Tag Archives: poem


My heart’s aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
who am I? If he
will just come back once
and kiss me on the face
his coarse hair brush
my temple, it’s throbbing!

then I can put on my clothes
I guess, and walk the streets.

I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.

Words! be
sick as I am sick, swoon,
roll back your eyes, a pool,

and I’ll stare down
at my wounded beauty
which at best is only a talent
for poetry.

Cannot please, cannot charm or win
what a poet!
and the clear water is thick

with bloody blows on its head.
I embraced a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained.

That’s funny! there’s blood on my chest
oh yes, I’ve been carrying bricks
what a funny place to rupture!
and now it is raining on the ailanthus
as I step out onto the window ledge
the tracks below me are smoky and
glistening with a passion for running
I leap into the leaves, green like the sea

Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

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Lost Generation.

I am part of a lost generation

and I refuse to believe that

I can change the world

I realise this may be a shock but

“Happiness comes from within”

is a lie, and 

“Money will make me happy.”

so in 30 years I will tell my children 

they are not the most important thing in my life

my employer will know that I have my priorities straight because


is more important than


I tell you this,

once upon a time

families stayed together 

but this will not be true in my era

this is a quick fix society

experts tell me

30 years from now, I’ll be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce

I do not concede that

I will live in a country of my own making

in the future

environmental destruction will be the norm

no longer can it be said that 

my peers and I care about this Earth

it will be evident that 

my generation is apathetic and lethargic 

it is foolish to presume that 

there is hope. 

By Jonathan Reed – now read it backwards.

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