poems from my new book...
Suicide Room
There's a room where people go to do something beautiful and special.
They go there to commit suicide.
I caught a glimpse of it in a vision after a vodka night when Emma had forsaken me.
The white wood walls are blood splattered.
Daylight comes thru gaps in a boarded up window by a corner.
A small curved potato peeler knife is what everyone uses.
Such a wicked and effective tool.
People ravaged by despair and failure come here to die.
It's a long list; the knife's always bloody.
Something from that dark multi emotional place came thru my vision and lodged in me.
What?
A ghost or the reason why?
Why all types of people go there to suicide?
I can't see it; it's hidden.
I do see what 5 years of failure in love has done to me.
Decades can be added to that.
So much shit in my head, life, heart, me.
My turn will soon be here to end my life in that room.
The Suicide Room.
Emma will be next, following me.
Death by razor sharp potato peeler.
Thanx Em.
I started to love you and look what you made me do.
I'm mad at you but don't hate you.
Quite the opposite.
Goodbye.
Therate
I want them to find all lost bodies on Thera.
Thirty metres of ash hides them.
Brothers and sisters cremated alive.
There was no divine guidance from a higher divinity over her last 4 years.
Wishful thinking on her part, oh yeah.
She, Katrina, acquired a taste for gin.
Life goes on, so her mate said.
Jesus failed continuously from 2013.
Ikea replaced him.
Sacred Dream
You can’t steal my dream.
You can take everything I’ve got but not my dream. It belongs to me. My path is my dream.
You can't steal my dream.
WOW! TATTOO MY BUTT -
MORE MAD POEMS AND VERSE BY NICK
By Nick Armbrister
