Tag: art

poetry

~ Thawing Out ~

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~ Thawing Out ~

My bones like bare branches
Shake and shiver in the wind
That runs through my body

This internal winter is howling
As the wolves encircle me
As the frost forms upon my leaves
As mountainous horizons surround me

It seems like spring isn’t coming
Maybe it doesn’t happen anymore

To go on and endure
Is now all that I can do
Searching for some warmth in the wilderness
To sustain this soul

Oh, what this life can do to a person
To leave them wandering in a space
Where the kindest eyes can’t see
And loving words not reach.

I’m not dead
But I’m stuck somewhere
Where the moonlight doesn’t inspire me
Where music doesn’t resonate
And even this poetry
Doesn’t do much anymore.

There is nothing to do but wait
And look for signs of life
Some sunlight coming forth
From the clouds of discontent
To burst the buds from my branches
And thaw out my frozen spirit
That sits waiting for the touch 
Of something it has almost
Forgotten.

thoughts

~ Ragged Beings ~

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~ Ragged Beings ~

“You fell asleep in my arms last night and I allowed myself to dream. In my tired mind drifted ideas of a life of peace and comfort. Of love and reason. It was all there within touching distance. I have wandered long in the wilderness and my soul is full of strange things. I am not sure such things should be carried into your life. I have a mind full of madness and a heart ravaged by the thorns. I’m a wounded creature and I felt like some sort of stray animal in the warmth of your embrace, tasting those kisses that perhaps even heal me slightly from all I’ve known and faced. I think you too have known turbulence and trouble, but perhaps not on the same level. I do not know whether I am right for you, or anyone at this point, but there is undeniable beauty and a feeling of joy in that bed as dawn comes. The sunlight comes through the window as I watch you smiling with your eyes still closed. Your dog lays beside the bed looking at me. His eyes share a knowing look. What am I and he but two ragged beings taken in by the love of a woman, wrapped up in the covers of companionship, searching for some shelter from the unrelenting storm of this crazy life.”

thoughts

~ Simple Joy ~

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~ Simple Joy ~

“I can’t force it. And I won’t force it. If it takes me ten years to write my next book, then so be it. All the effort of trying has escaped me. I’m happy – happy to let the streams flow and the clouds drift and buds blossom at their own pace. I’ve reached a point of total contentment with the natural course of things. All the nagging voices of teachers and parents have long but left my mind. I never cared for jumping through their hoops and I’m happy to have found inner peace at a relatively young age. I’m happy to sit and meditate; to write a couple of poems a week; to run the same track along the river continuously. I understand that I may not be seen as ambitious, but that’s okay. I believe there is a rare joy in my heart that will never be experienced by those millionaires who sit in mansions counting their money. Oh, what a thing it is to realise you are the maker of your own happiness; that life is simple and not complicated at all. It’s certainly saved me a lot of trouble and toil. It may have even saved my life. And now this life has been saved, I intend to live it totally in line with my inner flow. Right now that inner flow tells me to stop writing these words. It tells me to look up from my laptop and outside my bedroom window. The sun is setting and its last rays of light are beaming through the trees. The birds sing their song as they hop from branch to branch. Excuse me, I’ve got something I need to see. Excuse me, I’ve got some happiness to feel.”

poetry

~ Into Your Eyes ~

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~ Into Your Eyes ~

Into your eyes, I fall
Hurtling through space
Out there beyond the ether of my ordinary reality
There is no connection to ground control
No light to guide me back safely.

Into your eyes, I fall
Forgetting my name
My country, my language
Whatever the hell it is
I’m supposed to be.

Into your eyes, I fall
And become a drunken sailor
Out on some endless ocean
Where the waves leave me seasick
With the thought of ever losing you.

Into your eyes, I fall
And feel myself become someone
Who stares at the sky
And birds sat on branches
While feeling some kind of magic.

It’s a crazy thing
And the sensible thing to do
Would be to look away
And not keep getting lost
In this strange and surreal dream.

But the dream is just too good
So into your eyes, I fall
And imagine future days
With you by my side.

Into your eyes, I fall
And feel myself become apart
Of something larger than myself.

Into your eyes, I fall
And feel my walls
Come crashing down.

And into your eyes, I fall
To accept that I won’t be
The same person
Anymore.

poetry

~ Finally ~

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~ Finally ~

Here she is, finally
Standing before me
Something I only ever dreamt of
In some deluded way
During times of darkness
And defeat.

A quiet humbleness comes over me
Like standing before a natural force
With a depth and beauty
I just can’t understand.

I always felt about the age of thirty
I’d stop my rampage
And meet the woman
Who would finally straighten me out.

Dylan called it ‘shelter from the storm’
And it certainly feels that way
As the warmth of her 
Causes puddles of pain
To form at my feet.

In the morning I lie with her in bed
Her dog lays beside it
His head rested on the carpet 
Eyes staring up at me
With a knowing look of recognition.

I say goodbye, kiss her
Walk out into the day
And suddenly things are different
The little things don’t matter
Trivial troubles are nothing.

I smile and say hello to the people I pass
I hold the shop door open for the person behind me
Everything is okay;
Life is not so bad after all.

I know that this feeling probably won’t last
But for now, it’s enough
To know that a single soul can shine so brightly
Like sunlight coming through the forest canopy
Breathing life into my world
Blooming my flowers
Turning me into a dreamer

And if this is just another delusion
Then let me stay deluded
For my world has never looked so good
Now that I know
She’s in it.

poetry

~ Shackled ~

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~ Shackled ~

Like a seabird in oily water
Or a turtle stuck in plastic
I want to rise up from this mess
And break free from this muck
That the world has poured onto me

I know these wings can flap
I know my soul can sing
And that my spirit can soar
Into skies of light and life

But here I am:
Caught like the rest
Cemented down and
Starved of something essential

I have become like so many on these streets
Trapped in an unfulfilling life
Weighed down by something silent
No longer hunting what is mine
Or doing what comes natural

Now I sit in traffic jams
And stare at electronic screens
Now I collect my prey in plastic
Packaged for me on supermarket shelves

Now getting out of bed in the morning
Seems like a pointless task.
And my greatest endeavour
Is buying discounted food.

God, give me some wilderness once more
Give me the sunlight rising over the mountains
Give me the sound of rain on the forest canopy
Give me the eagle circling high above the canyon

Just give me something pure
And untamed
To awaken my soul
Loosen my shackles
And bring me back home
To myself.

poetry

~ This Burning Mess ~

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~ This Burning Mess ~

I wanna write from a place where no one else has been before
I want to pour forth new truths that could have only come from me
I don’t have time for words that don’t mean anything
I’m not here to put down more scripted sentences

I’m here to speak my truth
To scream and shout
And share something in my soul
That little bit of unique fire burning
Only the way it can within me

It is fueled by all my pains and mistakes
By all my victories and defeats
And I want it to blaze bright
Showing the light
Of all my life has been

This burning brilliant mess.

poetry

~ Resigned to the Fact ~

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~ Resigned to the Fact ~

Well, I guess this is it:
Thirty-one-years-old
All grown now
Fully-developed
The soul-searching done
I know who I am.
The result is in

And what is it that I am?

It’s not a lot.
It’s not a lot at all.

No useful skills
No place of belonging
No way of living sustainably
No chance of mental stability

It’s nothing but chaos
Frequent episodes of insanity
And spells of disillusionment
That leave me holding onto the rails
As life’s hurricane rips me apart

It’s not some momentary feeling
I’ve lived enough years now to know
That I’m always gonna be this way
Shifting from one crisis to the next
From one battle to the next
From one bender to the next

Yes, periods of peace shall occasionally arrive
There will be moments of contentment
Even times when I feel happy to be alive

But they won’t last long.
They won’t last long at all.

Because I know who I am now.
I’ve lived the years and walked the walk
And this is what I’ll have to deal with:
Some sort of malfunctioning mistake
Stumbling and staggering along
Fighting to survive.

I guess the first thing I should do is accept it
But I can’t help but feel
Disappointed, dejected
And even angry inside

This isn’t how it should be.

I wanted to live life
Not deal with it
Or cope with it
Or find ‘a way to get by’

I wanted to live life.

I wanted to live.



poetry

~ And What Are You Scared Of ~

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~ And What Are You Scared Of? ~

Scared that my life will become pointless
That my soul will be diluted down
My mind filled with garbage
And my words lacking in truth

Scared that nothingness will become my reality
That the mirror reflection will be empty
My eyes devoid of light
My heart shrouded in greyness

Scared that the bastards will win
And make me one of their own
And the wilderness in me
Will be paved over
Ground down
Drained of its colour

Each year I can feel that concrete creeping
The bulldozers doing their damage
My curiosity fading
My leaves being stripped away

There is a helplessness about me these days
The vigour of youth has escaped me
My inner voice remains silent
Even my madness begins to fade

And I’m scared…

Scared that these words will run out
And everything good in me will die
As my body becomes an empty vessel

Scared that I’ll grow old
And no longer see the beauty
Sense the magic
Nor feel the wonder

Scared not of pain or torture
Nor of death or darkness
But scared of existing
And breathing the air
And beating my heart
And waking up each day

While no longer being alive.

thoughts

~ The Hidden Cracks ~

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~ The Hidden Cracks ~

‘Appearances can be deceiving, so they say. And you look at those cities from above and what do you see? You see everything standing straight and upright. Everything is organised, cemented down, and fixed into its correct place. There is a perfectly-engineered quality to it all. But appearances can be deceiving and in those neatly-lined houses what do you find? You find people. You find people who are not as strong and sturdy as the cities they live in. You find people who are slowly breaking down, disintegrating, being held together by the smallest things; little vices that get them through each day without collapsing. Drugs. Alcohol. Therapy. Violence. Many of those people on the surface, just like those cities, look stable on the surface. Their clothes are neat, their shoes polished, and their hair straight. But take a careful look and you’ll often see the hidden cuts and cracks behind those shiny appearances. Open your eyes and you’ll see the self-harm scars of the girl serving you coffee in the cafe; you’ll see the trembling hand of the alcoholic businessman on the train; you’ll see the bloodshot eyes of the smiling mother at the school gates. Wipe off the makeup of the modern world and you’ll see that under its surface, many people are slowly crumbling under the pressure of it. Every day the slow demolition of many people’s souls is happening all around us. Meanwhile, the city stands strong; the traffic lights flick from red to green, the bins are emptied, everything is in order and running smoothly. But as this civilisation continues to do its thing, a continual sickness pervades among its populace. This empire of sand is somehow held together by hoards of people suffering in whatever way imaginable. From one week to the next, they are slowly going on while dealing with their demons, fighting their battles, journeying through their darkness. In workplaces. In homes. In spaces so lonely that even with a million people around them, they still feel like they’re marooned on some distant planet.’