Disturbed Literature

The writings of Jambo Stewart


Do you want something to get the words flowing?

I ask myself, but even that’s a lie.

If I didn’t have this, I’d be going,

Out of my mind,

Thinking too much,

Feeling too much,

Dwelling on past things that can’t be changed,

Swamped by self pity,

And angry murderous thoughts,

Kindly popping up when I find myself alone,

Waiting for a time I can return home,

But home is just a dream now,

A distant memory,

The occassional nightmare that slips in a startles me,

For all the things I’ve done, and all the things that scare me,

My monster from which I run, can’t even defend me,

Because I’ve taken to hiding behind a smokescreen.

Look deep enough and find,

The gods of Olympus,

Or any gods for that matter,

Mine was Anubis,

The god of death,

Something I feared,

Something of dread,

But my eyes are open now, I see the truth within,

There are no gods, there isn’t even sin,

Only the projections of mankind,

Personified to extremity,

Compensating for weakness, lack of control,

Crying out that we have a good soul,

Just misunderstood, and misinterpretted,

All this I forgot, when I took a few knocks,

More than a few, I hit the rocks,

So I put up a smokescreen.

I moved from place to place,

Sometimes intentional, sometimes forced,

There were those who had faith,

And some who endorsed,

The monster of my own creation.

That overcompensating creature,

A backlash of oppression,

Who would have thought, that an actor as such,

Would forget his life, and live in the script,

Engulfed by anger, at those not playing their part,

Trying to laugh through a broken heart,

And then came the green,

Such a beautiful colour,

A great state of mind,

With the tendency to smother,

Everything else.

The smokescreen.

There’s something that guides me,

When I feel alone,

The light of the moon,

She guides me home,

But it’s not a place anymore,

Just a feeling,

One I haven’t had in a long time,

One that expels the nightmares,

And the murderous thoughts,

She invites my demon to dinner,

We all reconcile,

It’s hard to believe I haven’t felt,

This good in a while,

She makes me happy,

She’s made me clean,

And she’s helped me put down,

The smokescreen.


By Jambo Stewart

The Moth and The Butterfly

This is the story of two caterpillars. Continue reading “The Moth and The Butterfly”

Reflections: A Fable

I wanted to write something simple and abstract with a direct message, a fable as such. It was a way of reflecting on certain events in my life at the time. It was around 5am, when walking a six-mile journey home after a long binge-drinking session that I thought up the idea of The Moth and the Butterfly. I penned it before passing out. Enjoy.

The Moth and the Butterfly

By Jambo Stewart

Friday Thoughts: Pragmatism vs Ideology

Over the winter, I saw a picture on a Facebook group which showed a dog in a kennel with the words underneath: Continue reading “Friday Thoughts: Pragmatism vs Ideology”

The Original Selfie

I came across that list again the other day: ’15 Selfies Taken Moments Before Death’, the one I mentioned in The South Gut reflection. It got me thinking about my travels as a younger man, when I arrived in a little Greek town named Myocopea. Continue reading “The Original Selfie”


Poetry by Jambo Stewart Continue reading “Silhouettes”

Reflections: Silhouettes

Silhouettes is a poem I wrote when feeling particularly nostalgic, about a year after moving country. Continue reading “Reflections: Silhouettes”

Friday Thoughts: Inception

© Photograph Copyright Eric May and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

This isn’t a movie review. I don’t usually write movie reviews, but every now and then there comes a film that I have to write something about. Continue reading “Friday Thoughts: Inception”

Problem Boys

John felt apprehensive staring at the varnished oak door that stood ahead. He’d been told to wait by the door by Madam Lutzier. He was awaiting his punishment for escaping the Home. Continue reading “Problem Boys”

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