Dreams of frozen time
A pause in noise
Snow silence
Winter light
Crunch beneath my feet
A robin’s breath
Frozen in song
My Christmas wish
Tag: Poetry
Rauhnächte
Rauhnächte
Light a candle
Light a fire
Ward your home
Ward your spirit
The veil is thin
The worlds collide
Tis time to gather
Need for light
Premonitions
Change
Change
Change
Change
Taiko drum vibrations
With increasing urgency
Staccato
Can you feel it?
Change
Change
Change
Is in the air
On the cusp off
The brink
Change
Change
Fear
Readiness might be lacking
Change
Tangible
Change
Change
Change
Change
Dense premonition
Like moisture laden air
My body hums
It’s coming
The Inner Child
40 going on 13
Channel the teen
Wolf within
Anger untamed
I know better
You ain’t shit
I don’t do fake
Shove it up
Whereever
Girly girls fake laughs
You’re chaff
Find your spine
Don’t use mine
I don’t eat dirt
Just can’t be arsed
Suddenly nice
After seeing mum’s car
Fuck off
You never noticed my scars
Anger writhes
Angry snake
Pale cliché
Yet it works
Me-being hurts
Just being hurts
And school’s full of turds
When we work with the inner child I don’t think we we work with the teenage self. It’s usually too edgy. What does your inner teen sound like?
Con Artist 5: final installment
I am despicable
But I believe to be an eagle amongst pigeons
I am a lying thief
But I believe I am a lion leading
I am a sad excuse for a human being
And I make fun of people who I have conned
If cornered like a street dog
I bite
I squirm
I whine
I say it’s mental health
I say it’s drugs
I say it’s anxiety
I try to pull each card I can think off
To get away with fraud and keep living my dream of being a billionaire
That was the last of the con artist series it’s all with the police now. Statement for court is written. Anxiety attack still there but under control. Back to focussing on positive poetry again. Con Artist Chris Martin, Hamilton
Obsession
Con Artist 4: A free writing exercise
Random purging
Writing into empty space
Words emerge
From a cluster of emotions
Swirling unchecked
Unbounded
Uncontrolled
Churning stomach
Spiralling thoughts
Something still emerges
That resembles sense
Of kind
Somewhere
In there
Is thirst for revenge
Avenger angel is my spirit animal
Flaming sword my weapon
Anxiety creeps up my spine
Like an angry snake
Uncoiling in my stomach
ADHD means extreme sense of justice
And hyper–focus
Add cPTSD get emotional disregulation on steroids
So I make, write, create, draw, punch sandbags, lift iron
He, him, street dog
Flee ridden rat
Not the brightest candle on the birthday cake
Will be snuffed out
Law of attraction
You can also send things
I send back
I walk the ancient path
My gods are not nice
They are fair
Chris Martin, Hamilton, Scotland
Con Artist 3
Gibberish as if drunk
Late night texts
Tail between legs
Scared as fuck
Out of luck
His house has no mirrors
Lest he sees himself
But there are posters of lions
An odd tiger on the shelf
Likes to dream big
Billionaire is his flick
Alas he is lazy
So his plans are hazy
Fraud was an easy path
There are posters, too
Of muscle cars
If only his body knew
What muscles are
—or balls for that matter
But he thinks he is better
Than anyone else
Hence the tiger on shelf
He lives the conman dream
He secretly cackles
However, I know. We will see him in shackles.
Con Artist 2
“I am untouchable.”
He brags
Dunning-Kruger Effect
He doesn’t know
Damocles’ Sword
Hangs over him
He whines
Like a flea ridden street dog
When he thinks he’s in trouble
But quickly again
Gains confidence
Forgotten his alleged:
– mental health issues
– family funerals (his family is dead they all died apparently according to his statistic)
– family emergency
– broken car
– clients not paying him (this is why he is just taking your money duh!)
– drug addiction (he almost forgot to mention)
As he attacks
Before his teeny tiny tail
Goes between his legs again
As he goes to sleep
Dreaming of being a lion
Con Artist
Conman galore
He
Resides
In
Social Media
Marking time
Angling for victims
Ripping off
Thinking he has a good thing going
Intend on being rich
Never dreamt of being caught
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If you want to keep up to date with latest developments on Christ Martin, Lanarkshire, Scotland (aka Fence Guy, aka Fence Man, aka CM Fencing, aka professional victim to hide his con) follow on IG.
Summer Rain
It won’t
It will
Ach it’s going to be okay
Humidity hits me
As I watch clouds growing darker
I don’t want to carry anything
I just want to walk
And so I do
Just me
Myself
And warm summer rain on my skin
It was okay after all
Poetry by Nathalie 