Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • How to right the path of inhabitable processes?

    How to right the path of inhabitable processes

    Undo the damage during manic and psychotic catharsis

    Lay a shoulder on the gloom of my dear shoulder

    Which shoulders the weight of sharp words paranoia then inevitable inertia

    I can’t undo undo

    But I can address the well meant template

    Explain I am never usually, well, in this way

    I floss I floss in the river of gloom

    Now hiding in moments

    Adverbs of deep hushed blue

    Most mightn’t understand

    But I shouldn’t need to detail further processes

    Tektites and andromorohirs,

    good omens never ceased, no apparition.

    No apparitions indeed. Yet growing weary we remain steadfast

    This birthday suit we carry

    And in that moment my brain mind shifts

    Alchemy the lure permit the transformation to occur.

    (C) 2022 Lauren M Hancock. All rights reserved.

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  • poem: the matter be – 02/02/22

    poem: the matter be – 02/02/22


    astounding though the matter be,
    at least I can still think, breathe, sigh and see
    not many people can say this
    and not many can attend
    to this tiresome irksome being stuck inside
    my head

    she is me a part of me
    the opportunistic thoughts of me
    when I’m scrambling for power then I need to
    convalesce
    become redundant there
    that side of the world, I I lost my drive

    but in terms of general threaded consciousness

    I know I am able I know I am true
    I can pick the stitches as well as sew them
    even out the ripped turret
    surrounded by green eggs and Sam I Ams.

    Protection here from the finest I will survive this
    arduous path
    these words I struggle for sleep
    enough is enough
    life can be tiresome
    but for all the healing happiness in the world
    it’s worth it.
    (02/02/20)
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay

  • poem: pebble – 30/01/22

    poem: pebble – 30/01/22

    Holiday

    This stone
    this innocuous pebble breaks me breaks you, breaks us, apart
    tearing rolling down the barrel of a shotgun heart
    I may not know true heartache now but in the past that thing broke me
    pieces of an imperfect mosaic flew
    these shards of myself not smokable but certainly shattered and vein-like-blue

    fatigue of life overtakes
    all the same shade of off-white
    low stimuli but intensity building, built
    like a road of rubber tyres on fire
    a gigantic witch’s pyre
    though 21st century

    how I wish the mania hadn’t left me
    and this constant need to sleep
    because of the medication and gorged carbs

    plus lowest stimulation among irritating boy-like antagonism
    so that we become nothing much more than slugs of tired redemption
    or those on a happy carefree holiday
    I came in far worse than I currently have become now – a moth pathetically flapping now – luxurious slug style seemingly assumed now somehow.
    (30/01/22)
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  
    Pixabay image credit 
    This post first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • poem: war of the worlds/calling to archangels – 25/01/22

    poem: war of the worlds/calling to archangels – 25/01/22

    Brother and Sister

    The brothers come closer
    they materialise into view
    expecting the expectant dame to cry ‘adieu adieu’
    but she will not fall
    like a tree in the quiet woods she will not be felled,
    not even by a dark witch doctor with
    many alibis to tell.

    he holds the keys,
    swings with her melodies,
    he rhymes and rhymes,
    in unison in style,

    like youngest and child they sing to the heavens,
    mother mary they smile at her,
    the archangels they call to them.

    these two are kindred in some type of way,
    spirits never lost yet reunited by purpose,
    shall we say?
    but the truth of the matter is
    they both have their own loves
    they only sing together like gentle sparrow and dove. 

    who is the M who is L?
    who is the character that is perceived as
    well?
    is it the minority,
    is it the victim mentality,
    or is it completely another character,
    the malicious son of an entity?

    We shall continue this broadcast of enmity
    shortly,
    let us recommence dictating World War Three.

    Nacht.

    Copyright 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All right reserved.

  • poem: amazing grace – 20/01/22

    poem: amazing grace – 20/01/22

    amazing grace,
    learning to not take centre stage,
    but to share attention and time with others,
    growing less selfish and learning to enjoy a new family
    learn and love
    amalgamate share energies —
    enough!

    I retreat, the Hermit, the rowboat goes on and on down a canal
    led by my hero of the tale,
    but the truth of the matter is that i am really so self assured out in public and in company
    but here, secluded, I am bitter, grumpy, temperamental and nasty.

    I thought i could not help it but i learned to chew the bit and hold my tongue
    for long enough long enough to prove responsibility and a resolution to improve:
    so tough.

    I was their punching bag, or so it seemed
    though i assumed a dereference and respect from those whom
    i desired to deflect
    understanding the need to get along with differing personalities
    and reassuring that that i can do this
    surely i will do this with ease
    ease of intent
    i will get out of this bind
    hellbent hellbent
    out of the ward tot semi freedom
    the arms of wandering teams of carriers of rediscovered souls.
    (20/01/22)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Frustrated: 15/01/22

    Frustrated: 15/01/22

    I over the melodramatics
    The bullshit sycophantic
    the apparent rambling lunatics
    whom do not know how to please themselves without ease
    their problems can be ours
    But I’m sick of being helpful divine whose put down
    I will launch a grenade and set myself alight
    I will smile as I dance with the powder bees
    waxing with the moon and his counterpart Saturn with his stars
    up in arms we will feel as we counteract their charms
    for they have none they are not desired to be
    I will annihilate the circumstances if I really want to leave
    The power in their cracked skulls as I want to want to be
    sweet immolation directing the bees
    spread her thighs that desirous queen bee
    and watch her misogynistic demise in her nightmarish dreams.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • The rise : today – 12/01/22

    my heart, oh my heart,

    it fills my mouth spills onto my chest

    a plethora of liquid love well blessed

    because I expelled those demons

    those pains those sufferings

    those feeling of inadequacy

    of needing to be noticed

    and appreciated by

    the lot of them

    I don’t need to be understood any longer

    I don’t need to be wise enough to be taken with

    another’s flow

    I can co-exist and breathe for god knows how long, alone,

    and one day perhaps true love I’ll know

    but I don’t yearn for it call for it

    beg for it every second every hour

    back then

    time was cheap

    worth but a dime

    and sailing through those wretched hours I did not

    enjoy myself,

    oh how I pined,

    my rejected being often soured.

    but now, now dear one listen to my strong deep

    pulsating sentiment

    grasp my pounding heart in your palms

    feel the heavenly treasure within

    I can see you catch your breath

    at acknowledging now

    not visually me but how strong I can permanently internally

    be

    I am useful I am present

    I am here and now

    reality is spilling forth

    I feel the correct rightful temperament.

    love will come in many forms

    it always has, always will,

    and I, here I take that swill

    a fill of luscious liquid

    here’s the drill

    I am satiating myself not with food

    but with cool calming water of wise knowledge and

    wonderment

    life is perfection

    but with another?

    perhaps there’s the time I will know soon enough,

    vibrancy with theirs, is what may be experienced,

    a piece of heaven truly sent..

    (04/12/21)

    Copyright © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: friends forever? – 08/01/21

    Poem: friends forever? – 08/01/21

    Crazed night full of backstabs and bites
    and false sugar sweetness relax into this dream
    there is understanding there are laughs there is fight
    there is wit pomp and circumstance to cease this inner fight

    she shrieks about the hell beneath her world in which she lives
    she attempts to share her knowledge and more but
    the bunny rabbit only questions and sings

    annoying character is she but shields the devils face
    with deep, deep chagrin upon him

    Wonder not the times of treason of incorrect submission “
    or that Libra you are for searching
    you will find her deep within me.
    For I am your saviour within this life, within our dream.
    Friends together, if you’ll let it be
    so mote it be so mote it be.

    Copyright © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Fluidity is Mine – Published at Spillwords

    Fluidity is Mine – Published at Spillwords

    I am most honoured and delighted to share that I have been published at Spillwords as a featured poet. My sincerest gratitude to Dagmara K. and rest of the other editing department of Spillwords for this wonderful acceptance of my poem ‘Fluidity is Mine’.

    Please visit to read Spillwords here to read my poem. I hope you enjoy!

    Thank you kindly for reading.

  • Poem: whole again – 07/01/21

    Poem: whole again – 07/01/21

    my mind,
    my heart my body my soul
    three unite know my all
    to time I am like a raging river gushed by a future sea
    there is reverence, not irreverence, yearning, deep within me
    temper yet the strangeness the dictations and rhythms of time
    smile widely in the circumstances
    baby girl you’ll always remain mine

    there are times of course, when we are free from suffering and pain,
    the dire annihilation and surrender just the same.

    Fear not, youthful youngsters, fear more jealous, evil crones
    the effigy is part of this circumstance
    fight through medication together
    not alone.

    Copyright © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.