Valentines   Leave a comment

I moved on and moved

and I want another chance

a look back

so have another drink

and let go

but just this once


forty ninth time

I want to know

that you miss me

want me

need me

so I can laugh you off

and say how over you I am.


Posted February 15, 2013 by gwionbach in Uncategorized

Moments   Leave a comment

I am lonely today.

And I want to make it end. I want some pills, some wine, and some friends.

I want to face it or run away. And then come to some moment of epiphany and realization that will enable me not to experience this again because I know now whats what and why not.

But I’ve done that before, many times now.

And I think this is normal, this is part of life. Sometimes, we feel alone, and sad. And to better deal with this we want to be left alone to be with our sadness.

There doesn’t always need to be a why. There doesn’t need to be an escape.

There just needs to be the time to live it, to know it, and to move on with life.

Because that is what life is. Moments that happen all the time, that happen now. Good or bad or somewhere in between. Just the same. Moments.

Posted July 11, 2012 by gwionbach in Uncategorized

Tagged with

And Yet To Be   Leave a comment

Scotch and the White

deciding my night

in the light of the nearly full moon

lonely again

while the comrades have said

that the time will come much too soon

the hippies and reds

wander off to their beds

and the meal keeps the gloom at bay

when saying goodbye

or when parting draws nigh

and our hearts know just what to say

Posted June 3, 2012 by gwionbach in Poetry

The Years   Leave a comment

Time stops as I’m Thirty Two

the heart of me and you

the daisy trails and daffodils

are the paths we wish we knew

It took its toll at Twenty Nine

perhaps that’s where we lie

with heads and beds and left unsaids

it knows the lifelong tide

We made a pact for Twenty Six

but that was just for kicks

we know the score and asked for more

and took our 20 licks

Then the summer of Seventeen

naive and in the scene

I tossed and turned but never learned

that tenure in the green

Now when we were but Ten

and could not see our end

we laughed and played as we were made

till we knew the way to send

And when we were just One

twas like we were the sun

we dreamt in thirds of pachyderms

and knew that thing called love

In the silence of the seed

in the hope of whats unseen

what we have sown remains unknown

in the myths of what we dream

Posted April 5, 2012 by gwionbach in Poetry

Viloets   Leave a comment

I woke up before the sounds of traffic, and listened to the birds while my coffee turned tepid.  And the violets blanket the grass, the hyacinth and daffodils are blooming, tulips just starting to open.  The sky is overcast but the air is so clean.  And all the trees are leafing out.

There are few things in life that can create feelings of peace and joy and fulfillment so simply.

Posted April 1, 2012 by gwionbach in Thoughts

The Mouse   Leave a comment

Ignoring the day of Paddy,

imagine this, if you will;

I have imbibed

a bit more wine

then strictly necessary

(and you’re not Will)

So I would naturally

have a girl on my mind

with her curves, her hair

her eyes and laugh and smile

and one wonders at the hour

the year, the occasion, the mile

I hope she made unconscious gestures

to the guy sitting on the right

(that’s my right, not yours)

as we talked away that night

I hope she forgave the stumbles

the stutters and the faults

The lack of rhymes and rhythms

and of course the youthful waltz

and here is the situation

while swaying in this lack of wind

I’ve had to much to drink, you see

and don’t know where to begin

Posted March 17, 2012 by gwionbach in Poetry, Uncategorized

Gypsy   Leave a comment

Elegance and grace slipped off her shoulders


large eyes and a superior smile

taken for granted expectations

I am ashamed for her

shallow at the drop of a pin

bought and paid for poise

above it all with interest and a record

lived another’s life

took another’s wife

and did it all for HER

selfish is not what this is

its more

Someone so smart and pleasant

hiding her needs in her iphone

take charge and take what’s hers

marked man that I am

her delicate hands wont work for it

wont lift for shit

she only brings her body and wit

nothing more

some nights that would be enough

but those never last

nothing does

so what then?

Nightmare past that had to be regretted

I keep telling myself that

and I can’t stop singing Gypsy

“She was just a wish”

remembering her fragile desperation

her trophy wife wiles

her superior smile

I keep telling myself

its not loneliness that provides these

the excuses I make for her

She could be nice

victim of circumstance

and the multiples of ex

like the rest

And the destroyed family she left

the children without a mother

the man in prison

the death that hangs in the air like inverted halos

dollars and years and the broken

is all just an accident

People can change

People deserve a second chance

She deserves so much more

and I can’t be that for her

because martyrs and victims

is the last game I played

the last she I touched

the last time in the poets pen

never repeated again again

and I wish…

I wish that she would touch me again


Posted February 2, 2012 by gwionbach in Poetry

Teen beaten, tortured and drowned on Christmas day, accused of being a Witch   Leave a comment

I usually let others report and re-post news articles, but I felt the need to do so with this one.

A brief overview; this happened in 2010, East London.  The family involved were originally from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where Witchcraft is called Kindoki.


Posted January 5, 2012 by gwionbach in Interwebs

The Hermit, or perhaps the Id   Leave a comment

I met a man once, in a dream.

He gave to me the stories of madness and time, a spirit beyond that which we can live today. And grasping, it all fell through my fingers. He told me that time has its way with you, and that coming to terms with it defined our lives. That when we are young we want to be old, and when we are old we want our youth. He told me the reasons for this are really excuses, our perceptions of time and self will help us understand who we are but never what we do. We are all light inside the dark. We are tones that interact with each other to create harmony.

In this dream he spoke of the lost time. He said we let it go before our time, that it was a judgment of values from our ancestors. We have chosen paths that we follow, thinking it has the ring of freedom of choice. But actually, we have been led there. The choices we have are the choices we have been given through the development of normative behavior in society. To step outside of that is not possible. To go back to something before this path would put us in a position of fringe behavior. We cannot live without the recognition of society. We can shun society, but we cannot live without it. Time has shown that we will always go back, and wiser men then I have proven that we live best when we live with others.

Why has our concept of individual freedom become so limited that these truths do not develop into part of our self awareness? We are not free to do as we will, we are free to fit in as we will. Nothing else will suffice. Nothing else comes close, or stands the test of time. We have lost freedom through civilization. And we have gained something else.

The last bastion of freedom is madness. It straddles the depths between awareness and limitless time. It shelters us from knowledge that gives us pain, but it also frees us from the bondage of society. This can never be reconciled. We will always be this, and we can’t live else wise.

The sooner you stop dreaming of being the Hermit, the sooner you can get on with it.




I met a man once, in a dream.

He told me to loose my mind.


Posted December 21, 2011 by gwionbach in Dreams, Thoughts

Moonbeam   Leave a comment

I watched a moonbeam dance among my cards

and tell me to explore animal archetypes

I asked if she was imagined or projected

she said to figure it out for myself

We talked awhile with my lowered gaze

about trees, the moon, and the journey

And before she left she caught my breath

but I’m certain that she already had it

Posted December 11, 2011 by gwionbach in Poetry