The ghost of myself is haunting my life

Category: loneliness Page 1 of 2

The Poems of Baz McCarthy

These are a selection of some of Baz McCarthy’s poems. Most poems were written in and around Bristol.  He doesn’t like writing at home, he says he needs the flurry of people rushing or sitting around, doing or saying pointless things to fill in their lives…

He’s always been a massive people-watcher and eavesdropper, so if you see some bloke furiously scribbling into his Moleskine on the table next to you…

Completely irreverent and lacking any formal training or respect for anyone who has, he writes from the gut and the heart and performs his poetry in the same powerful, yet carefree manner!

This year, 2023, he’s performed aplenty, around Bristol, in places such as El Rincon, The Bristol Fringe, Coffee#1, Eldon House, Fat Goat @ Jafra and Grain Barge and the poems get honed by audience reactions (shout-out to the many lovely, enthusiastic, patient and welcoming people who suffer at my poetic hands!).

Also, some these poems may well have changed by now and even grown into bigger and better poems, although I’m not saying bigger is always better!

The grey dance

Long chains of dark grey
Moving along across the windowpane

Another day gets slaughtered by my bitch

There are chirps from little birds
There is movement from the tree
The wind blowing it back and forth
The light changes almost constantly
Shining on my head
Shining on my death
On my bed

And then

The house across I don’t know
The clatter of things that hang down from my blinds
They sound like boats in a pond romantic
But they are like old fashioned clocks counting time with a tick and a tock
And eventually time runs out it runs out it runs out

The grey dance continues


Hello world
Breathing in
Black on blue
A corner of gems
Sparkling in miniature
Closer to me
A dawn square
Falling in
Through my window


I see fireworks
In the distance
Explosions of joy
But not for this big boy

Another significant day
In other people’s ways

Red burst
Into the sky
Just looks like
A drop of blood
From a crying eye

I see more fireworks
Yellow this time
Sparkling bright
Little suns in the night
But no sons have I

Cover the sun
Delete the joy
For this big boy
Was a small boy
Full of sunshine
In another time


When you live on the street.
You get appreciation, for the little things.
Waving and smiling at a child.
And a wave and a smile, comes back.

I don’t live here.
I don’t live, here.

I don’t belong here.

Where’s my mother?… Read the rest

Mark for life

This morning it was stormy
Lightning and thunder
Rain whipping in
I went to Tesco
To buy wine

I bought a chicken salad sandwich
Left it by his sleeping
Or dead

Surely my country
Ain’t good enough?
Giant green bag
Containing a man
A person
A son
From someone
Not done
Not yet

We can still chat
A conversation
About writing
Me poetry
Him a children’s story
To be so humble
So small
So green
Have you seen Mark?… Read the rest

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