Tuesday 30 August 2022

Bartender

 


Pour your heart out,

pour me another barman

I'm starting to doubt.

My thoughts are clearing,

they need blotting out.

I need to feel the burn of whisky

as it pulls my soul down.

 

Pour another,

go easy on the ice,

I have a story to tell

and it's not very nice.

Pour another,

I'm sure you'll need one too.

Pour one more for me,

I need advice from you.

 

See, I was alone at home

or so I thought.

When upstairs I heard a moan,

a groan echoing

through the bones of my home.

I caught myself feeling fear inside,

afraid, I wanted to run

but from the noise I couldn't hide.

So, I sought a weapon to clasp tight

and I climbed the stairway,

ignoring the growing fright.

 

I opened the doorway wide,

A woman and man

we’re standing inside.

Facing me.

Smiles leering and creepy.

Inhuman, they sped forwards

in a strange, startled rush

and I felt the knife in my hand start to push.

The scream that echoed through those crimson walls

was not the sound I was expecting at all

It was the sound of my bride

as to my blood specked feet she did fall.

 

Pour me another.

Pour me one more.

Please bartender,

I want to forget

the day I opened that door.

Pour me one more.

I don't want to recollect

those smiles that I saw.

Pour me another,

I need to forget,

let go of the hurt, pain and regret.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle



 

Monday 29 August 2022

On the wisp of the wind

 


On the wisp of the wind,

I hear your voice,

chilling me to the bone

In every drop of rain,

I hear your gurgled moan.

The rattle of chains.

The thunder outside

and the screams

over and over again.

 

Gone for so long,

but somehow still you are there.

It's like you surround me.

I feel your presence in the air.

Every footstep I take,

I hear a second in reply

and that strangled cry

follows me,

probably will until the day I die.

 

A cold hand of fear holds me there,

in the air I hear the groans and despair.

Trickling down my spine,

I feel fingers frigid and icy,

I see visions of you looking at me

and that look on your face.

Wretched and torn,

lost and forlorn.

The gaping mouth,

screaming for help,

when help is long gone.

I see dead eyes staring into oblivion

only replaying the misery,

reflecting the images that I see.

 

On the wisp of the wind,

on its waves your words sail.

They rise and fall with each tidal exhale,

I feel them trying to drag me under,

like a tentacled beast from below the blue wonder.

I feel the groans start to infiltrate my mind,

I hear the drone of the anger that resides,

I fear that soon I'll be nothing but these tones,

when they have drowned out

all the sounds of my own.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle


 

Sunday 28 August 2022

Old hat

 


 

It's the end of the world as we know it...

Thank fuck for that!

Because in my book

this world had become a bit old hat.

Being run down by old white men.

It seems we have forgotten

what it means to be human.

 

We worship money.

Isn't it so funny

how seeing such fame and celebrity

make us feel so lonely.

Make us feel like we don't belong

that we don’t deserve as much as them. It’s wrong.

We bow down at those that are seen on TV.

Take every word they preach as gospel.

Everything they say

as if it means more than you or me.

 

We pray to the gods of media.

Netflix and kill.

Chill, bite down on the blue pill

and just forget about life's ills.

Let's watch a documentary about blood spilled.

Watch as they start wars,

Sky will soon start to report,

BBC will air the government retort

and the people will follow 

like these preachers are giving out truths.

 

Got us hooked up on social media life support,

drip feeding lies to get us to conform

like performing monkeys

it will become the norm.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

They keep on feeding just for the thrill,

until we are gorged on the shit they spill.

 

The old ways need changing,

they don't really work.

There need to be tweaks

to get this old place turning.

Let's get rid of the newspapers

and the bile they are churning.

We need to start embracing

rather than burning.

Every civilisation falls

and ours is collapsing around the walls.



 

Thanks for reading

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle



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