Ryan Woods was born and raised in the North West of England, during a year that saw war continue to rage in Vietnam, and the assassination of both Martin Luther King Jnr and Robert Kennedy.
Born into a working-class family, he learned to escape into the realms of Greek Mythology, his first literary love, whilst in high school. Before long, horror, in both written and cinematic mediums, also became a form of escape for him, and began to influence the direction that his writing would gravitate towards.
Interestingly, it would be his love of horror that would spark his interest in poetry, upon reading mention of the Stéphane Mallarmé poem Hérodiade whilst reading a horror novel. Hérodiade remains one of Ryan’s favourite pieces of poetry to date.
Ryan makes no bones (pun intended) about admitting that his writing is influenced by his fascination with the macabre, and the darker side of human nature. However, though many of his poems may have a dark undertone, some of them do carry messages of hope, that all is not lost.
Ryan believes in the unwavering resilience of the human spirit, and hopes that his poetry, though sometimes dark and vitriolic, proves that horror authors are just as creative as writers of other genres.
Poems:
“Fatherhood”
Four pounds and fifteen ounces
It seems like such an inconsequential weight
But for me…it meant the world
A new life, almost snuffed out
before your tiny lungs
had taken their first breath of air…
Within a heartbeat of being
snatched away by circumstance
If fate…and angels
hadn’t intervened
Nestled in your incubator,
like a baby bird
Not fully baked,
in your maternal womb
Unable to seek comfort,
or sustenance from the bosom
Each time that I held you,
and looked into your eyes
I felt my breath catch in my chest
From pride,
or fear,
or both
And each time that I spoke to you,
my voice would quaver
Fearful that if I spoke too loud,
that if I held you too tight,
or perhaps, not tight enough;
that you might disappear,
like a figment of my imagination,
or a dream, upon waking
So small,
but so precious…
Like a diamond,
brought to the earth’s surface
during a volcanic eruption
A placental abruption
9 weeks early…
Impatience has become
a way of life for you
Eager to grow up
Eager to move on
Eager to be free
As if freedom is a choice
that any of us ever really have
The world is becoming your oyster
A kaleidoscope of endless opportunities
You see your future on the horizon,
in every colour of the rainbow
Whilst I sit and watch…
Perhaps to hail your triumphs
Or pick up the pieces
of your tragedies
Perhaps I am not the man
that I once was…
Life has a way of changing you
But my eyes
still watch over you like a hawk
And my heart still beats
like that of a lion,
just waiting to roar
at any suitor, unworthy of your hand,
when that time comes…
And it will come
I know that now
And on that day,
when I walk you down the aisle,
I shall take a deep breath…
So deep that my lungs will burn,
So deep that my chest will billow out with pride
I will hold back the tears…
Or at least I’ll try
Because in the end…
All our dreams,
All our babies
Say goodbye.
Copyright Ryan Woods 23/02/2016
“Slipknots and Razor Blades”
I stuck my neck out for you,
and in return you handed me a noose;
so, I have decided it is time
to cut you loose…
I do not want to hang with you anymore….
There’s the door.
Don’t let it hit you in the ass
as you leave.
I may have taken leave
of my senses,
jumped through hoops
and scaled fences
for you.
But, those days are gone.
You are just one,
of the many mistakes that I
have made,
for which I have paid
the price…
You fed me a slice
of reality,
and now I am sick to my stomach
of your condescending ways,
your mind games,
and your power plays…
You think that it is funny
treating me the way that you do.
But I will humour you,
no more.
You treat me like a whore,
thinking that you can fuck with me
whenever you see fit.
But now the shit
has hit the fan
and I can’t understand
how you can
be so blind
to find
me guilty
of any crime…
If I had a dime
for every time
that I allowed you
to take advantage of me,
I would be rich
beyond my wildest dreams…
It seems
that no good deed
goes unpunished,
and I am serving hard time
for mine.
You handed me down
a life sentence
when you said, “I do” …
If I only knew
then,
what I know
now.
Oh, how different things would be…
In life, there are tales to be told,
and stories to unfold,
pearls of wisdom to be learned
and bridges to be built,
or to be burned….
I am only human…
If you cut me I bleed,
and you seem to feed
on my pain.
You are a razor blade,
that leaves scars on the surface,
and deep inside.
But there is a place where I can hide,
when everything becomes too much…
Such is the beauty of my imagination.
It bears no relation
to the reality of the situation
that I find myself in…
I can be whatever I want to be.
I can be a wolf, roaming free
across an Arctic tundra…
I sit here,
and wonder,
where you would be
if I had not intervened
in the nightmare
that you once were living.
I did all the giving,
and you did all the taking.
Forsaking my trust.
Now dust,
and ghosts
are the only hosts
to the celebration
of our union.
Even a holy communion
cannot exorcise
the demons
that your lies
have created…
I waited
for love,
and hated
every minute
of what you gave
me instead.
You got inside my head,
and rearranged all the cogs,
every nut
and every bolt;
finding fault
with everything that I do,
and everything that you see…
Fool me once,
Shame on you…
Fool me twice,
Shame on me…
Copyright © Ryan Woods 02/12/2016
“Swan Song”
Shhh…
Listen…
Can you hear it?
There…in the distance,
That is the sound of our hearts
beating in unison
But it is weaker now…
so much weaker,
wounded by an ill wind
that drove a wedge between us,
like a squall racing ambitiously
across an Arctic tundra
Words that were once passed amongst us
like keepsakes;
and which created a symphony
of understanding,
now lay scattered on the ground
like empty promises
The laughter, now subdued
The tenderness that once flowed between us all
with the sweetness of caramel,
now carries a hint of the bitterness of treacle
There are poisons that blind you,
And poisons that open your eyes…
I once was lost, but now I’m found
Was blind, but now I see
We were like an orchestra once…
Harmonious
So in tune with one another
Each one a sister or brother,
by choice, if not by biology…
Art for art’s sake,
was once our theology…
But an orchestra requires a conductor
who does not consider himself more important
than the whole;
who should be creating a role model,
not a business model…
The heart and mind can be nomadic,
wandering aimlessly in search
of a place to call home…
I roamed for almost half a century,
in search of kindred spirits,
along highways of insecurity
and self-doubt;
across deserts of broken dreams
that long since turned to sand,
to finally stumble across an oasis;
only to watch as it turned into a mirage…
That has become my lot in life
So here I stand,
with history repeating itself;
wondering
“Where did I go wrong?”
So, this shall be my Swan Song…
My lament…
My farewell to arms…
Lucky charms
and four leaf clovers,
never granted me good fortune
Save for the friendships forged from the love of words,
the dream has once more turned into aNightmare
I care,
for each and every one of you
Wherever you go from here
Whatever you do
Know that a piece of me will go with you
It will live on in the times that we shared,
and the words that we dared
to challenge ourselves with
Take care…
Be well…
Keep punching…
Keep on, keeping on…
It’s time to pack my bags once more
Poetry; my paramour,
will be my companionon this journey
It’s the end of the line for me
The night train to Valhalla
has pulled into the station,
and I’ve got a ticket to ride…
Farewell my friends,
for right or wrong;
this will be my Swan Song.
Copyright Ryan Woods 17/06/16
“Night Train to Valhalla”
The troubled teenagers sat uneasy in their chairs,
looking down at the ground…
Not one of them wanted to stare
at the person stood before them
Not one of them made a sound
What could he tell them,
that they hadn’t already been told?
But sit they did,
even raised their heads;
and eventually witnessed the magic unfold…
Do you like stories?
he began…
Do you?
Do you like tales of hope and glory?
Then lend me your ears
and open your hearts, and your minds
and you will find that there is magic all around
Seek and ye shall find…
Make yourselves comfortable
I’m about to start
My name is not important
Though I do play a part
in this fable
All you need to know, is that I drive the train
The night train
The night train to Valhalla…
Let me tell you a story about a lost girl
Her name was Lyric Storm,
and it fit her like a glove
Her life was a concerto of disillusionment
A maelstrom of unrequited love
and unrealised dreams
Music had been her salvation,
at least in the beginning
But before too long
she found herself swimming
in a pool of unworthiness,
drowning in her moments of mediocrity…
She was fragile…and broken,
like a fine china teacup
One that no amount of glue
or disingenuous goodwill
was ever going to stick back together again
It would hold her together for only so long,
before the cracks would reappear,
becoming scars of desolation
etched into her skin
during moments of frustration,
that coiled around her
like a razor wire strait jacket
She would carve tic-tac-toe grids into her arms
with a rusty razor blade,
because she said that she felt like a nought…
like a zero…
like a nothing
She didn’t need a hero
She just needed someone to believe in her
That’s where I came in
October 31st, 23.59
She stood on a railway platform,
staring down the line;
waiting for any train to roll in,
so that she could check out
There would be no drama
No need to shout
She never even saw me coming…
My train that is governed by no timetable
and by no physical laws,
rolled along the tracks as silently as the voice
of every bullied child,
every victim of domestic violence,
and every downtrodden minority group
that screams silently into the deaf ears
of those who won’t listen,
and came to rest alongside her…
I opened the doors,
and sensing something that she could not comprehend,
she stepped on board,
and became a Legend
You are the strays
You are the lost
Tossed away by society
Discarded like fast food wrappers
Together you are legion…
She stepped on board defeated,
and stepped off a champion…
On board, she stared at the windows
But the windows were not windows
They were T.V. screens
Each one playing scenes
of strife
in a montage of melancholy
that she called life…
Scenes from a play, wrote by her hand
and wrought from each and every breath that she had taken
while trying to understand,
and comprehend her place in the scheme of things…
So many dreams unfulfilled
So many nightmares to endure
Idle promises
dangled like a lure
in her path,
the aftermath of which
slapped her in the face
like toxic waste
But where others saw a waste of time
I saw potential,
and I showed her images
of what she could achieve
Wonders await those who believe
in themselves…
And when the screens fell silent,
you could have heard a pin drop;
and if your hearing had been fine-tuned enough
you would have heard the rustle of hairs
on the back of her neck
You would have heard the goose bumps breaking out
on her flesh
So I stand here in front of you
and offer you that same glimmer
of hope
Shimmer like a firefly
amidst a night of darkest, bitter treacle
Know that you have no equal
Your time of languishing in the shadows has ceased
Let the magic inside of you
be released
Shine with the luminosity
of a Supernova
Explode with the ferocity
of a Tsunami
Allow it to wash away all your doubt
Shout
from the rooftops
“This is my time”
“This is my design”
Do not be denied your time in the limelight
Fight for your place in the world
This is your birth-right
So make a stand
and protest at the gates of injustice,
until they succumb
like the walls of Jericho
to the fanfare of the common man…
So, arise
like the warriors that you were born to be
This is not about them…
This is not about me…
This is about you…
So rise
Rise and shine, like the champions that you are
Because you are GOLD
Copyright Ryan Woods 06/06/2016
“The Calm before The Storm”
The clock on the wall ticks staccato,
while my heart beats like a bronze automaton
The blood, sweat and tears – a visceral perfume
My shadow mocks me like a ghost
My every move mimicked
by my silhouetted counterpart
Every action met
by an equal and opposite reaction
Only this opponent does not hit back
Sometimes I wish he would
To feel the sting of my own leather,
against my own flesh
To feel the bite of my own punch,
and see
my bloodied and battered form,
slumped before me
The ultimate sacrifice…
I hear my name called,
and find myself in the arena
The music stops…the lights dim
And the square ring stands before me,
my dreams made flesh
The crowd a blur,
of noise and nonsense,
baying for blood;
Ad nauseam
I’ll give them what they want
And then some
The referee speaks,
while the judge’s watch
like Valkyries;
and I stare into my opponent’s eyes,
into his soul
I see fear and anxiety
A lamb to the slaughter
Let’s get ready to rumble
And then we are alone
Two warriors born,
of rage and war
I want to help him
I also want to kill him
I do neither,
as the bell rings;
and the dance begins
Round and round we go,
each thrust and jab,
each hook and cross
invoking a violent, balletic riposte
The seconds pass like hours
The minutes like days,
as we continue our engagement,
of agony and ecstasy
To the victor…the spoils
To the vanquished…despair
Valhalla awaits us both,
like the welcoming arms of our mother’s
Call me what you will
Boxer, pugilist, modern day gladiator
I stand proud, and I stand alone.
Copyright Ryan Woods 2015
“Snowflakes and Memories”
I raise my head skyward
And watch as snowflakes pirouette in the air
Angels of symmetry sent from above
To remind me of loved ones there
The gentle caress upon my cheek
As each snowflake brushes by
Evokes my mother’s gentle touch
And the sparkle in her eye
But that sparkle is just a memory now
Carried upon the breeze
And her voice a songbird’s lullaby
Amidst the tender winter freeze
Copyright Ryan Woods 2016
“Angels with Dirty Faces”
You are an Angel with a dirty face,
that’s what you are.
You are the meat
of deceit
that “lies”, festering
beneath the crust.
All your promises
turned to dust,
in the cold light of day…
What seemed like good intentions
gave way
to
bad memories,
that burn like a brand.
Don’t bite the hand
that feeds you
they say.
But everything had to be
your way…
“It’s my way
or
the highway”,
was your ultimatum.
You knew the words, verbatim.
You had spoken them
many times before…
So, one by one,
we chose the door
over your ego.
Easy come
Easy go…
You think you know someone,
but do you ever really know
what lies behind the mask?
If you don’t ask,
you don’t find out…
Life, sometimes; is about
learning from your mistakes.
Sometimes all it takes
is a little nudge in the right direction,
to open your eyes
and change your perception
of things…
The truth can be painful,
but it can also bring
its own kind of peace.
I never cease
to be amazed
by the games that some people play.
So, have it your way…
You planned,
and you schemed,
but I bet that you never dreamed
that this would all backfire on you…
Well, you know what to do.
Wear it, if the hat fits…
You’ve made your bed,
now it’s time to “lie” in it…
Copyright © Ryan Woods 17/10/16
