Submissions by Penknife
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Hi there, I'm a scouse poet meaning I was born and bred in Liverpool, UK. Most of my poems are from personal experience. I have written since I was ten. I also have a passion for psychology and a focus on therapeutic writing.
Musical Punches.
His punches were so rhymical that they morphed into music.
Bumph, bumph, bumph, bumph.
I was a sorry singer all I could ever muster was umph, umph, umph, umph.
He struck me so hard a bright, white, light flashed upon my screen.
He knocked me clean out of life and spinning into a dream.
Where that white light was all that mattered.
Not what broke, bled or shattered.
For I felt nothing but love and peace.
I came to name that place 'sweet release'.
But then I heard something on the inside crack and in the snap of fingers I came screetching...
Bumph, bumph, bumph, bumph.
I was a sorry singer all I could ever muster was umph, umph, umph, umph.
He struck me so hard a bright, white, light flashed upon my screen.
He knocked me clean out of life and spinning into a dream.
Where that white light was all that mattered.
Not what broke, bled or shattered.
For I felt nothing but love and peace.
I came to name that place 'sweet release'.
But then I heard something on the inside crack and in the snap of fingers I came screetching...
119 reads
6 Comments
The Living Dead Mind Mechanic.
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
218 reads
10 Comments
Broken Poetry.
I stood in my candle lit room,
My heavy heart weighing me down.
My head was spinning
from all the sorrows I'd tried to drown.
At my feet, pieces of broken poetry,
I snapped, crumpled and tore.
My book lay slaughtered before me,
bleeding words all over the floor.
The first thing I would have rescued from a raging fire.
I called it worthless then killed it
'cause I'm a destructive liar!
A decades worth of words.
My whole paper life.
I accused it of betrayal
before plunging in the knife.
And why?..because I was defeated again
and...
My heavy heart weighing me down.
My head was spinning
from all the sorrows I'd tried to drown.
At my feet, pieces of broken poetry,
I snapped, crumpled and tore.
My book lay slaughtered before me,
bleeding words all over the floor.
The first thing I would have rescued from a raging fire.
I called it worthless then killed it
'cause I'm a destructive liar!
A decades worth of words.
My whole paper life.
I accused it of betrayal
before plunging in the knife.
And why?..because I was defeated again
and...
197 reads
5 Comments
Rock, Paper, Scissors.
THE GAME -
Remember rock, paper, scissors.
That innocent game we'd play.
Now the words hold different meaning
and the shame wont go away.
ROCK -
A closed fist used to block.
You used to be my rock.
Now I sit shaking and watching the clock.
Aching and breaking,
for a different rock.
PAPER -
An open hand used to save.
It broke my heart to watch yours wave.
My dreams go up in smoke with me behind flame and vapour.
I'll beg, steal and borrow
do anything to score the paper.
SCISSORS.
Chopping fingers used to...
Remember rock, paper, scissors.
That innocent game we'd play.
Now the words hold different meaning
and the shame wont go away.
ROCK -
A closed fist used to block.
You used to be my rock.
Now I sit shaking and watching the clock.
Aching and breaking,
for a different rock.
PAPER -
An open hand used to save.
It broke my heart to watch yours wave.
My dreams go up in smoke with me behind flame and vapour.
I'll beg, steal and borrow
do anything to score the paper.
SCISSORS.
Chopping fingers used to...
282 reads
8 Comments
Magic Pills.
It'll take too much work
to repair these fragile walls.
We'll paper over the cracks
before the inspector calls.
The wiring is faulty
but the lights are still on
by the time they realise
we'll be long gone.
We'll take a short cut
through the lion's den.
We'll keep our place
in the race then.
We'll paint the face
to camouflage the bruises.
That way we look like the winners
instead of the losers.
We'll cut some corners
to avoid any scorns.
Bury our heads
and blend in with the norms.
We can...
to repair these fragile walls.
We'll paper over the cracks
before the inspector calls.
The wiring is faulty
but the lights are still on
by the time they realise
we'll be long gone.
We'll take a short cut
through the lion's den.
We'll keep our place
in the race then.
We'll paint the face
to camouflage the bruises.
That way we look like the winners
instead of the losers.
We'll cut some corners
to avoid any scorns.
Bury our heads
and blend in with the norms.
We can...
185 reads
3 Comments
Pen On, Poets!
May the ink always spill
from the poet's quill
painting metaphors
with raw emotion.
May the wound keep on bleeding
to feed those still needing to know, they're more than a drop in the ocean
but works of art in themselves
shouldn't sit upon shelves!
but bare oneself to the earth.
Expose your truths, shed their lies and meet your spiritual birth.
Don't write in the dark nor wrire for the praise,
just write your way through the maze. Share your journey for it is a map that will free people falling into the trap
of hiding their hearts, playing parts...
from the poet's quill
painting metaphors
with raw emotion.
May the wound keep on bleeding
to feed those still needing to know, they're more than a drop in the ocean
but works of art in themselves
shouldn't sit upon shelves!
but bare oneself to the earth.
Expose your truths, shed their lies and meet your spiritual birth.
Don't write in the dark nor wrire for the praise,
just write your way through the maze. Share your journey for it is a map that will free people falling into the trap
of hiding their hearts, playing parts...
126 reads
3 Comments
The Bridge
We are all burning bridges, struck by the lightening and terrified of the thunder.
We find our way over, we find our way under.
We feel the gains, we feel the loss.
The truth is we already know the cross.
We've lived the nightmare, woken in the dream,
walked the line inbetween.
Petrified people close their eyes and pretend they are sleeping,
see themselves doing this and spend lifetimes weeping.
Whether buried or blatant it is always the rage
that burns the book instead of turning the page.
If you're full of wonder, full of fear
and all inbetween...
We find our way over, we find our way under.
We feel the gains, we feel the loss.
The truth is we already know the cross.
We've lived the nightmare, woken in the dream,
walked the line inbetween.
Petrified people close their eyes and pretend they are sleeping,
see themselves doing this and spend lifetimes weeping.
Whether buried or blatant it is always the rage
that burns the book instead of turning the page.
If you're full of wonder, full of fear
and all inbetween...
126 reads
3 Comments
Stepping Stones.
I am a stepping stone
not a place that you call home.
Stand still with me for a while,
contemplate, reflect and smile.
You will learn some stuff here
then skip along and disappear.
I'll be your rock and pave the way,
then be forgotten with yesterday.
Whenever I question why I'm so alone
I remember that I am a stepping stone.
I become slippery when you won't move along.
I can't carry you forever I'm not that strong.
If I seem hard and cold remember I am a stone.
Not a place that anyone calls home.
I'm motionless as you move...
not a place that you call home.
Stand still with me for a while,
contemplate, reflect and smile.
You will learn some stuff here
then skip along and disappear.
I'll be your rock and pave the way,
then be forgotten with yesterday.
Whenever I question why I'm so alone
I remember that I am a stepping stone.
I become slippery when you won't move along.
I can't carry you forever I'm not that strong.
If I seem hard and cold remember I am a stone.
Not a place that anyone calls home.
I'm motionless as you move...
152 reads
2 Comments
Voided Souls And Graveyard Hearts.
Your whisper is a hurricane,
A whirlwind spinning in my brain.
An echo resounding throughout the years.
An avalanche of invisible tears.
Volcanic emotions begin to stir then wake.
Every part of me trembles in the quake.
A devastation none can see
for the wreckage lives alone in me.
A storm is brewing behind my eyes
It threatens to rain but suddenly dies.
The thunder goes unheard,
the lightening unseen.
The feeling fades away
like some vague dream.
There is a ghost town
living where we called home
For my memory has fobidden me...
A whirlwind spinning in my brain.
An echo resounding throughout the years.
An avalanche of invisible tears.
Volcanic emotions begin to stir then wake.
Every part of me trembles in the quake.
A devastation none can see
for the wreckage lives alone in me.
A storm is brewing behind my eyes
It threatens to rain but suddenly dies.
The thunder goes unheard,
the lightening unseen.
The feeling fades away
like some vague dream.
There is a ghost town
living where we called home
For my memory has fobidden me...
193 reads
4 Comments
cRikeY pSyChe!
EGO, EGO EGO
How much of
ME ME ME
Do I truely know?
Denial, denial
What is it you're hiding
back there behind
that little smile?
Confucius confusion
How much of what
I perceive is real
how much is an illusion?
Subconscious, unconcious
Do I really want to explore
all the secrets you keep
behind that locked door?
People, people
What is it you can see
that appears in my reflection
as invisible to me?
Crikey Psy-che!
You are the personification of the soul.
Will I find my Eros?...
How much of
ME ME ME
Do I truely know?
Denial, denial
What is it you're hiding
back there behind
that little smile?
Confucius confusion
How much of what
I perceive is real
how much is an illusion?
Subconscious, unconcious
Do I really want to explore
all the secrets you keep
behind that locked door?
People, people
What is it you can see
that appears in my reflection
as invisible to me?
Crikey Psy-che!
You are the personification of the soul.
Will I find my Eros?...
77 reads
2 Comments
The Torchbearer.
I'm done carrying this torch.
I'd rather be in the dark.
Oh, how a fire can grow
from such a small spark.
I'm done pedestaling you.
I'm sick of feeling so small.
I'm done watching for the signs
and waiting for the call.
I'm done doodling love hearts
in the centre both our names.
As I set this torch down
my dream goes up in flames.
I know it's going to burn
but then I can begin to heal.
Instead of hoping against hope
I will wait for something real.
So much wasted energy
throughout all these...
I'd rather be in the dark.
Oh, how a fire can grow
from such a small spark.
I'm done pedestaling you.
I'm sick of feeling so small.
I'm done watching for the signs
and waiting for the call.
I'm done doodling love hearts
in the centre both our names.
As I set this torch down
my dream goes up in flames.
I know it's going to burn
but then I can begin to heal.
Instead of hoping against hope
I will wait for something real.
So much wasted energy
throughout all these...
131 reads
3 Comments
Unreachable
Your mind is a cage.
You live behind invisible bars.
Your world is completely your own
No such words as 'us' or 'ours'.
You have the pride of a lion,
the temperament of a bear.
Pacing around your territory
growling at the air.
Ever protecting that which
lives beneath your skin.
Walling the world out
whilst bricking yourself in.
You stand behind a sheet of glass
regardless of where you are.
I try to reach beyond the barriers
but my mind can't stretch that far.
Your soul is a prison in a prison
so many...
You live behind invisible bars.
Your world is completely your own
No such words as 'us' or 'ours'.
You have the pride of a lion,
the temperament of a bear.
Pacing around your territory
growling at the air.
Ever protecting that which
lives beneath your skin.
Walling the world out
whilst bricking yourself in.
You stand behind a sheet of glass
regardless of where you are.
I try to reach beyond the barriers
but my mind can't stretch that far.
Your soul is a prison in a prison
so many...
232 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Penknife