Boxed In

I was born on boxing day
I’ve spent my whole life fighting since;
every morning when
the alarm clock round rings
I punch into submission
my subconscience and
wait to see who wins;

in both the red and blue corner
drunk on punches I stand in
every morning none the wiser
of the opponent I am facing;

Forty three years
I’ve been waiting
for this first round to end;
Forty three whole years
will you please be my bell?

Blanket Verse Quilt

Under you my blanket
yesterday was warm
and without doubt;
this morning the blanket
takes an emotional turn
in the tumble dryer
and the too small summer quilt
leaves my heart cold
and failings sticking out;

Now the tumble dryer is broken
and the blanket is stuck fast;
I fight everyday to get back
my blanket because
I don’t know how long
my winter will last.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

My Tyburn Tree

shining kaleidoscopic white
she bleaches my eyelids
out from the inside;

the sun is shining
the sky is blue
my head overflows;
memories of two;

it all will fade
you will tire;
others with a lighter smile
will call to take you higher;

does the sun really shine
or do the clouds just give way?
free to think this forever
I kick the stool under me

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Another open book

My life is an open book
but the pages are blank
so I am fucked.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Thought long and hard about the profanity and today is a day for profanity, if I watered it down I would be running away; again.

For this I paid full price

This morning weighs
as much as
all the wheels
on this bus;
I’m tyred;
I’ve lost the ticket;
I paid full price
and I’m desperate
to get off.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

A bad day. Apologies for the pun.

All my own work

I conjured this distance
I silenced family noise
I put you on a pedestal
I treated your heart like a toy;

The unlost say
“if you love them
set them free”
Cold reality quickly quips
“if you love anyone
you are not me”

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Rightfully cast aside

I have only scratched
one millimetre deep my sorrow;
under my skin
my pain swells slow;
to think myself
man enough to care; to share;
I cannot cope.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

The clock

The discontinuous clock
aside the dust-covered window pane
stands parallel to my life
neither having sung in days;

My biography makes no sound
abandoned it slips out of sight
only you they key
can turn my heart
and bring me
back to life.

 © Copyright D. Archer October 2011