Two More Poems From the Archives

Two more poems from the archives. Twice from Nov 1994 and Wake the Dragon from March 1999.

WIP: 23 (Title To Be Decided — Song of the Free?)

This is work in progress poem I am occasionally poking at, but I like the concept enough to share it before it is finished. I hope you, the reader, find something enjoyable about the piece, rough as it is.

Poetry From the Archives

I’ve begun the gradual pull of things of items from archives into the new site. For the moment I have picked two poems from 1994 - 1995 which is the period when I was first diagnosed with a mental illness. These poems are not obviously poems related to my mental illness (there are others, which I probably won’t share, which are), but the fact I was writing poetry at all had more to do with a need to express myself due to being in crisis than due to fancying myself as a poet or an author of fiction.

Wake the Dragon

Therein lies the slumbering beast; To wake or to die. Wake the slumbering beast, or let it lie, Yet it will rise. Wake the slumbering beast of old’n yore, of ancient speech, and older way, though none shall say. Wake the slumbering beast or let it lie? Wake the slumbering beast or let it lie. Wake the slumbering beast at your peril, Let it lie For lives untold. Wake the slumbering beast

About The Trash

There’s smoke in the air and music pounding in my ears There’s cracks in the floor and glass under my feet There’s hope for me and for you Only we must meet Tell me how it ought to be Tell me what you want to see Tell me. Dance with me and watch me fall in love Dance with me and we will be Dance with me. Crowds of people


Tis twice now that friendship and love have died twin deaths what was wasn’t and what wasn’t was to speak more plainly; in retrospect twice, best friends, weren’t. Perran November ‘94

Thoughts On a New Room

I have a space of four walls between me and the world It is a mess but it is mine A private kingdom A world all my own A place to hide, to think, to play It may never see another soul, it matters not, for it is mine.