Tag Archives: Man

This Little Man

What started off as a single poetry effort, seems to be transforming into something else. A kind of series that I am hoping to keep going under the heading of This Man. It will hopefully develop into some form of self help, where I can address some of the issues I have with life, but also maybe help others to come to terms with some of their own issues. I don’t know if that’s too ambitious or not, maybe I am thinking too highly of my own work. I just know the seed is there and I hope it will germinate and grow into something that is strong and healthy. I am not even sure how it got started, but it did, so now its up to me to take it forward with some semblance of direction.

I have always been small. Maybe smoking from age 10 stunted my growth. Maybe I just come from a genetically small family. Whatever it is, I am still small. That no longer bothers me in a real sense, but us little fellas do get a raw deal in a world where BIG demands respect. I can assure you its no penile hang up either, I don’t need a big car or a big gun to compensate from my lack of height. I have a big mouth that does that 😉

This Little Man.

I always wanted to be 6 foot four,
All gel backed hair and bristled jaw,
But I am only 5  foot three,
And what you get is what you see.

The tall, dark, handsome type,
The ones that generate all the hype,
Leave us little guys in the shade,
For some height I would gladly trade [anything]

Amongst crowds of giants I often walk,
Listening to all their heightest talk,
The butt of every tall mans joke,
On their words I hope they choke.

Talk about me by all means,
As being small is in the genes,
I blame the father and the mother,
It would be unfair to blame another.

Being small is not some disease,
So stop patronizing me if you please,
I may not be a work of art,
Small in stature, but large of heart.

If you were small you might understand,
Its not something I had planned,
I just turned out this way,
Much to my complete dismay.

You were small once if I remember right,
Running around like a demented sprite,
It was what we call being a child,
I don’t recall you being reviled.

So next time you want to extract the Michael,
Try to break this vicious cycle,
I may be small, that much is true,
But am I a lesser man than you?

My offering to the open mic night over at dVerse, if you haven’t already, drop in and read some excellent poetry.


This Frightened Man

What began as just the idea of one poem, has suddenly evolved into what could well be, a series about the side of myself I prefer others not to be privy to. We all have our own fears in life, some are true fears, some phobias and some are just plain idiocy to all others bar ourselves. Why would a person, 1000x the size of a spider, be afraid of such a small arachnid? Why would any sane person be afraid of a mouse?  These irrational emotions/feelings are hard to explain for any of us. I have found my own fears fall into this realm. How do I conquer these fears? How can I overcome the insurmountable?

I dont have the answers, man I wish I did. I am sick of living in fear. Fear that this will change, that will change, fear that the kid in the hoodie is trouble, fear that my own doubts will become too much to bear and I shall descend into some form of insanity. Fear that in a world of 6 billion people, I feel so alone. Fear that some dumb fuck with an itchy trigger finger will press that red button and I shall die a painful lingering death. Fear that my family will be hurt by anyone or anything. Fear that I dont meet the expectation of others. Fear that I shall leave myself open to ridicule. Fear that I wont be accepted by peers. Fear of submitting when I know I am right. Fear of saying no for a change. Fear that if I love someone too much, it will all go wrong. Fear that I wont make it through the day. Fear that this life is meaningless.

Anyway, first I  had This Ordinary Man, which is what I am, then I have This Frightened Man, which is also what I am. I dread [fear] what the next one might bring forth. But hopefully, finally recognizing myself, accepting what and who I am, might just lead to a more contented state of mind and a brighter future.


Look behind this flimsy facade,
Tell me, what do you see?
Do you see the fear in my eyes?
My spirit, drowning in misery.

How do I face such fear?
Is it easier to run and hide?
Who will walk with me hand in hand?
Who will be my guide?

Can you sense my terror?
As I fall into this chasm?
Is that you I see waiting for me?
Or just another phantasm?

How far down is it that I fall?
What is that terrible smell?
Is that brimstone and fire my own?
Is this my personal hell?

The wall I have built to surround me,
Noisily creaks and groans,
The struggle to hold back the deluge,
That will strip me back to bare bone.

Then the facade will be no more,
Am I back where all this began?
Look inside now and you will see,
The soul of this frightened man.

This does no say exactly what I want it to say, I have problems translating thoughts into words. For now, its about as close as I can get, so I shall leave it at that.

Submitted to dVerse Open Link Night. If you haven’t already, pop in and take a peek at some truly amazing poets and poems.

The Shell of Men

I have lived,
What more is there to say?
I lived captures the essence,

Have you lived yet?
Will you ever live?
Will you ever sample,
That only the world of man,
Can ever dream of.

Are you to end like this shell,
Bitter and,

Life is out there,
Go now,
Find it,
Discover it,
Live it.

Before it’s too late!

Submitted to Magpie Tales

Black is Black?

This is probably gonna get me into a whole host of trouble and negativity, but its something I have thought about, felt about, discussed with myself about, just an issue that in my own humble opinion, needs addressing and soon, not just by me or you, but by the world before it all gets out of hand.

I just read a great poem. It’s about the colour of someones skin. Read it for yourself, you might like it too.


The thing is, the title asks a question which I had considerable reservations about. Why did you make me black oh lord?

Who decided and when was it decided that a race of people who have brown skin, should be referred to as black? The Lords response to the question contained within the poem says he made skin as black as coal as from coal comes diamonds. Unless you have worked down a coal mine, I have never once seen a person with skin the colour of coal. If you work down the mines, the colour of your skin is the same as everyone elses, you are all black and I mean BLACK, not brown, or a shade thereof, but black as the coal you are mining.

I am not white either. The world, along with all the people on its surface, or below it, is not black or white. I wish it were all that simple, but it’s not. I don’t give a f**k what colour your skin is to be honest, that has no bearing on you or me as a person. I am not white, I am a dirty pinkish kinda colour with a few scars that are white [ish] and a few bruises that are bluey/purple/yellow kinda mess, like a childs paint pallet. Is the man from China yellow? IS HE F**K!  No more than I am white or you are black. Who the hell dreamt up these bloody titles/names anyway? Just because they are there I have to use them? Well bollocks to that as well. I aint white, you aint black, he aint yellow, so why paint a picture with words that tell a lie? Are we all liars now? Conditioned by what? Media? to use these terms when they just are not true? The sky on a beautiful summers day is blue! It’s not green [ish] or grey [ish] its blue, simple, straightforward blue. Ok, ok, there are hues and tones of blue, but I have always known the sky as blue, sky blue, not sea blue, not Trafalgar or Navy blue, just sky blue. Hey, its simple is this really. I wonder why the world wants to complicate it, when it really is simple. If skin colour/tone is what makes us all different, we have got problems. Is your God better than my God? or should that read Deity? Whatever. That is the crap that kills, very rarely is it down to skin colour. I killed the f**ker ‘cos he was black/brown/white/yellow with polka dots. I don’t hear that, I don’t read that, I don’t see that, not very often anyways. But I do hear it said about religion. But that’s not what this blog is all  about. This is just about the crap terms we use to describe our fellow human beings and it needs to stop. If you are brown, purple, white, I don’t care, pick your own damned colour, YOU ARE STILL HUMAN, just like this dirty pinkishwhitebrownyinsummer bastard. I like people because of who they are, what they are and what they stand for, I dislike people for the same reasons, not because there are a different skin colour to me.

Time that we all took a long, hard look at ourselves. Anyone, and I mean anyone who regards themselves as white, or black is as guilty of discrimination as the next bigot. Just cos I walk like a drunk [medical condition] doesn’t make me a cripple does it? A black one or a white one. You call me a cripple, its discrimination. Would you call me a white/black cripple? Doubtful. So drop this nonsense already, its old, its tiresome and in literary terms, it’s very incorrect.

Well, that’s my rant over with today. Tinks is due back soon, so I am gonna go and wash some dishes and then think about dinner tonight.

Tatty Bye