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    Lost Property
    Lost Property
    Lost Property
    Ebook152 pages45 minutes

    Lost Property

    By Alex Defert

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    About this ebook

    It has been said that there is no greater poverty in this world than the feeling of being unwanted or unloved. What small solace we have lies in the sharing of our loves and desires through art. These poems are a tentative odyssey through dark feelings and, hopefully, a string to lead us through the twisted labyrinth of sadness we so often find ourselves in.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse UK
    Release dateJan 31, 2014
    ISBN9781491892398
    Lost Property
    Author

    Alex Defert

    An ardent student of the impossible since he could walk, Alex Defert lives a surprisingly eccentric life trying to emulate his idols, Oscar Wilde, Charles Fox, and Casanova. He now lives in London where he divides his time between writing, acting, and idly roaming the various clubs and cafes of the capital.

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      Book preview

      Lost Property - Alex Defert

      © 2014 ALEX DEFERT. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 01/28/2014

      ISBN: 978-1-4918-9238-1 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4918-9239-8 (e)

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

      and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Contents

      Foreword

      The Trapdoor of Reality

      Losing Myself

      Forgotten Sleep

      Fitful Sleep

      Sorry Leonardo

      Wild Kind

      Memory Lane

      Revenge

      What the crow thinks

      Self Examination

      From the Lily to the Rose

      Paradox

      Tick Tock

      Dear Winter

      Semantics

      Raven and Crow

      The Truth

      Chrysalis

      Echo

      Ode to a cup of hot chocolate

      Finale

      Response to Yeats being a twit

      Stickman

      In another life

      Scarecrow

      Reaper

      Spice

      Someone examine the Second Amendment

      In spite of Mary

      Addicted

      What came before?

      Stayin alive

      Pissed

      Too Soon

      Maybe

      By the Pagoda

      To Sparky

      We weave bad dreams

      Antonia

      Sorry

      Burble

      Birthday Girl

      In case of emergency

      Poison

      911

      What’s the question?

      Visions of the Never-Were

      Picturesque

      Monument

      Language Games

      Wizard

      Honour

      Relapse

      The Future

      Mnemosyne

      Libido

      Lost Property

      Sandstorm

      Waking in my grave

      For Sparky II

      Being Human

      Context

      Ancient

      Knowing

      Satisfaction

      To Sparky III

      Scream

      To Sparky IV

      Lynx

      Introductions

      Woodland Dance

      Marland

      At eternity’s gate

      Tribute

      Hannah

      Boredom

      Survival

      Dreams

      Trust me

      Secrets

      Dark Secrets

      Wildstrider

      Fireworks

      London’s Calling

      Guardian Angel

      Resurrection

      Careful Confessions

      Verona

      Depression

      Silent Struggles

      I know you can hear me

      Unfinished

      Atonement

      Narcissa

      I will never

      Unstable

      Unattainable

      Coffee

      For Erato, Melete, Aiode and Calliope

      Known to me as

      Mads, Lizzy, Toni and Mary

      Foreword

      Writing poems has never been considered a very masculine pastime. I doubt, for instance, whether any of my rugby playing friends have ever had to fight the sudden urge to wax lyrical on pieces of paper about their feelings. This may be a little harsh though, as one of them certainly does write excellent poetry.

      These poems were nearly all written during one of the darkest stages of my mental well being, and I urge those who read them not to make the mistake of thinking they represent my thoughts now. Many are actually exercises in imagination rather than literal creations anyhow.

      Lastly, some of these poems are actually songs without their matching music attached. There’s no special or symbolically mystical reason for this. I just suck at writing music. There are also poems for each of my friends here, including the guys of St. Oswalds. I’m sorry you were relegated to the foreword rather than the dedication but I hope the poems go a little way towards making amends!

      I hope you enjoy reading them.

      Alex.

      The Trapdoor of Reality

      The walls of reality collapse

      Under pressure of mind’s eye

      And a gut wrenching lurch

      Shakes the foundations of thought

      From nightly perch of simulation.

      ‘Exeunt Morpheus pursued,’

      As I tumble down the rabbit hole,

      My body entangled on the floor

      And my poor, bewildered mind

      Following behind

      Lamely, pierced with splintered dreams

      In the shadow of awakening that fell

      Between the idea and the reality.

      Losing Myself

      Shaking off my feeble rags of humanity,

      Uncovering the nakedness of self oblivion,

      It seems these permutations of dreams

      Are just another

      Way

      To say

      Goodbye.

      Forgotten Sleep

      Deep beneath the blackened ground

      The endless

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