Poetry

Poetry is a fun and expressive creative medium. Here is a selection of poems that I’ve written, they mostly chart my growing up. The earlier ones are fairly basic, but I gradually found a poetic voice through my youthful angst. If you’re interested in learning how to write poems there’s a good book by Stephen Fry; The Ode Less Traveled.

 

Happiness

It comes to all places where there are cheery faces,

And hearts are content with delight.

It gives people smiles that go for miles and miles,

And also more will strength and might.

Depressed, dont take pills.

They just make more ills.

Though the real cure is known,

Find a friend who has laughter to lend,

And you should have a safe happy home.

Feeling like die-ing?

Some say a quitters way out,

There’s happiness inside you,

You’ll find it soon, without any doubt.

 

 

– Cam, 1997 (slightly edited from original)

 


Death in the Trenches

 

 

I’m waiting in the trenches,

Ready for a call,

I’m the medic on duty,

Trying to save us all.

 

A machine gun fires,

A bullet through a man

I’m going to try to save him,

I’ll do what I can.

 

Another man falls,

I think he’s dead.

He has a bullet through his heart,

And a bullet through his head.

 

Two more loud bangs,

Two more men down,

Their blood mixes in,

With the sludge, red and brown,

 

The enemy draw nearer,

I feel sweat among my hairs,

I start to look up wards,

Then I say my Prayers.

 

– Cam, 1998

 


White

 

As I sit at my window, I sit and stare

And I’m lost in my world, my world of despair.

The land outside, the land is bare

And the people who live there, they do not care.

 

Leaves on the trees? Of them there is none.

The corn in the fields? That has all gone.

It looks like a war has raged on and on

And all of the colours have merged into one.

 

This is the colour, the colour of white,

Which shines against dark of retreating night.

Soon will come the morning bright,

And with it, hope, life, and light.

 

 

– Cam, 2001

 


 

Bliss

 

The sun’s rays heating my face,

A bird singing with untold grace.

Rolling over I open an eye,

To see a perfect sapphire sky.

The grass around me, fresh, ripe, new.

And above, an endless beautiful blue.

 

A lovely new dawn, a pleasant new day.

Feeling good in such a special way.

Confidence blooming, like flowers around,

Surging with life, like the trust I’ve found.

Touch like silk, and taste like fire,

I have found the one, my true desire.

 

A slow, caressing, caring kiss.

Can open minds to an earthly bliss.

 

– Cam, 2004

 


 

A Point in my Life

 

Reflection.

To think I could change them,

In the wink of an eye.

From hello to goodbye

I have had no control.

Though I did try to have

Dominion over fate,

I was impatient,

I did not wait.

I should have seen

My envy was my enemy,

Disgustingly green

Strong and obscene.

 

Revelation.

Now my joy

Rolls down my cheek

In the form of a

Crystal clear, tear.

I am one with my soul,

Gone is the hole.

Nothing needed to be filled,

No blood was spilled.

It just vanished

Into eternity,

Banished by the

Goodness inside of me.

 

Realization.

It was

My own

Depressive thought,

That I was nought,

That held me back.

I am no longer black,

I am strong.

I will no longer fall

Through it all.

I will no longer be pushed

By a desire

To be more than I am.

 

Liberation.

I have escaped my dreams

That never would have been.

I am free to live

The wider screen.

I have found the love.

It hasn’t come from above.

It abound inside of me,

But covered in a layer of filth

Which I have washed away

And now I’m able to savour,

To enjoy the sweet flavour,

Of my life in every way.

 

 

– Cam, 2005

 


 

Lack of Seratonin

 

If my eyes weren’t dry, I’d let myself cry,

Open up from inside and really try.

But I must keep up my outer shell.

Work hard. Be strong. Do well.

If I fall and fail, I’ll forget what I’m worth,

Nervously laugh over forgotten mirth.

Overwhelmed by life, and its fake fun,

I can no longer hide from the evil sun.

Lift me up or I may drown,

I’ll sink below without a sound.

 

 

– Cam, 2004

 


 

Nothing

 

No real life, no real friends.

Just drugs and debts and sour regrets.

Laugh, but it’s not at all funny for me.

It just reminds me how sad I must be.

That I’m all alone, facing this world on my own.

It disturbs me how I can get on with so many people

When I know none of them, not one of them

Would come through for me. Unreal, fake, free.

Can I complain? Is this the place for disdain?

Trapped on a path away from the world

Waiting for my fate to be unfurled.

Feeling so low, how can I let go? Such a mental crisis.

And whats worse is knowing life was not always like this.

 

 

– Cam, 2004

 


 

What’s the Problem?

 

You asked me not to judge you.

What a bizarre predicament.

“Don’t judge me” . . often said

As if behind the words

Lies meaning like weighted lead;

“Don’t you dare judge me,

You don’t know,

My life’s so hard,

You don’t know

What it’s like being me.

How can you know?

You’ve never been me”

Et Cetera . . . listen

I’m your friend and I’m here,

Let me give you some advice.

 

Firstly, don’t forget you know me

As little or as much as I know you.

We only have a working knowledge

Of ourselves and ‘the other’,

The ‘I’ and the ‘you’.

With this limited knowledge

We fashion the ‘us’ and the ‘them’,

The ‘others’ for our world.

Secondly, forget how worldly wise

You are, or how far you have reached,

Or how many trails you can trace.

In the realm of your own mind is

Your only place,

That limitless but bounded space,

Where you can know what’s going on.

 

As to what the others see,

Welcome people to judge you.

Live your life so you can be

Sure of yourself and your actions.

Remember others in this and

You’ll find their judgement will

Be often favourable.

Take the criticism.

Appreciate well-founded criticism.

But don’t change until you feel you have to.

Until you judge that it is necessary.

Not when someone else takes issue,

With something you have said or done.

Without, grasping the overall picture,

Without, knowing what’s really going on.

 

We all judge all the time.

Whether we study or work,

Entertain or perform,

People have to judge us.

Our audiences judge us,

We judge each other

On the limited knowledge

We have of one another.

On appearances, conversations

And the attitudes that

We suppose people hold

Because of the way we see them act.

We do this because we have to.

To make sense of the world to survive.

No-one really knows what’s going on.

 

I think the problem is

That you see yourself,

Through my eyes,

Forgetting

I know as little as you

 

– Cam, 2009

 


 

Mr. Nobody’s Prayer

 

 

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
Visions will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil,
For Thine is the Kingdom . . .

 

And outside of your Kingdom

we construct thy name,

All the while dealing with your shit

And wondering who’s to blame.

 

Little by little, brick by brick,

We build our worlds.

We grow,

And our worlds grow around us.

What is growth but change?

 

Passage from one thing to

Another, continuity amongst

Continuous change.

Small measure on small measure,

Our plans come to fruition or fail

To find us our forgotten treasure.

The Devil is in the detail.

 

Power is the ability to turn

The contents of our minds into

Action in the world around us.

 

This happens through coercion

And compromise, intentions

And the social, legal and political

Structures which shape our choices.

 

What we think of ourselves,

Gets translated,

For better or worse,

For richer or poorer,

Into what others think of us;

 

Rarely does the whole arrive

At a conclusion which bares

No resemblance or relevance

To the individuals that comprise it.

 

And now, how to bring this to a poetic close,

Perhaps an Amen or thanks be to whoever?

Maybe there is no answer.

That would be too much,

Or at-least a touch too clever.

 

 

– Cam, 2010

 


 

My Purpose

 

I’m so glad that I have met Mister P.

It all makes so much sense now you see.

I never really had a sense of purpose;

Day-to-day actions once close to worthless.

I used to wake up thinking ‘there must be more!’

Well, thanks to him I know what I’m here for.

 

It’s not some notion of a greater good

Or doing the things that I thought I should.

Forget providing for my future blood

Or living the best possible life I could.

No need to worry for them that raised me.

Twenty one years waiting. Now he’s saved me!

 

It took a while to see I must confess,

My purpose in life – clearing up P’s mess!

 

 

– Cam, 2009