.

I'm covered in grime, dirt and shit
As I tell him I want none of it.

Repulsive ans ugly, demanding and sick
Loosing but fighting the current of Styx.

I wish I could take that One Big Leap
I wish I climb That Hill, so steep.

To follow that King, the One so strong
Being apart, it feels so wrong.

But this shit I'm up to my neck in
Against it I feel I just cant win.
I'm in the freezing water, and I can't swim,
Against the current of Dis and sin.
Help, please.

I'm sick to death of playing pretend
And I cant help but wonder how this will end.

You cannot catch me.
I'm too small.
Slip through your fingers
Like smoke on the wind.

By the way, these poems I either wrote in class or at camp. It's amazing how inspirational a group of dog-tired grumpy smelly people can be, especially if you don't know most of them. At camp, I wrote less poetry than I would normally, but they were better poems, and they dove deep into the heart of many things; so deep I cant post them here for fear of what he'll say. Anyway, yea, that's what these last seven poems were about.
The dirty dishes one i think will confuse a lot of people, but it's funny, I wrote it during a meal time, and was struggling to find a line that i could conclude the poem with. I couldn't find anything that would fit. Someone leaned over to me to take my bowl, and them said really clearly, "You can put your dirty dishes in here..." I dunno, it just was there when i needed sommat. And i think it worked with the topic anyway.
Feel free to tell me that it's shit.

Round and round
So strong, and ready
To abuse it's power.

And they say nothing.

It hits hard
And many fall
Along with homes
And family.

And they still wont.

Many missing
More dead.
And those who survived
Starve as they plead.
But no,

They still shake their heads.

How can you watch them suffer?
Your people starve on a diet
Of force-fed pride.
You're killing them.

This is not my pen.
Not the tool of crap
That shows no talent.

This is the weapon
Shakespeare was proud of.
It has written (with it's hand)
Tales deep and full,
Poetry I will never write,
Stories I will never tell.

This is Matthew's pen,
The pen of talent.
Ink about to be 'spilled'
With care and feeling.

This is a pen, nay, The Pen
Which will discover new lines
And bitter-sweet secrets.
It will knock on the door of truth
And be let in.

And my pen, though fancier:
Bears no match
Has no talent
Holds no secrets
Tells no truths.

In short, it's just a pen.

What if I do Lord?
What if I dont?

To feel her strength between your knees.
That rhythm, 2 beats, 4 beats, 3 beats, 1 beat.
She beats the drum of the earth.

Invisible and free, mighty and strong.
Unstoppable power, singing speeds song.

Heavy breathing, rhythmic blending
Blurring speed and heavy muscle.

Watch her run with incredible grace
As together we fly to finish this race.

Look into my heart,
Tell me what you see.
Does is lie in dark,
Or sit in light?

Put your dirty dishes in here.

I'm a slave
Ruled by a master
I hate to love.

He drives me
Moves me on,
But wont let me rest.

Takes more than he gives.
I gave him my heart,
But he wants my soul.

Stare me in the eye
And I'll glare right back.
I'm wrong,
But don't give a damn.

Don't you bother help
I'll just self-destruct
And bring you
With me.

Why do you stay?
Why not just leave?
Why do you care?
It's not your fault.

"Abi your're sick!
No one wants you.
No one wants to join
Your sick little occult."