Biography of David Lacey
'We don't read and write poetry because it's cute, we read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.' - Dead Poet's Society
Born in Middlesbrough, North East England. I studied Art, Philosophy and Classical Civilization at college, all of which have had an influence on my work in various mediums. I went on to study Contemporary Fine Art practice at York St John University after a year failing miserably at being a Theology student.
I now reside in Newcastle upon Tyne playing mandolin and guitar in the infamous Laundry Basket and doodling away the days in an office dreaming of the time when I can live from ink and paints alone.
I explore themes of mind, consciousness and exploration of inner spaces alongside narratives of folklore and mythic structure. Symbols hold great meaning for all of us, each as unique as a fingerprint in their correspondences to each and everyone. As an artist I enjoy learning from and developing the relationships various symbols hold in our hearts and minds.
I hope to one day own a spacious studio space where I can fling inks, write and paint to my hearts content.
I also hope people enjoy my poetry and if not enjoy it then at least to question it and give it a moments thought. Sometimes I look back and have to unwrap the riddles I have left myself. I hope the symbols and stories found within can be to people something individual to themselves.
Some of my poetry becomes lyrics for my music some of which can be found at https: //soundcloud.com/david_lacey and also by typing my name into Youtube.
Images of my artwork can be viewed at
David Lacey Poems
Memory Slips As Memory Fades
Alas I know not where to go, for all the places I know, I've been. Alas I have been shown not where to go nor can I remember all I've seen. Memory slips as memory fades as shades they flip exposed to flames.
Sleep Well Angel Sweetness
Sleep well angel sweetness Find your place in dreams Keep well within your mind That nothing's as it seams.
Seek Your Knowledge In Observation.
Seek your knowledge in observation. Know friendship to be the truest bond of all, Near perfect is Love platonic in essence. Within nature perceive the friendship of all,
A Pastel Pink And Lilac Sky
Sink with yourself. Think. Seek within yourself. Sink. A pastel pink and lilac sky Cast a spell of mellow moods.
Moon child Born wild Never to be tamed. Monsoon child
Journey Santiago Discover in your search A land in Love with mystery It’s not far out of reach
A Fool In Love
A swollen heart of infected blues weeps un-sleeping throughout the nightmare, I feel unworthy of affection, as though I walk without direction, Always searching for an answer to the questions that lay forever undefined. All around me is chaos spinning within a churn of emotion, yet I am stationary,
A Botanical Bounty
A botanical bounty concealed within chasmed beauty, Bound in primeval anticipation, Fingers grow furious in their grasp As the poet dreams of the poet Queen, The poets dreams begin to lapse. Evocative in duration, incantations of sedation, meditation, masturbation
Sensation penetration, a diversion at the best of times, At worst a crime of violent colours, as shadows feed, As shades parade, breeding upon the insomnia of the sun. Hoping as they prayed his time was done, yet here he comes
A Truth Beyond Compromise.
She bears the emblem of the crescent moon upon her chest Sinking, seeing the warmth of her bosom, I’m in need of a rest. She speaks to angels who guide her thoughts, she’s seeking All it is that mortal man hath ever sought,
Unknown souls Converse within Conversations More deranged
An Endless Deep Obscurity
All is one within the sky As every bird is free All is one within the eye That allows us truth to see
Voices From Amongst The Trees
Around me fall the autumn leaves Within our hearts the future breathes Voices from amongst the trees Tell of freedom un-foretold.
Dancing Within A Circle Of Choice
Here I am at one within my shell Here I am at once Heaven and Hell Night and Day
Patrician dames masked to avoid the shame of offering,
They parade themselves, offering pleasure for pay.
Voyeuristic energies flow strong in the blood of man and woman alike.
Each seeks a secret knowledge unknown to those left in the light, unable to see out into the darkness. These dark comedies of our suburbs watch close in observance the moving
Pictures of our life’s. Perceiving life through a silver screening, how are you ever to know
Whether or not you are dreaming?