The Lost Watchmaker

God

The Father, the Son and the bastard ghost

The mirage in the sweltered landscape of humanity

As true as anything in a false world

Of false people who wander through life

Like sheep to be flocked

Wish away our problems

Wish away our responsibilities

To dwell in the darkness of our minds

Lit by a flickering bulb of yellow

When the sun is just outside

Who are we to deny the Lord

We the animals grown beyond our bounds

We who are gods and madmen

Warped mirrors of ourselves

As we are warped mirrors of Him

And He is a warped mirror of us

All powerful in a powerless world

All seeing among the blind

All knowing to those bathed in ignorance

Never forever the one and only collective

Love is the sacred soul spread thin among us

Eternal like a legal contract wrought from toilet tissue

The Lord our savior

Our Creator

Our creation

Our damnation

Free will gifted as a catch twenty two

Excuses for abandonment

Blood and flesh is wine and bread

Artificial constructs created to appease our wants

Needs augmented to suit our tastes

A need for answers embodied by our minds

To fill our forms and childlike search

For guidance from the wise infallible parents

We left behind to become who we are

He who burns cities, floods worlds

And requires the blood of children

This thing that we call Father

This king of men who died for our sins

Yet still we suffer and always sin

We hate like we love

With a passion burning from unnatural fires

Yet never do we stop to think

To think is to find thoughts that we fear

And fear is to realise we are but beasts

Beasts in the dressings of a civilised society

Under a civilised God pissing enlightenment

Like the Bible cursed rich who piss money to the poor

God’s chosen children orphaned

As their father is dragged drunk to the insane asylum

Babbling at the walls

Screaming for a mother never had

Lost in a sea of faith that none can know

Because who could know the unknown

The flows of life and death

That bind and separate us in chains of fate

Chains that we as humans make

To live, to die, to procreate

Beneath the eyes of Heaven

The eyes so misted by the time

Between each blink eternity

How could we comprehend it all

The vastness of the universe

And how could the universe possibly feel

Comprehension of an ant in space

An ant, a man, a race

A myth to our own imagination

An idea blowing in the wind 

A cry to God and Allah and Buddha

And to Thor and Superman and Santa

And the ghosts who lurk in the peripheral vision

The visions of madness and glory and destiny

The ravings of the lost souls

Desperate for a hand to hold.

The Hymn of Humanity

I walked down the streets and the only thing natural I see is the sky.

Stone walls surround me, tarmac ground supports me 

and fake people are everywhere I go.

Am I fake too? I never knew.

What is fake and what is true?

My eyes look up and I spy a cloud, or is it just toxic smoke?

I don’t know. Do I even care? Does anyone?

Is that why God no longer guides us, blocked from us by our own poison fumes?

Is that the deal we made, equivalent exchange?

The world for our comfort is so obviously fair?

I cast my eyes down to avoid more philosophical thought

And try to spy ground between the carpet of waste.

I despise all this scum. What have humans become?

Just when will it end?

A drop hits my hand and my head becomes raised

Another and another and soon the clouds pour.

So fast does it come that it obscures my view

Covers the buildings and cleanses the floor.

Even the heavens cries for the Earth’s pain.

Rain keep a coming and wash the world clean

Because no matter how hard we try it is too late for us

Rewrite the wrong that became our undoing 

And sing us a song for the start of our ruin.

Smile

“Smile.”
“Why?”
“Because it is your job.”
“But I do not feel like smiling.”
“Nobody does. Act. Put on a mask and smile.”
          “Smile.”
          “Why?”
          “Because that is how you form social interaction.”
          “We form bonds through lies? Wrap ourselves in deception to deceive the deceiver?”
          “Yes.”
          “What about reality? The truth?”
          “Truth is what the masses believe. If everyone is fake it becomes reality.”
                    “Smile.”
                    “Why?”
                    “Because you are having your photo taken.”
                    “So I must grin like a fool?”
                    “It is a moment locked in time forever. You must look happy.”
                    “Like a wax model? Constructed by others? Locked in falseness forever?”
                    “Wax and photographs last while flesh rots to dirt.”
                    “I surrender to opinion.”
                    “Cheese.”
                              So I must smile. Wear the face that is kept in a jar by the door.
                              Coat up in my imitation leather jacket and synthetic shirt,
                              Walk among the dyed hair, bottled tan and altered bodies.
                              Eat the processed meat and drink the juice untouched by fruit,
                              See the reality shows that could be from another universe.
                              I question life and life questions me. I question myself.
                              You can do anything you want in life if you try.
                              That is what they say as you are forced through school,
                              Forced into a job that you hate. Forced to grow old and die.
                              I use to watch the wildlife from my window as a child.
                              Rabbits ran through hills, frogs swam through ponds and I smiled.
                              Then the bulldozers came. Nature was replaced with housing
                              And left me stranded in a sea of humanity.
                    “Smile.”
                    “Why?”
                    “Because you are alive.”
                    “A smile is just muscles that are used to express emotion.”
                    “Do you not feel happy?”
                    “I am happy. There is no need to express it every second though.”
                    “That is what is expected of you.”
                    “I do not understand.”
                    “Good. We are making progress.”
          “Smile.”
          “Why?”
          “Because the world is watching.”
          “Watching what?”
          “You, me, and everything. Nothing.
          “But I am unimportant.”
          “That is why you have no right to frown.”
“Smile.”
“Why?”
“Because I have told you to.”
“I am my own man. I will be passive because I am free.”
“You will smile because you are a puppet of society.”

Ode to Education

I realise why we students drink

Bullshit

Lest we remember all that

Is shovelled uselessly into our brain

Idiocy in academia’s robes

Oh, why but we the tortured souls

Who listen to minutia incarnate

Pretentious intentions

Interpretations

Intervention for the love of Dog

Drink to dull the ache

The ache that bullshit must create

To me the curtains are forever blue

The interpretation as clear as the vodka in this glass

Border Collie Ballad

Lush fur of black with streaks of white

Brown highlights to add colour

A small black nose and eyes so bright

A mischievous sleeve puller

 

The way she whines when she’s ignored

Those dazzling big toothed smiles

She keeps me active when I’m bored

And loves to run for miles

 

Though she may have an angels face

She’s got a nasty mood

If you ever get upon her case

Your hand will be her food

 

She’s not a dog who likes a hug

But rather likes to fight

Her favourite game is pull and tug

She cries alone at night

 

And now around my feet she’s curled

I watch her fast asleep

I wouldn’t change her for the world

She dreams of chasing sheep.

Reflection

I stare out into the night-drenched countryside beyond the train window

But there is no world to be seen.

All is gone, like the hopes of youth.

The black pool of glass stares back at me with my own eyes

A ghostly reflection of my own cursed visage

Bathed in the golden light of fluorescent strips from decades past

Like the holy aura of a lauded saint

Effervescent before the sins of man.

Those eyes accuse me of a wasted life

And I accuse them of dreams outside my reach

While darkness mediates between us.

Our silent complaints are lost to the void

Like the lives of men in the choking night.

Then, the birth of a cosmos in a thousand lights

As stars of humanity cast away the other me

Scouring my soul of reflection

And leaving me to face the tides of reality alone.

Reminiscent Futures

Our lives extend out around us as a nexus of interconnecting paths of chance,

Shining golden threads leading off into unseen darkness like jellyfish in the ocean’s abyss.

A million unknown directions and encounters, each a siren singing us to an eventual demise.

Some we see with dread, others we paint as opulent images of bliss,

Grasping for the right threads to cling to as we drag ourselves from present to future,

Over a concurrent chain of neglected days that pass away beneath our calloused notice.

Dreaming of the future like a precious childhood memory,

Even as we twin these thoughts with past nostalgia that never was.

Always we flee blindly from the cliff ledge of death,

Yet are keenly aware of its creeping presence as the void erodes the earth.

Final, inevitable, it follows at our heels and awaits us at our destination,

But we continue to run, some thrashing with life while others are numb,

Chasing a tomorrow that never arrives,

Or a dream that never dies…

Wonderland Blues

Just like Alice had to awaken from Wonderland

So too do we find ourselves torn from the pleasant fantasy

Of our dearest conventions.

We the weirdos and oddballs who find no peace in life

Who are beaten down and left alone in a sea of reality

Come together to indulge in the make-believe worlds

And form bonds of family that none outside can grasp.

For days we have laughed, loved and lived,

We have belonged.

The music and the voices and the costumes filled our souls

And we donned the masks of heroes and madmen

To patch the holes in our own personalities,

To set aside our own deficiencies and become something more.

The alcohol flowed and we sang together,

Dancing to the tunes of our youth with tears in our eyes

And friends surrounding us in the warm embrace of acceptance.

Our time came.

But,

Now our time has gone.

The halls where we cheered and laughed have closed their doors

They stand empty and grow smaller as we are drawn away from our Wonderland,

By the incessant call of life.

Now the costumes have gone, as have the beautiful bubbles of bliss

That we formed around ourselves to ward away the coldness of the outside world.

We shiver as we remember.

Back we return to being the outcasts.

Back to the judgement of those who do not understand.

Back to the jobs that drain our spirit

And to the all too normal streets.

We will catch glimpses for a while,

People in the corner of our eyes who spark hope.

We turn expecting No Face but instead it is a burkha clad mother.

A flash of colour and strangeness is a man in a sports uniform

And a funny hat and strange clothes is a jacked-up hipster.

Our colours seem to drain as our memories fade.

Another year to persevere,

Another year

Another year,

My dear, dear friends

Another year to keep ourselves alive to once more live again,

A year until these dying embers can once more rise like a phoenix

And blaze in all the colours of our perfect world.

Drunk in the Amber Moonlight

I sit here in the amber darkness, pleasantly drunk on fruity toxins that tug on my thoughts like children on their mother’s skirts. Two decades and more have not immunised me of that harsh orange glow that outlines my midnight world.

I stare from my window, my portal from comfort to the outside world. All that I am rests at my back while nature’s shaded husk greets me through the glass. There are no stars, only an indistinct blur of civilisation that consumes the heavens like oil on water. What was once fields, woods and marshes now stand in regimented rows of brick and plastic watched over by tall guardians of fluorescent light. Darkness is but a ghoulish shade of our minds.

Before me, blocking my view and blinding my jaded eyes like God upon Mount Sinai stands one such guardian. It fills my mind and my world with amber imaginings even through closed curtains and eyelids. All that it truly protects is my insomnia. My insanity. This beacon of society surveying my sovereign kingdom, as foreign as the square sun that rises in my dreams, as familiar as the eyes that have looked upon it their every damned day.

Winter Night

It is a winter’s night

cold is thick in the air

and my covers do nothing to protect me

from the icy fingers that claw

across my skin.

0

The wind howls outside

rattling the doors

sending a ghostly draft

through the house like the malign

breath of a sleeping god.

0

I shiver and bury myself

deeper into the confines

of my cotton prison

seeking the warmth

that my soul has lost.

0

Had the world always been so cold

or has the heat faded

alongside my life

or maybe all is still warm

and I am simply dead.


This is the last poem I have from uni that I feel is remotely worth sharing. It was written during a bout of depression and could do with being more subtle I think. I wanted to capture the bleakness of how the world can feel when the darkness is washing over you mind and soul. Those times where you lay in bed on a cold night and contemplate the world.