I'm currently in a mental institute, for the better of me,
and this place "Huntercombe" is showing me a new light.
21st April 2007


Huntercombe.

Spitting words like a pebble,
A pebble that doesn't shine.
Corroded bricks,
Change to the summer time.
I'm resonated,
And in need of help.
Psychotic,
I'm mercy itself.

Sprays anger,
Left the can empty.
A first serenity.
Find a contusion,
And being insipid,
Sling it to the threshold.

Spitting words like a pebble,
A pebble that doesn't shine.
Broken bricks,
Put it aside,
And the leaves are left tired.
Neurotic,
Psychotic,
I've been shown how I've lied.

Whistled invaluable,
But Lord Huntercombe,
I won't listen,
I've given in,
I've given up.



Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 1269 times
Written on 2007-04-21 at 21:03

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kath
These words carry so much strength and as I read I wish them to shield the "I" of this poem from further hurt....I read and wish just that ...and it is a very good write emotional and structured.

best wishes
kath
2007-05-19



Arise young Ashleigh
from the ash heap arise!
carry proud and heartened
your words and company...
alight from Huntercombe -
fresh of brow, countenance bright.
2007-04-23