Monday, October 5, 2015

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

The Wilderness Within

“Why did you do this to yourself?”

“I was trying to set fire to the wilderness within,
fill that emptiness with some kind of real feeling!”

“Well, if you consider hurt and damage…feeling?
then you succeeded.
We’re going to have to get a second opinion here
But I’m telling you that this is not looking good!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

Emphasize My Emptiness

For it’s all I’m really left with?
clam shut tight heart
holding a fake pearl of nothingness.
A bagful of drowning memories,
constant and irrelevant
as ghosts to a solitary man
chained inside the bowels of grieving.
The ‘Brighter Room Next Door’
is a gamble
and it’s hard to pin your hopes
upon something which makes you feel
as ridiculous as the thought
of dead relatives watching you masturbating.
Complaining about that ache
inside your soul
is the same as casting well aimed stones
at yourself
and the outcome of that argument is never changing.
No one promised you anything,
that loose blueprint does not always work.
When there is no one left to fight
but your own cracked mind,
Life’s chances went window-wards
never to return
and existing is all you now breathe in and out for…
But enough already,
I won’t be the only one dying slowly
and regretting almost everything.

© Paul Tristram 2015

Tales Of Terrible Torment

“Yes, Doctor, we’ve restrained and sedated him
and he’s in an Isolation Room on the Lower Levels.
This is the third incident
and I think we need to ban him from Art Therapy Class.
This time his outburst has upset Kathy and Dawn
and they are so very vulnerable right now.
The project today was to create a children’s story
and he wrote one along with coloured drawings
called ‘The Bogeyman Is Internal’.
Which is about an orphaned Rabbit
who is born different to all the other Forest Folk
because his hands and eyes don’t match up.
Meaning that he can see love all around him
but can never hold, feel or touch it (Not even slightly!)
making Birthdays miserable,
Valentine’s Day a nightmare
and Father Christmas the Anti-Christ.
And after wandering around until exhaustion
being spat, punched, kicked and generally picked on,
hangs himself from a wretched tree
upon a lonely hill where no one ever goes to.
It really is Fantastic and Amazing,
it’s brought tears to my eyes (As you can see!)
just telling you,
it makes my heart fall to bits inside and my soul hurt.
I really think that on the strength of this
Brilliant Deterioration that we have the grounds 
to send him further on down into the waiting Machine!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.

Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at
And also read his poems and stories here! 


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