I looked to the sky in the morning, but found no answers to the plethora of questions I had. There was only the warmth from the sun breathing life into a new day as it had done every morning since time eternal.

I looked to the sky at night, but found no answers still. There was only the incomprehensible vast depth of space reaching out in all directions.

And so I looked to myself. Fueled by passion that burnt as brightly as the sun, I realised I was like a star; just a spec of light amongst a multitude of others upon the dark fabric of life.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown



Something hurts inside
When you’re lost and can’t be found
You feel so disconnected
From every sight and every sound

No place to call your home
As there’s nowhere for your heart
So you endlessly keep walking
Getting further from the start

Tears they fall around you
Like heavy rain on the blackest day
And the scars you cannot see
Will within you always stay

To this life of shattered dreams
You’ll be forever eternally bound
Because it hurts a little more
Each day you’re lost and can’t be found

Copyright: authorchrisbrown



When your fears turns to tears, and dreams crumble into decaying debris.

When salvation becomes the barrel of a loaded gun and you drink your poison to numb the pain.

When every fibre of you soul is manipulated like a marionette’s strings, pushed and pulled beyond you will.

When a heart doesn’t break, but it cracks and shatters into millions of pieces lifting into the night sky to join the stars.

When the words have been spoken and all feelings gone.

That is when it’s the end.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown



Emotions are strong things. We act blindly at times because of them, through hurt and pain, sadness and anger. Sometimes though, through these strong feelings of emotion, a poet will create some of his best work.

A pile of stinking putrid filth
A gut wrenching
Vomit inducing
Stench of decaying hopes and dreams
Tortured helpless minds
Ripped out souls
And empty shells
Zombies to emotions of once they felt
Limp and lifeless forms
Stumbling through the cesspit of life
Let me join you brothers
The legion of damned
The unloved
Slaves to abandonment and eternal loss
As I say “Good luck you all!”
The lovers
And all of those that harbour hope
For love is death upon it’s end
Rips out your soul
Rots your heart
And leaves you broken to the core

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Winter’s Hold

I see the appendage of a tree, stripped bare like bones ravaged by natures scavengers. I see the rock, ancient, towering and monumental. It is grey synonymous with the old. I see death, sadness and forlorn without hope. Much like the faces of those looking out from within. The land is gripped in Winter’s hold. It is cold and foreboding. All recoiling from her icy touch.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Getting back into things

I wanted to write a little piece, just to see if anything would form in this supposed creative mind of mine, see if I was still able to make words flow and ebb like calm gentle waters over the minds of those reading.

I call this ‘Drifting into Seperation’

Two ships under a crescent moon, slowly parting upon opposing tides. Communications languish, until eventually all connections are terminally disconnected. Relationship ebbing away, like water through open fingers. Tears become now your passengers, and all your smiles have abandoned ship.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


A dark story of history repeating

A male child, born with no given name, to a mother than cried heavily at the mere sight of him. He was forever a contanst reminder of his father that forcefully planted his seed within her virgin womb before disappearing into the depths of night, leaving her shivering and broken. What chance did this child have when even his mother found the sight of him abhorrent? She couldnt love and nourish him, and so he found himself abandoned to the mercy of whoever could.

He was named Samuel by the elderly woman that would call herself mother, though he refused to accept either. He fought her love, rebelled against the sanctuary of homeliness she’d created for him. The years of his growing were a constant struggle, and yet she refused to abandon him as his mother had. Even when his school refused to educate him she stayed at home in order to school him.

He resented and despised her, and yet with each passing year an infatuation grew within him. There was something within his DNA that compelled him to obsess over being around her at inappropriate times. He would spy through the keyhole as she undressed, and yet would refuse to join her at the table come tea time.

It was upon a random evening late in the year, rain lashing down upon the panes of glass and the occasional flash of lightening illuminating the otherwise dimly candle lit room that he appeared before her as she was in a state of undress.

Instinctively she cowered away, covering any exposed flesh from his unblinking eyes, and yet he reached out and pulled at her night blouse. As she fought his advances, sharp nails scratched her breasts drawing crimson lines across them. Crying in shock and pain she could do nothing as he exposed them, his hands gripping tightly the area directly around the nipple.

As the tears rolled heavily from her heartbroken eyes, and her requests for him to stop went ignored, he forcefully pushed her backwards onto the bed. She knew what was coming next, and yet was unable to stop it. Pain soared through her body as he entered her. Emotionless he satisfied himself within her as she sobbed uncontrollably, her clothes torn and blood flowing from the wounds received as reward for her attempting to resist.

He said nothing as he left. A dark figure disappearing into the depths of night, leaving behind a broken elderly woman whose womb began preparing for the unwanted gift she’d been given.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Finding Reason


To my left stands an Angel tending to my tears. “What did you do?” she asks soothingly.

On my right a Devil. “It’s not your fault!” he says rubbing my shoulder with his talloned hand.

Like an island isolated by a maddening sea, I stand resolute understanding their words, yet let them fall upon my ear, waves upon a rocky shore.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown