Poetry: Selections from Mark McConville

Feeling Its Glow

I fell for you

With soaring confidence

And pushed away the most important elements of being

A respectable man.

 

We stood at the corner of paradise

Looking in, and feeling its glow

We couldn’t quite fit in

And we couldn’t quite love the colourful ambiance,

Of the good life.

 

The black, the dark,

The tarred lungs

And the restless hearts

We have in our battered bodies

Are barely keeping us alive.

 

This city has hooked us in

Broken us down,

Nearly to dust

And the people are manic here

Walking on cracked roads

And drugging their souls.

 

I fell for you

In this city

Where neon lights look pretty

Oh so pretty.

 

The dirt in your nails

The bleached hair

Your crooked smile

And your ugly personality

Are all relatable.

 

So, what next?

A trip to the emergency room

Where blood spills on white coats

And blue scrubs.

Under The Moonlight

You say I haven’t got a heart

Only a twisted mind

Carrying creatures which tend to kiss

My memories goodbye

 

I am shell you say

With a liver pickled in toxins

You say I am not allowed to be apart of this world

As I’m a jaded character with no emotions.

 

To be perfect you must kill the imperfections

I am not pristinely cut from a golden cloth

So, what do you want from me?

Do you want to see me suffer under the moonlight?

Turn into the wolf that will shred to pieces

The people who crossed me.

 

Can’t you feed me enough kindred spirit

So, I can almost seem valuable

To you and the world.

Empty Mind, Empty World.

Stored up rage

Becomes an exhibit

You’re at your worst

Trying to prevail in a room

Suffocating your ambitions.

 

Your mother told you to prosper

And fight tooth and nail

For your prize

All energy has been sapped

By this room and the ghosts which occupy

The corners

And your mind.

 

Your father told you

To break bread with anyone

With genuine shine

This world is full of crooks.

 

Every moment needs a piece of your heart

Every dream needs to be sifted from a nightmare

All books look dangerous and could combust

Spreading words of conviction and rumours about you.

 

Books?

They’re treats of desire,

Monumental to the world

Educational pieces of truth.

 

Is it all in your head?

A tornado breaking down all meaning

Of thought and voices

You used to think intelligently.

 

Empty mind, empty world.

I Need Wake Up.

The stars look ugly tonight

Everything looks misshapen

This moment in time

Seems to be dragging on.

 

Why have I to be dishonest?

Why can’t I just rage against the barrier shrouding

The middle part of this nightmare

I find myself trapped in.

 

I want to wake up

And feel a breeze

I want to wake up without a hangover

On a bench not covered in vomit.

 

This city consumes clarity

And the newspapers spell out tension

Humans are robots

Of contention, walking and dropping.

 

I need to wake up.

Love Has No Meaning.

Tonight,

Love has no meaning

It has slipped beneath the undertow

Shattering and screaming.

 

The world is loveless

Light has shimmered one last time

Through the darkness

And the billboards peel like skin

Revealing last years news.

 

There isn’t even a spotlight

For those hungry for love

Or the ones losing their memories.

Mark McConville is a freelance music journalist who has written for many online and print publications. He also likes to write dark fiction and his poetry chapbook Lyrics From The Chamber is out now.