Untitled – Vincent Edward Manda

Never seen a man so poor

No conscience, no feeling,

No money equals no drinking.

Nothing to fill the emptiness

No need to close that door

For the room is empty

And there is nothing of worth left in it,

Not even a ceiling, not even a floor.


The soul has vacated and

None are left sated.


How long will this last?

He asked the dream.

Do you know what it is

To feel nothing and everything,

To feel full and empty simultaneously?

Replied the dream.


Never seen a man so poor

So full of questions

That have no answers.

Do you know what that is like?

What is it to have no floor

On which one can ground their feet?

She continued.


There is nothing to stop my soul rising into defeat.

How long do I have to fight this?

He asked again in vain.


Never seen a man so poor

So full of doubt, hopes, dreams, pain and fear

He holds everything so dear

Down to the last tear

He longs for freedom,

He no longer wants to wish for the past

Yet unwillingly be pushed into the future.

He wishes he could fill the past up differently,

Lock that door

And leave it all behind.

But the door won’t close

And the past,

Though already full,

Feels so empty…

Replied the woman in the dream.


Never seen a man so poor

He has nothing with which

He can fill an emptiness that isn’t there.


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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