Poetry - Lynn White

 Death Of My Egos At the end I’ll be dust.   Dust   and flakes   of skin and bone wrapped in long hair, teeth chattering with no voice. No sense of taste or smell. No reason. At the end I'll be impenetrable, anonymous, figments of myself with no self left, no Id,   no Ego, Alter ego,   Super ego, all will die at my end. https://intimum.eu/2026/10/25/intimum-thoughts-2027-collection-share-and-publish-your-psychology-poems/

 A Mother's Love I have spent a lifetime   trying to break away, trying to break out,   trying to find myself. Always on the edge, always on the outside, not quite a part, of it, not quite   a beatnik, or a mod,   hippy, or   punk. I was early to realise that what she wanted me to be was what she had wanted   for herself, about her, not me. I wanted to escape such love. I thought I could escape. I thought I had escaped. And I did, surely I did escape some   of it. But not all. Not enough. So even now I feel tethered. After all this time of leaving her behind,   I remain   unsure of my   own. https://intimum.eu/2026/10/25/intimum-thoughts-2027-collection-share-and-publish-your-psychology-poems/

 The Hidden Me You may find me in my words,   the ones I write or those I hide in the spaces, the hidden places between the lines, between the words that I renew each day. Maybe you’ll find me in the language of my body, but not in the practiced gestures, the performance, the masquerade that changes each day. You must slowly unpick the mask and unwrap my dreams. to find me to know who I am. Please tell me   then. I’ve been searching all my life. https://intimum.eu/2026/10/25/intimum-thoughts-2027-collection-share-and-publish-your-psychology-poems/

  The Expert Shot I’m an expert shot. I can hit a child’s head   every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a surgeon’s hand every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a young man’s balls every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a footballer’s foot every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I can do other things as well when I’m ordered and even when I’m not. This is Gaza.  https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  Performance Art He’s the last man standing. And whether comedian or statesman performance is all for the last man standing. Standing in the rubble of the city. Standing on the bodies of the dead heroes, those lions led by donkeys once again. No more laughter, no more tears, the final curtain came down on them. Hollow victory or glorious defeat it’s all the same to them. But the last man still stands, the star of the show temporarily. https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  God Given   If such a creature didn’t exist we’d have to invent it for sure. Whether Zeus or Allah, Jehovah or any of the rest, all fulfil the same   purpose. All create a framework   of behaviour, the laws of god which must be obeyed without argument, without thinking, without due process. All create a framework of rights. Some have them, others don’t. They’re god given so no argument, no thinking, needed. And all need a territory, a god given territory from the beginning of time and for evermore No argument, no thinking, god given.  https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html