National #Poetry Day

It’s national poetry day in the UK today. Apparently the theme is freedom.  I’ve written a couple of pieces that I’ve arrived at whilst contemplating the best sort of freedom.

Where I’m from originally and where I live, these are for the most part, ‘free’ places.  I don’t suffer from political persecution and I wouldn’t desire any continuation of practices that encourage persecution of certain groups.

That’s my opinion, my experience.  I recognize that, opinions can be innately selfish.  I often think of being free of my selfish nature and want to care more and love more when it comes to my fellow human beings.

I also believe the worst way for us to act as a group and as individuals or whatever would be to encourage ignorance and the incessant numbing of any pain.

Uncomfortable emotions, depression and loneliness.  Anger.  These are all issues that within ourselves and within the human experience as a whole, need to be dealt with.

In a beautiful, utopian society freedom from ignorance and freedom from internal (and external obviously) pain would be like….well, like heaven.

Anyway.  I’ll shut up and hope the following pieces speak at least somewhat along the lines of freedom….though admittedly that word is never directly mentioned.  The first is called ‘Words’ and the second is called ‘Void’.

Off we go….


Words are weak

Words are wisps and vapor

Like smoke feebly blown from the mouth of a dying man

Words cannot always describe the terror that lives within silence

Words cannot rescue you from what lurks in shadows

Yet they’ll gnaw inside

Damn things, awakening a specter of pain

Words linger on the tongue, leaving a rotten taste

Leaving the dust of an ancient shell crunching between the teeth

Still, meaningless and dead

Words spoken by lips you never knew

Brittle pages that somehow survived

First tense, second tense, passive voice, third

Lament for the powerless word

Inscribed in stone, shoved behind a glass

Confine all words to the museum of evaporated knowledge

Until no one cares enough to read

The myth, the legend, the fable

Bury them deep beneath a dull grey monument

Here lies passion

Fears are phantoms

Love is a ghost we don’t believe in anymore

Death is a distant memory

Of someone we knew before


A warning

Declaring war on words

They’ll find you

They’ll get deep inside

A place

You never knew existed

They’ll stun and bind you

Long before you fight or hide

Words are the companion of consciousness

It’s true

Without them

You’ll die too


A void

An empty shell

Prepared to wither away

Dwindle and shrink

Into the abyss

Devoid of happiness

When all the poison

Used to fill it


Accept the hunger

At least, it’s something

It is what it is

At least, it’s something

Feel it

Filling the void

Turn it into something else

Better this, than filling the space with poison

Caustic and maddening

Eroding what once was beautiful

The absence of youth

The lack of soul

Can no longer be blamed

When embracing the pitiful and selfish

At any age

In such an event

It is all

Within and without

Chronically shamed

Famed for nothing

But lacking the necessary fervor

To love enough

















By jmnauthor3000

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