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Best Poems Written by David Gale

Below are the all-time best David Gale poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | David Gale Poem

I Got My Pennies-Worth By Saying No

There’s a five pence piece in my pocket, it means nothing to me.
It’s an object that shouldn't be there, but with someone else or somewhere.

In my pocket! Forgotten.
Like the growing old colourless material on me.

The five pence piece makes me feel smaller than normal, giving no impression that I'm doing well.

As leaning over the toilet seat, as bent slate or like the nickel-plated being.
It’s getting closer to my piss and stained trousers with sick.

The argument resulted in a shortage of thinking.

I am alone with another woman (Elizabeth) but for the moment she is warmer and kinder.

I needed to lay down for a long time.

Details | David Gale Poem

I Highlight To My Manager That's Work Is Just Disorganized As My Mind

t's evident that you are trying all avenues to return to work and health and appreciate your difficulties and shared your complete frustration. If you are not sure what to do then you get help soon as possible. I would be grateful if you could confirm weekly contact to form a plan moving forward with both conditions and I look forward to when you can join the service that ably well”

This is the best poem that my manager can write at the time who is just as alone and dissolved.
While walking towards teenagers who hold degrees at universities, who wait and wounder at local tills. Walking, I investigate the windows of emptiness, holding couples within bars with sound so loud it hides your disappointed, so no longer is needed speech.

Without substance people are elated towards fools, without exception we forget and pretend as nothing affects us daily. A world gives order to almost every one who are convinced.
We are useless and unknowing due to a worlds appearance is of choices.

When the best poem we can write feels nothing at all. What shall we do with our lives? Willingly believe everything in life? which is real as we are inherited by animals. But how should we live our life’s? merely by conscious as it comes?

Death is stupid and unrecognised, but we are winner without “genius”, stuck with nothing to discover, there’s no unusual thoughts or popular feelings. Life has the quality of a nightmares but if you follow the general current, we could have been happy, but its’ just as easy going up the river as down.

A person who ill.
Lives a longer life.

Details | David Gale Poem

Intervals of Consumption Can Improve Upon Guessing the Time

I often open the curtains to let the heat in, but there’s no sunshine today.
While sat in a chair that’s versed and infirm, blistered brown, bitter and solid as the surrounding bricks.

Was it a daydream of fortune. When a breeze, shimmered with animals within a contorted tree. Behind a typhoon of blue.

An open curtain can warm the room, until ordinary shades of disturbance advance.
Providing unspeakable gloom, I return to bed, for an extra day. When its raining, life surrounds a flower upon the windowsill. When you nothing, there only themes of nothingness.
I also can open the curtains to let people inn, forget the wasteland of silence
People are coloured peeks and cure the reflection of my grey.

This morning, there's no sunshine, a small glint of a cloudless glow. I did nothing but waste moments. Everyone seems no brighter than me, as a breakthrough smile appears upon my laughing face.

Details | David Gale Poem

For the Attention of Joanne Regarding Bankruptcy Ref - Bkt5055794

Dear Joanne. If there is a problem, there are human beings.
We have all made mistakes but people like me are not needed.

Dear Joanne. I have received a letter from the office of the adjudicator concerning my income and expenditure. It is requesting that on my present earnings, that my disposable income is £744.00 per month. However, my current circumstances have changed, and I will always continue to change.

I must move out of my current property and have nothing but books.? I have lost things and made memories and lost things. I have investigated private accommodation, but they are asking for a deposit, two months in advance which is likely to be more than two thousand pounds just to rent not including bills. I have approached the local hostel; I do not meet the criteria as I am employed.
?
Dear Joanne. I am starting to think I’m crazy. I have not yet found any options but staying at the library and to write. This month I’m paying for my MOT, renewed car insurance and service. I can’t get more ambition as my greatest moment in life, is waking up at 6 am and returning endlessly, incomplete. Every day is the same, but I don’t feel the same. To maintain my job, I am doing more than 18 hours per day.

Dear Joanne. I am living in a car park. I am currently concentrating on accommodation; my mind continues to be problematic. I would call but I don’t have a phone. In established solitude I neglect myself.

Dear Joanne. I can’t afford food. I have observed peppers that trigger regret, mushrooms in various states of anxiety and courgettes produced in Morocco that make me question my minds direction. All the decorated cans of foods are at unobtainable heights, potential future achievements. The closest expiration date has more value, more worth than people like me who live in a dark room.

There is more love being alone. It was the greatest opportunity to know why I lived and offered me chances to see real life. We are just as meaningful as vegetables. In our own beds, looking up at the world. As nothing.

Details | David Gale Poem

Me and My Girlfriend Parts Always Smell

I can smell her now, sedentary. Face uncomplete, while sitting in the middle of the bed, wearing no pants. The best parts are sometimes our own faults. She says “I never lied to you as everything I felt and said to you was true at the time. I did not lie or act out to get attention. I did not say things intentionally to hurt or trick you. I, only ever responded to, you. In my way".

She says after many months and just like yesterday. Telling me " I feel time and life are too precious to stay in connection with others who have massively different energies, as it hurts us both, in the end”. While now laying down, pulling at her hair while looking elsewhere. “We didn't find each other in this life, so that we could change one another, its feels like you resent me”. My girlfriend jumps in and out of bed, more than others, often mistaking this for love. I say nothing, she turns the light off and I fall asleep.

Details | David Gale Poem

Days Off- Acting Like a Genius

More Exposed, at 5.47 am I write poems like Wilt Wittman. It’s true, the first draft of anything is , all for a lasting minute.
However, creating agitated intestines involves experiences and years of discipline. At that moment, receiving text messages, “I can’t live this way”, “life’s too precious”, and “we are finished”. Towards the end of everything, especially books, I wipe my ass.
My original girlfriend returns from work. I’m sleeping on the sofa, drunk without love, hiding my hands that smell of cum. There are years of walking around a room, with clothes on the floor, it reminds me of my youth, "My old man”. Slipping into bed, I consider the nine cans left in the fridge, the things I lost, all within one day.
By pissing out my ass, masturbating five times a day, or even by reading a short story by Hemingway. I neglected myself for this poem! My life’s not for everyone!. Upon waking, it all just starts again.
T

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A Second Class Letter Sent To the New York Time

I only need stamps this time. “What did you do last night?”, “We have planned on going away this weekend and if you're not? I got to know”. “How much do you want”.

I say, six stamps - sixteen pounds!!!. If we are going away- I?don’t need any more beer. There’s twenty pounds?in my pocket. I lie- I did extra work this week, I’ll pay you back.
Promise…- You know I will.

It made me feel good.
More alcohol, six stamps. A letter, with few poems
" It's over two thousand pounds now you owe me” and “its added on”.
I was certain that I would be rejected.

Details | David Gale Poem

First Love

The phone was attached within the hallway of the house, she told me “We need to talk about something important”, “it’s so important that we need to meet”.
On the middle of the bridge in Thornhill, travelling to school, “I don’t know how to tell you, but I have an STI”. Her mother confirmed it as they had been to the clinic together, it was from me. “It’s ok as my mum and I have sorted it out.”, “better get yourself checked now.”

We had been together for six years, she was bi-sexual, but I didn’t know what that meant. On the bridge I knew that I was dirty, never learnt to wash, I could not even afford my own clothes, but the wind was blowing in my face. “We can work it out”, again “as my mum knows.”.

I forever apologised for two further years. She was my first girlfriend, my first love and they only one I knew. She was the first girl with an imagination.

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We Were Playful

I have a mixed diagnosis after trying to kill myself, aged sixteen. Just after six months in hospital,

“I’m worse now “, “Than when I went in”, “I had clean arms back then.”
“I ran away from my parents; they called the police”, “I phoned home during the night as I got scared”. “Things are better today, no PRN” and “I stopped drugs, sleeping around, I have now started knitting”. 
We laughed together.

My story, -I’m a drunk. -A womaniser.

She added “I think you lie more than anyone I know! Apart from the girl, who lied about a brain tumour?”. However, I was drinking at 9am. I gave her half-truths while continuing to lie. She gave me her number. “Together we have more problems than you know.” 
We laughed even more.

Details | David Gale Poem

I Got My Pennies Worth By Saying No

There’s a five pence piece in my pocket, it means nothing to me.
It’s an object that shouldn't be there, but with someone else or somewhere.

In my pocket! Forgotten.
Like the growing old colourless material on me.

The five pence piece makes me feel smaller than normal, giving no impression that I'm doing well.

As leaning over the toilet seat, as bent slate or like the nickel-plated being.
It’s getting closer to my piss and stained trousers with sick.

The argument resulted in a shortage of thinking.

I am alone with another woman (Elizabeth) but for the moment she is warmer and kinder.

I needed to lay down for a long time.