alternative, literature, poetry, Uncategorized


The old tricks don’t work anymore.

The antiquated armour has rusted to dust.

The Ancient walls came down

To let emptiness flow in like a river.

I guess this is what its like.

To subside on clichés and handouts.

I revisit hunched old haunts

An addict’s ghost unable to let go.

Tweaked, torn & twisted, unrecognizable form

No longer trying to fly to mountain peaks,

Just trying to raise my head above the gutter.

Jack Blare, Impersonating Emotion (2015)


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