Posts Tagged ‘death’


Download my third book Velvet Dreams for free on Amazon from Tomorrow! Offer only on until Tuesday so don’t delay! See link below:

Lost to the Grey

Posted: November 29, 2014 in Dark Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Lost to the Grey

The grey sea drags me under,
Flailing limbs fight out under a facade of deceptive calmness
I shan’t prevail
My will seeping beneath the solemn waves
Embracing the anticipation that all may soon be still
No heart or soul left to lose
Long decayed to the dust that shall soon be washed away
Conscious thoughts breaking away overpowering guilt tainting the moment
As I let myself let go into the suductive grey darkness
May this greatest of sins be finally washed away

No More

Posted: May 15, 2014 in Dark Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Break the silence
Kill the fears
Speak the truth
Expel the tears
Release the anger
Free the rage
Harm the self
Serate your cage
Take the beating
You’ve lost the fight
Now close your eyes
Sleep at last tonight



A desolate place

A land once so vibrant, active, alive

Now lies in ruins, empty, silent

The weeds have already started to spread and grow

Consuming the last tell tale signs that this once was a happy place

Decaying remnents of memories crumbling to dust

Echos of laughter and fun fading into nothingness

The happy faces long gone

Sweet tasting air turned bitter

Regretful decisions born from fear and confusion

Demonised and polluted this once happy place

Thick mistrust clouding the once blue skies

Layered with doubts and misguided second guesses

Cracks form on the playground pavement

Chasms slowly forming

While buildings of happiness, love and friendship

Collapse under the burdening weight of life’s lost hope

Forgiveness has left and is nowhere to be found

Second chances simply a risk too far


Hopes crushed

A pessimistic mind ruled by an iron claw

This place once so joyful

Now lies cordoned and condemned




My now worthless heart!

Brad had been working the bars and clubs on the Nashville scene for almost 20 years, he’d had himself a few close calls and had been listened to by some of the most successful music producers in the business but here he was still playing the same old Thursday night slot in his regular haunt, desperately trying to catch one last chance break.

The sad truth is that Brad knew he wasn’t the best guitar player, he knew his writing was far from perfect and his voice although solid and able to hold a decent tune was never going to gain him the acclaim of legends such as Willie Nelson and his hero the late Johnny Cash. Still Brad had a dream, and it was one he’d held on to tightly, so hard in fact he’d almost strangled the very life out of it, ever since he was 5 years old sitting on the porch, listening to his Grandpa play. He just had to make it.

Three songs into his latest set, the incessant audible mumble of disrespectful chatter finally pushed Brad too far. Yes there was regulars casually talking through his performance but to Brad it felt at least ten times louder than in reality it actually was. He’d had this for years, he just couldn’t take this no more, screw professionalism. Brad stood up, kicked over the mike stand and with guitar in hand stormed off the stage and raged to the exit, almost taking out a particularly rude denizen in the process with a flailing pre-tensed fist. A savvy regular saw it coming though and bundled Brad away before he had a chance to do something he’d really regret! As he left the bar he could hear the dulcet tones of the manager making it clear in no uncertain terms that his further services would no longer be required. Brad quite frankly didn’t give a shit.

Brad simply too angry to go home, grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey from a late night convenience store and hit the streets for a long walk to cool off and drown his many sorrows. Several hours passed, he found himself looking out over Shelby Bridge, he had no idea what the time was and he didn’t much care. Ranting his self-pitying thoughts and pent-up anger to the river below was about as productive and therapeutic as he wanted to get right now. Mid rant a man appeared next to him. Brad attempted to look him over but in his inebriated state with heavily blurred vision the best he could do was an old guy in a cowboy hat, not exactly a description that’s going to narrow down a manhunt in Nashville.

‘What you doing son?’ echoed the man in a southern drawl.

‘Fuck off!’

‘Polite fella huh. By the way your singing sucks pretty much too.’

Brad wanted to hit the guy but quite frankly it was taking all his co-ordination and concentration to keep himself upright and from falling on his ass.

‘Look son I can help you be better, if you quit being such a dick that is. Whad’ya say?’

Brad’s uttered an intoxicated response,’If you’ll fuck off and leave me be I’ll say whatever you want!’

‘Sounds like a yes to me.’ Before Brad could muster any kind of response the old dude was gone.

Twelve hours later Brad woke up back in his shitty rented house he’d shared with his malnourished dog and the resident roaches. He’d had no memory of how he’d made it back. Grabbing his head he took the last swig from an almost empty whiskey bottle sat by his bed side. He reached out to pick up his heavily warn guitar and he began to play. It seemed mad but he actually sounded pretty good. Brad totally unconsciously found himself singing along to a song he’d never heard before, to a tune he’d never played. He was so amazed about his new-found musical skill it actually took him a while to consciously hear himself, his voice had got sharper, more powerful, it was full of emotion and soulful. There was no denying it he was better than he’d ever been.

‘I guess I should always drink like that’ he said to himself.

Brad’s next gig was a whirlwind success, full of new material he never even knew he had. His song’s captured everyone’s attention. Word got around and within the space of a few weeks not only had he secured his own record deal but he was also on tour opening for one of Nashville’s hottest talents. He could barely believe it but his dream was coming true, finally he’d made it. Some nights he overheard fans talking about how he’d outperformed the main event. Rumblings were even being heard about how his headliners were wanting to drop his act feeling threatened by his popularity overshadowing their own.

As the nights went on Brad was living his dream, each night a smoking hot show, each night a hot and willing new lady and every night drowned in the finest quality whiskey he could lay his hands on.

Six months later Brad’s ego was out of control, his volatile attitude becoming something of notoriety on the music scene. He’d lost his support slot but it made no difference as he had his own tour now, even bigger and grander than his previous headliners could have ever of hoped to imagine.

Scandalous rumors circulated about the drugs, the alcohol, the numerous women he’d knocked up and laughingly tried to pay off and the shocking violence he’d resorted too if they’d refused to comply. Brad was notorious, an exaggerated interpretation of a country villain, if he’d carried a gun he’d of passed for a timeless, lawless outlaw from the old west. Simply put he was scum, but incredibly successful scum.

Through all his success not once did he stop and ask what had really happened to him, how he’d suddenly developed into such an amazing artist, an old school country genius, he simply believed he’d finally got what he’d deserved.

Brad exited his tour bus and crossed the street, whiskey was low and his spirits were high. As he crossed the street, brakes screeched. Brad was 10 feet in the air before he knew what had hit him. Moments before his skull unceremoniously crashed to the floor with terminal effect he heard a voice echo out in a familiar southern drawl ‘I told you to quit being a dick’. The truck never stopped.

Just a quick poem before bed, enjoy your bedtime cup of Java and rest well…


Voices echo
A chorus of unintelligible sounds
A viral wash of noise
Tens of nameless faces
Some seemingly barely alive
Totally void of emotion
All wandering through the day barely aware of each others existence
Brought together in one place at random
Any reason?
Will everyone still be alive tomorrow?
Could this be one last final beverage for one of them?

A sudden disturbance
A fall from a chair
All noise goes silent
Breathing ceases
Heart stops
It seems my coffee will be left to go cold!

Music: Frozen Silence by Cherish

Greetings all,

Ok well here’s the deal. I’m looking to put together a new video showcasing pictures, paintings, scupltures and photo’s of death, dying and suffering as a back drop to a new dark poem/story that I hope will be inspired by the art provided.

So if you would be happy to have your work included please comment and provide me a link to view the work and I’ll get back to all those who would like to participate. If there’s multiple examples you’d like me to consider just provide links to all of it, as long as it’s your own work I’ll be happy to consider all postings for inclusion.

Please also pass the word and feel free to invite all your arty, photography type friends to participate just give them the link to this blog and get them to follow. If this goes well I’ll be hoping to do many more collaborations such as this in the future to celebrate our joint creativity. It should be fun and a great way of showcasing all our talents at the same time!

Thank you all & Rest Well…

Hello 🙂

I decided to try doing my first ever video and well here’s the result. The poem is an old favourite of mine that I wrote a few years ago and I think this little video breaths some fresh haunting life back in to it. If you enjoy this poem and wish to read some of my older material please take a look at the My Books section on this blog where you’ll be able to find links to download 3 of my dark poetry anthologies through Amazon.

Hope you enjoy the video.

Music: Mars by Misha Mishenko


I wearily close my eyes, as the darkness of night falls,

On yet another lonely day, trapped again within these walls.

I reach out to light a candle, and watch intently at its flame,

As the playful dancing light, seems to whisper out my name.

Calling me forever closer, pulling me now further in,

As I drift of to dream, from this tortured world of sin.

Consumed by the fire, releasing up my soul,

As my mind seems to wander, in a state of lost control.

In these moments of distraction, that my sanity’s now dealt,

The hours pass like seconds, as the candle slowly melts.

In a corner of my mind, the distant future’s what I glimpse,

Of a hell made in heaven, in a blood red rinse.

Where the angels of the Devil, scream violently in pain,

Their enduring satisfaction, redeeming pleasure as their gain.

Like the decaying of a corpse, or rose petals as it wilts,

The hours pass like seconds, as the candle slowly melts.

As I see beyond illusion, reality slips in again unseen,

These moments of gratification, alas was just a dream.

As I struggle against temptation, self preservation’s what I fight,

But this battle’s nearly over, and the end must fall tonight.

So as this burning mass of wax, nears the end of its belt,

My life will soon be over, as the candle slowly melts.