Internal Combustion

photo credit: Claudio Marinangeli OKIMG_9199 via photopin (license)

This engine power always
Fails me at the wrong time,
Just as I reach the hardest part of the climb.
When the destination is almost in sight,
Beyond the next incline, around the next bend.
So far, I have done everything right,
So it seems. I have come much farther than before, after all.
But still, here am I marooned so near to the end
When I have almost earned my reward. To see the place with the clearest view.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.



photo credit: Nullfy from! Ring Of Power! via photopin (license)

Balance can be achieved.
For those with balance, I have seen.
Yet there is no balance in me.
They say balance can be found
In the sound of a babbling brook,
Or in the infinitude of silence
In the night between the stars.
They say balance can be reached
By striding out taking a few easy steps.
By taking a few gentle, calming breaths.
By reaching out, taking hold of Your hand.
Yet still, I’m falling,
Though I never reach the ground.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: pni Flos Ignis Pluribus via photopin (license)

I cannot control the rage sometimes.
The rage that burns me up inside sometimes,
Twisting my gut, shaking my sanity.
This anger that threatens to consume me sometimes;
Burning recklessly out of control.
Until there is nothing left
And I loathe the power it has over me.
Yet sometimes all I want is to let it take hold,
Let the fire take it all.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Breaking Through

For the 10 November here is a poem about the anxious mind and keeping hope alive …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Jason A. Samfield The Absences of Light via photopin(license)

The grey clouds swirl around my mind
Like a million dark thought butterflies.
A cascade of believings before the facts
Chasing me through this subconscious realm
Up and down these roads, to hell and back.
Making me forget to look up occasionally
To see that the clouds do break
The sky here and there.
And in the distance through the haze,
A hint of blue is sneaking through,
To remind me that better days are coming soon.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

View original post

A Theory of Everything


photo credit: new 1lluminati naked singularity via photopin (license)

The world is always going to let you down.
That’s what gravity is
Millennia of disappointment
Tying people to the ground.

The stars don’t know why they are shining;
The planets don’t know where they are going,
They haven’t got a clue,
They’re just wandering round and round

And round and round.
Restless nomads stumbling blindly in the dark,
Fumbling for enlightenment, for meaning,
Unaware of what surrounds.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally published 13 April 2017

Take dynamite


Have you ever got lost in a maze?

Without ever leaving your room,

Nor even leaving your bed.

I have.

Screaming wildly as I run


Into those same brick walls

Over and over.

If I can’t find a dead-end

I build a new one.

Burying me deeper and deeper

Within the straitjacket

Torture I desire.

Yet bleed out my agonies,

In blind terror

At what I have allowed to happen.

At how I have let these walls hem me in.

I scream, I beg, I fucking hate myself

Because I plead

To the Pillars of Authority,

Graven Images,

As blind as the walls that entomb me

Within my pain.

While all around I hear torrents of abuse

“Failure, Embarrassment, Loser” they cry,

The disembodied voices from on high.

But one voice dissents,

One voice whispers

Something different.

I call it Liar, I call it False Prophet,

Because it talks of being different.

It says I can be better.

If I just allowed myself to believe

In a horizon

That exists just outside my walls.

“Take dynamite,”

It says,

“Create your own path.” It counsels,

“Blast your way out of this maze.”

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally published 4 May 2015


photo credit: Marco Nürnberger The Shadow via photopin (license)

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us stronger,
What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger,

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish for yesterday,
Makes us wish.
That the Shadow would go away

Leave us to our own designs
To roll the dice,
Leaves us to play the game.
Fate in own hands

Impostors by another name,
Captains of our own sinking ship.
In control of our own illusions
With mastery of all our delusions.

With all the weapons ready
At our command
We are ready
To take a stand.

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger
Makes us long for the Shadow
That we fear to go away.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Night Watch (Turbulence)

photo credit: PeterThoeny Sonic Runway and bubbles via photopin (license)

Transition from high to lows
Is always a bumpy ride when you can’t let go.
When you are reaching out for the drowning man
Hoping, beyond hope
That he’s going to drag you back down again –
To the bottom of the well.
Instead of just hanging here where gravity is like shifting sand.
Where the currents could tear you apart
And you’re living a living hell.
Crying tears, flowing down, creating rivers all about where you stand.
But nobody sees the pain, because nobody is watching
They all think you can cope.
They share out the blind eyes, pass round the happy pills
As the music starts and you put on the clown mask.
Believing the delusion that all is well.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.