Brand New.

The second poetry book by The Page of Pens is now out and available on Amazon.

Reasons why you should buy it?

I can’t think of any, everyone’s choices are their own. I appreciate you either way.

Updates!

Updates to the Society6 Store: I can know be found at https://society6.com/thepageofpens/designs

Something New is Coming.

In anticipating of a new poetry experiment coming soon, I’ve re-released ‘Oceans and Dust’ with two new never seen before poems and new photographic art.

If anyone’s interested, it’s available on Amazon.

Thanks for reading.

Hel

I let myself fall today

So I could dive into the depths

And find what I needed

I let myself fall

To find gold in the dust

And stars in the gutter

Fenrir

He came to me

And softer still

He bit right through

And gnawed me clean

And with three words

He stitched me back

‘You Create Yourself.’

Loki

Accept it

The quiet fang that tears at your life

The slow poison

Accept the defeats, the betrayals

The lies told to you in the dark

To comfort to deceive

Accept my presence in your life

The wolf at the door

The snake in the tree

Don’t let the gas and lights confuse you

Trust your instincts

Trust it’s me

Dionaea Muscipula

Do they ever think of me,

As I think of them?

Or have they moved on,

As I should as well?

In my little prison cell,

A world of my own making,

My mechanical mind ticks away,

The turning of a clog.

Do they say the same things about me,

That I say about them?

Do they dwell in the past,

Or is it just me caught in this loop?

Propelled by forward motion,

And eyes so dark they shine,

I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish,

For something, anything to be mine.

I draw my prayers close to me,

Just for something to do,

For something soft to hold,

And to pretend it holds me back.

I know I’m just a gaping mouth,

A hunger that won’t abate.

But somewhere deep,

Somewhere deep inside,

I just long to be like them.

But here I am,

Alone again,

Waiting, waiting to try again.

Kunzite.

This is for your own good

Love behind, harshness in front

Candy floss, sweet ice

Sugar that melts on the tongue

Sharp sides, pinch finish

Sweet limes and love

I’ll gently open you up

I’ll comfort you through it

But I’m gonna open you up

You’ll hate me and you’ll love me

But I’m gonna open you up

The sugar on the rim

Sweet to make the sharpness

Of what has to be swallowed

Easier to bare

It may hurt a little

But this is for your own good

I’ll be soft, I’ll be gentle

But I’m gonna open you up

Whispers of the Earth

We commit her body to the ground,

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

Taking comfort in her bed re-made.

Her energy going out, recycled into the soil,

Into the world, into the universe.

No more separation in flesh, in bone and mind.

And if all water is connected,

Maybe all land is too.

Maybe some day the roots of her will reach out

And find the roots of me,

My body to the ground,

Earth to earth, soul to soul.

Someone Somewhere.

I heard it somewhere.

Someone somewhere, once said:

‘Complaining is a British pastime.’

Like queuing or casual racism,

Less casual these days, of course.

It’s a ritual, we all have those.

Created by others, invented by ourselves,

Passed down, and wound forward,

A thread passing through.

I climb out the bedroom window,

And jump into the garden,

Walk up to the train tracks,

Ascend the rickety stairs to the bridge.

I can see most of the city from here,

Covered with a dark blanket

And lit up like a Christmas tree.

In the solitude of night,

I can forget the dullness in my head,

The whining and complaining,

The weather and the grey.

Grey attitudes, grey thought,

Grey conversations and the like.

Inflation and shrinkflation,

Boycotts and football teams.

I’ll be me, alone in the night,

Complaining that I have nothing

To complain about,

That for a moment,

Everything I need is right here.