The last factory

The choking fumes for the remaining few,

Scorched earth politics, barren land full of sweet nothings.

We had so much time and so little to do,

So try and get in line and join the queue,

For last factory is up for shutting,

While the richest men in the world finally discover, they can’t eat money.

D August 2020

Blue Moon Rises

I knew you’d be seeing it to soon,

A rising of another full blue moon.

Tinge with death on the wind,

Maybe we’re paying for all our sins.

Great countries riot and tear apart,

The discourse, the obligation, forgetting the start.

So rhyme, I will, in simple couplets,

As all i want to do now is just forget,

The rising of a full blood, blue moon.

The one I knew you’d see soon.

D August 2020


No dark poetry today, just the realization that at the current time, if you’ve got nothing positive to add then the blogosphere is dead.

I’ll be spending my time with my family and avoiding social media to those who can use it for good.

Strange times indeed.

D x

Defieling the living

If you stand against the man in your twenties, their take away your friends, label you with an insanity that never ends.

If you stand against the man in your thirties, their take away your confidence, be joyful as losing a limb could happen by chance.

If you stand against the man in your forties, their threaten to take your children, and you have to ask yourself is this worth the win.

So till you end your defend in cowardly motions, else they set adrift on the big wide ocean.

D February 2020

A collection of ailments

Well I have had a lot of time recently to think about life, the universe and everything. My mental health has taken a back seat to all the physical, pain ridden issues that I’ve been struggling with.

I’m not about to list them all, after all it’s nothing like major, full combat wounded. As long as I manage my pain killers, I get by.

I wondered for ages about the point of blogging and social media. Then came to conclusion that I prefer the anonymity of blogging (with a fresh start) and deleted my social media accounts (though I still have a couple of following only accounts where I dont post).

Reasons? To numerous to mention. I feel in happier place, though I have no where near the followers I had before for my moody poetry, that’s ok. I have an outlet. A valve for the mental and physical pain. You don’t have to read it. Though your welcome if you do.

Take care D


Allegedly you need a thick skin to be present on the web.

But new toys bring new joys to those who throw and ebb.

It wasn’t always like this you know, and it wasn’t that a long ago,

When your little black book and a handful of change.

Counted as all your likes and fame.

Make me a you tube star now, I figured it all out, how?

Truth is what you sell, and maybe somehow, we slowly viewing our way to hell.

D February 2020

Stolen Sapphires

Did you steal Sapphires for your eyes? A glittering set, a stolen surprise.

Do you make the wind blow so icy? Freezing on sweat with a tongue so feisty.

Are you driven by the snow? With many more miles to go.

Do you think your one of the chosen? Keeping the rest of us so frozen.

Do you still love me? Do you see me? What happens when you’ve frozen all the seas? … with your stolen Sapphires.

D February 2020

Blood on the stone

Like blood from a stone you say, but it could so be my blood on the stone. I’m not some pious misery king on his throne, I came here by chance or maybe I was I thrown?

It’s difficult to tell with all this shouting in my head, weather you really want me dead or just want to tear at the memories we’ve read.

So try that knife against my stone, see how far you get before you meet iron against steel and suddenly realise mental illness is real.

D January 2020