Untitled
I come where the sun never shines the sons of the
father are bored at the ward where the poor man
sleeps and dies he lies to the Lord with his
empty prayers of trust and lust.
Real Power
You preach strength
Like its something you own
But real power
Doesn’t need to put others down.
Untitled
One man spreads hate
10 men do not relate
One man dares to speak
10 men fear of being a neek
10 silent men sit in their places
1 man distorts their faces.
Untitled
If empathy and emptiness share a crossroad
Why is it that empathy cannot fill that distinct hollowness.
to fill that void do you need compassion from other or yourself?
If it is a crossroad why does it loop?
Feelings
People try to hide their feelings
By pretending it doesn’t hurt them
Never healing
In the end they get condemned
Through never opening up
To how they are truly feeling.
Untitled
Thoughts of love and despair
Though its only the air
That hears me, I question,
Is it fair?
Thoughts of hope and hatred
Though it’s only tainted
By fear of you
And your stare.
Rights as a Flag
Rights are a tag and should flow in the wind
as a flag, they are sowed together with cotton
and therefore should not be forgotten. It is a way
for us all to see of what is actually in-between. A
thing that should not be abandoned by all but should
be brought together for all. It flows every direction
across the four corners of the Earth and should be
respected and valued by all. Rights are a passage for duty to all.
Brave
It is important to be brave, respectful and
unique as a young boy nowadays. There is a
false standard that we must achieve and it
turns us into people we aren’t.
Untitled
I hate when adults think we do no work and are
lazy when they don’t realise we train our sport go
to the gym and balance school work. It takes a toll
on your mental feeling discouraged wondering if
you want to keep going achieving a sporting goal,
representing your country or playing at a certain level.
Adults don’t see this as real work and have their own
goals that they want you to achieve, whether it’s doing
a certain subject or course getting a job you don’t like
at all, having their own dreams for your future.
Truth about being a Man
It’s hard being a man without knowing the truth.
We constantly get consumed by our own paths
to be an idol we worship, but it really hurts us deep.
We get slagged and shamed for being too smart,
being too weak and not benching 100kg. A man is
vulnerable, he isn’t toxic or tries to act tough, he is
kind and understands his boundaries. We get told off
by every little thing. People only respect us if we are a player.
True value isn’t looked at most men nowadays, just
the fact they have 20 girls on their roster. We all share
weaknesses, we all share tough moments.
Shouldn’t that be enough to unite us all?
Four Foot Box, a Foot for Every Year
If I hear another f**king poem about
someone dead that I can relate to I’ll
never go to school again there’s no reason
for school to have a connect to a personal
problem in my life.
Rollercoaster
My life has been a rollercoaster throughout,
I have had ups and downs and turn arounds,
I have had goals like a business I want to make
And goals like getting a drivers license
But there is still downs within my life
Such as death of a loved one
And loss of friends
My poem of my life is mixed
And I know its bumpy
But I will live through it because I am me.
Who Speaks in Engines
Who hears a heartbeat
in the turn of a key.
Before dawn yawns open,
you are already awake,
palms ghosted with the memory of torque,
eyes reflecting chrome constellations.
Engines are your weather.
A low idle is a calm horizon.
A rev is summer lightning
rolling through your chest.
You know the language of miles—
how rubber writes its signature on asphalt,
how a clutch confesses
with the slightest tremble,
Untitled
Nice guys get slagged while asses are respected,
You have to be bigger or have a fit girl for people to
respect you, the guys that look big and scary are
usually the ones that are soft and nice while the ones
that bring you down are the ones that are insecure.
Untitled
To wear a mask is no easy task pretending
to be fine while you really want to whine
taking the slags and putting them in bags.
Honesty
It’s not easy to be pure
When everyone hides behind a mask
Trying to stay secure
Although there is one cure
It’s the ability
To reveal your vulnerability
Be yourself
Don’t steal books off someone else’s shelve
Because true strength doesn’t lie in authority
It’s in the spirit of love
Fighting for a world
In which there is equality
No fake compliments
Just true honesty
Talking from the heart
Is what separates us apart.
Untitled
The fear of being rejected by people for who I am,
its ridiculous, to care about others who judge me.
The same people who de humanise girls, the ones
who think they are cool for destroying their bodies.
the truth is that I shouldn’t care less about their thoughts,
but the thing is i do. I wish i couldn’t care but I still do.
The few people that I am me with, they are the people I should care about.
Balance
From river to field I live my life,
Yet this simple story comes with strife.
No pain of abuse
Nor any close call,
Just crushes on girls
And school, starting in fall.
To many, my story is average to see,
But for me, it is all I could ask it to be.
A life free of trials is not one worth living,
But one of balance is one of true meaning.
Hard to Know
Its hard to know
to stay or go
to speak or to hide
to live or to die
its hard to know.
To feel or to cry
to fear or embrace
its hard to know.
No one does.
Untitled
Being a young man has its ups and down
Acting hard when inside I’m just a nice guy
who’s gentle I make jokes with my friends
but sometimes the jokes are to far and I laugh
them off like they didn’t hurt me deep inside.
Galway
Born and raised out in the west
Out past the city where the roads were thin
Galway raised me gentle
We had green that stretched beyond the eye
Cows in fields and Neighbours waving from battered gates
Sunday dinners loud and long
Kitchen filled with story and love
I grew in a house where joy was known,
kindness was something quietly shown
Where hugs were easy and tempers rare
But even in these places
Shadows slip through
Too one of our own
Walked darker roads I’d never known.
Wrong crowds calling his name
Long absences stranger hours
Drugs that hollowed out his eyes
Promises made but never held
Watching two different worlds revealed
One of laughter warm and bright
One that vanished into night
It’s strange how beauty and chaos grow
Side by side how love can live in the same small town
Where someone you love keeps falling down
The hills the sea the family tree
Though I saw what ruin can do
It never fully swallowed through
Because kindness echoes louder still
Made me softer but made me stand
Born of beauty shaped by truth
Galway raised me roots run deep
And though one branch bent wild and far
It never changed the ground we are
Respect
I think that many women today still face disrespect
and judgment from men in everyday situations.
Some men continue to dismiss women’s opinions,
control their choices, or demean them online and offline.
At the same time, more men are learning to treat women
with respect, listen, and support equality.
Sixty-seven
Sixty-seven minutes before my alarm,
I wake up anyway.
The room is blue and quiet,
like it’s holding its breath
for something better than me.
I count sixty-seven cracks in the ceiling
that weren’t there last year—
or maybe I just didn’t notice.
My day begins in small, tired rituals:
brush teeth, tie shoes,
pretend I am not already Behind.
There are sixty-seven footsteps
from my bed to the front door.
I’ve counted. It makes the leaving
feel measurable.
At school, at work, online—
faces blur into a soft gray noise.
I nod at the right times.
I laugh half a second too late.
By 3:47 p.m.,
I’ve swallowed sixty-seven words
I almost said.
They sit heavy in my chest
like unopened letters.
Evening comes
with its dim yellow light
and the hum of everything
I didn’t finish.
I scroll.
I sigh.
I promise tomorrow
will be different.
But tomorrow
is just today
with its hair combed flat.
At night,
I line up my thoughts
like shoes by the door.
There are always too many.
Sixty-seven small worries
pace circles in the dark.
And when sleep finally finds me,
it feels less like rest
and more like
a quiet place to disappear
for a while.
Untitled
Many women today still face disrespect, inequality,
and judgment from men in everyday situations.
Some men continue to dismiss women’s opinions,
control their choices, or demean them online and offline.
At the same time, more men are learning to treat
women with respect, listen, and support equality.
Untitled
I wake at 6:07
but it feels like 67 years old.
The ceiling stares back
like it’s counted 67 cracks
since I last felt anything real.
There are 67 things I should be doing.
Bills. Messages. Dreams.
67 versions of myself
that didn’t quit so early.
The mirror holds a stranger
with 67 silent accusations
etched beneath tired eyes.
I walk through days
like page 67 of a book
no one finished reading.
There were 67 chances
I almost took.
67 words
I never said.
67 doors
I almost opened
but left closed
because hope feels heavier
than regret.
My chest carries
a 67-pound weight
made of what-ifs.
I count 67 breaths
just to feel steady.
On the 68th
I lose track again.
Some nights I lie awake
until 6:07 a.m.,
wondering how life became
a loop—
67 steps forward,
67 steps back,
never step 68.
I had 67 dreams once.
Now I measure ambition
in teaspoons.
If sadness were a number
it would be 67—
not loud,
not dramatic,
just constant.
Just there.
Young Men
I think young men in this generation struggle
To use their imagination. Relying on society’s
View to control their variety. They don’t value
The little things, but spittle and belittle them.
And I know many can relate, but this is my chance to motivate.
Untitled
The love young women receive is more often
Then not a twisted and manipulated love.
Never malicious by the recipient or the provider,
But by the broken men, twisting their own insecurities
Into advice for young boys too naive to decipher good from bad .
Ultimately leaving young women feeling used
And young men lonely and misunderstood.
Untitled
Choosing What I Want To Do
It’s around the time of TY
When subject choices have come and we must make a choice.
And people tell us that it’s not that big a deal,
That we can always change.
But it plants a seed, a dangerous spiralling seed;
What will I do with my life.
I’m told it’s okay not to know yet, that I have the
rest of my life to figure it out. But is it really?
I don’t have the slightest clue when lots of
people have at least an inkling. It feels like I’m being
forced to move forward with my eyes closed.
I think I just need more time.
More time to try things and go places.