Blinded By Searchlights

I’m searching for something
I have no idea how to find,
Scrabbling in desperation,
It often turns me blind,
I can’t see what I’m doing
So I’m breaking things I like,
Through the green mist it seems
These pieces just aren’t right,
Like a jigsaw with missing corners
And bits from another set,
This puzzle that I’m building
Is built on concrete that’s still wet,
With rotten wooden roofing
And bricks of soggy clay,
I curse my home’s ineptness,
I curse me everyday,
Then as each morning rises
The sunlight turns me blind,
It shows me I’m still looking
For something I can’t find.

poem by Stuart Doggett
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White Powder Bullets

Rain,
We dream of rain
To wet the dreams we have,
Quench the pulsing heat
Wash away the footsteps,
Cleanse the spent metal jackets,
Clean dirty hands and sore eyes,
To break the dust.

Hand out the powder bullets
To those who we don’t mind dead,
Paper says what we want
While they shoot themselves in the head.
Hide it in the headlines
Of places big and tall,
Hide it in the faces
Of those that tell us all,
Hide it in the places
You never thought you’d go,
Hide it in the beauty

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poem by Stuart Doggett
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Ringing Ears

Burning, burning,
Wire down my spine.
Searing, searing,
Drive out the pain inside.
Flowing, flowing,
Coursing through my veins.
Lifting, lifting,
Brings me back again.

Reanimated,
Reborn,
Drawing out my life,
The music drives me on.
The music drives me on.

Faltering, fading, failing,
Wading through flesh tinted fog,
Colour bleeds from my surroundings,
Organ grinds but monkey stops.
Sounds die on my lips,

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poem by Stuart Doggett
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