I Will Not Go Down

“there is a crack in everything,

that is how the light gets in.”

Leonard Cohen

I will not go down,
These depths must be the deepest.
While this darkness is at its completest
I will hold fast. I will make a spark.
I will last out until dawn.
Until I can feel the warmth and the light
And this body becomes real to me again.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Walled Up

Between the hopes and the tears.
The coping mechanisms
Ain’t helping you cope any more
And the pills
Are just making you feel small.
Your dreams are buried deep,
Dug in with all those tomorrows,
Buried deep in the grave.
The senseless brutality of
This modern world
Has left you numb
And the distance between
The promised land and reality
Leaves you barely clinging on
To the darkness,
Your only friend.
For without it you’d be nothing; but afraid.

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The scream

I hear silent voices
Speaking in languages
I don’t even know.

The disembodied reach out
Holding the stillness
Crushing its petals.

Running down the aisles
They despoil the chapel
That once housed my dreams.

While the hollow eyed sentinel
Extinguishes the last flame
Beneath its granite feet.

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally published 11 July 2015

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

Within the eye of the storm

It is calm here at the eye of the storm.

While outside my extremities are raging.

Muscles taut, eyes bulging, body shaking,

Beset by thoughts of hurricane force pain.

I can laugh at the fool the world sees

Lying forgotten, within this calm place,

That the storm cannot touch.

For I know the fool is not real.

For I know he is not me.


© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published: 14 February 2015

Sadness (Summertime)

photo credit: dead red via photopin (license)

photo credit: dead red via photopin (license)

Gathering of tears,
Obsidian, shroud of feeling
Keeping us apart,
That sun and I.

In shadow hides the fear.
Scarlet warning
Of the dangers.
Between the sun and I

The weight I bear,
Darkness waiting.
Shunned by the light
In the setting of the sun.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


Pieces, just fragments – bonfire ashes
Blown up into the air by the moments
That lay within. The embers
Blackened, burned, but waiting
For that spark of reignited burning pain
To make a flame of me.
Lynch mob of memory lingers,
Waiting to break my bones, beat the crap out of me.
Blackened and burned yet seductive, Nemesis waits still
To come out of the flames for me.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


I hate you,
But I like you too
And I don’t know whether
To give you a kiss on the lips
Or a kick down the stairs.
Are you a Knickerbocker glory?
Or tapioca’s slippy-balls?
You’re one in a million,
A royal pain in the arse.
You’re the tops;
That verruca I’ve got to get out.
I just can’t live without you,
Yes I never want to see you again.
I can honestly say at the end of day
I’m highly ambivalent about you.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Marching in step

I’m so alone

Nobody understands

What it is I’m going through.

How can they possibly


When everybody out there

Is as screwed up as me.


© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

A fragmentary grasp of reason: Part 1

Day 20 of the 30 Reblogs of November.

Made of sticks and stones

I glimpse it beyond the next horizon.

I see it if I close my eyes.

I hope one day to understand it.

Hold it in my hands, view it’s DNA.

View original post