Tag: life

poetry

~ Do Not Enter ~

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~ Do Not Enter ~

In the haunted house of my heart
Broken piano keys play their own melody
And the clocks tick relentlessly out of rhythm.

There once was a home
A place of warmness and being
Where happy souls sat around fires in winter
And played on green lawns in the summer.

But now the grass grows long and wild
The ashes of the fire litter the floor
And the floorboards creak in ruin.

Life has deserted this one
Through the toil of the years
Being bled dry by experience
And the failed endeavours
Of deluded and wasted feeling
That strip away slowly at the soul.

I exist now like so many others
Living and walking relics
Occupying a place and wondering
What this life has done to me
To leave me standing but broken
Lying at the end of the street.

Still, I don’t completely collapse
As I hold onto this space inside
Waiting for it to be filled
To carry the weight of love and joy
As light fills this home once more.

But the years go on
And the silence remains
No sound of joy to be heard
Just whispers in the hallways
The ghost of something 
That cannot no longer be.

thoughts

~ Self-Love ~

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~ Self-Love ~

Be kind to yourself. I know it’s easy to do the opposite; to constantly compare yourself to others, to think you’re not good enough, and wallow in your own issues. But one day you’re going to see that you’ve been fighting your fight as best you could; and, in the end, a lot of things you worried about didn’t matter anyway. You can’t control many things in this life, but you can control your attitude towards yourself. So why not love yourself unconditionally? Take a bit longer in the shower when you need to. Use as much gels and creams as you like. Savour the taste of a well-made coffee. Allow yourself to smile at the passing dogs, at the lovers walking hand in hand, at the rays of sun bursting through the clouds. Drink in the goodness of the world that is always there, if only you keep your eyes open to that instead of letting a fog of thought make you blind to your surroundings. You’re doing as good as you can, and the harder you are on yourself, the more you forget that just being alive itself is a complete wonder and marvel. And you are those things too. Just look in the mirror and gaze into the depth of your complicated eyes. Tell me there isn’t a magic there – billions of years of universal evolution manifested in a beautiful human-being. Isn’t it about time you saw that? Isn’t it about time you allowed yourself to be happy with the person you are?

thoughts

~ The Way of the Seasons ~

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~ The Way of the Seasons ~

It was the start of October and I was sitting in the garden on a sunny morning, trying to soak in some of that last warmth before the winter came. The dying leaves fell around me and I watched one float from side to side, twirling down before finally landing on the grass beneath my feet. I looked at it for a second, admiring its golden flames. Then I saw a wasp. It was crawling beside the leaf and eventually crawled on top of it. I was expecting it to get up and fly away, but it just stayed there on the dying leaf for a while, before eventually carrying on stumbling through the grass. It quickly became obvious to me that the wasp was dying too. Summer was over, and this lawn was a battlefield with the last remaining survivors. I then turned to look at the table beside me. I had my laptop with me and I could see my reflection on the screen. Thirty-years-old, I could see myself ageing rapidly before my eyes. The forehead lines were more prominent than ever, and my eyes looked tired and defeated. This is the way of the seasons, I thought to myself. Death and decay were inevitable and I looked back at the wasp and felt a comradeship with the dying creature. Our fate was the same. We were all staggering through life, falling to the floor, being made weaker and weaker before finally finding a suitable place to die.

poetry

~ Savage ~

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~ Savage ~

I am a wild man
There is no kidding myself anymore
No pretending that I’m going be straightened out
And put on some suit and settle down
Into a life of stability and sanity. 

I wasn’t made for that
And I think that’s okay
There are others who do that well
And lord knows I once gave it a shot
But those periods of routine didn’t last long
As the inescapable truth gradually emerged:

That I am a wild man
And I am only truly myself
When I stand outside of this farm
Living a life that many would call chaotic
And perhaps even pity.

But one’s man trash is another man’s gold
And this wayward life of mine
Well, it fulfils my soul
As I live by my own rhythm
Going from job to job
Residing in random rooms
Where I sit writing my books
And dreaming up my next escapade
As my heart laughs in raw freedom.

That freedom is that of the wild man
Who cannot be rid of his nature
And lives in tune with his inner voice
Not tamed by other’s opinions
Or a follower of predetermined paths
But rather runs dangerously free
In a place that is definitely not everyone

But is for me.

poetry

~ A Breakthrough ~

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~ A Breakthrough ~

I think I’ve finally done it
And broken through to the other side
I see with a clarity I’ve only read about
Each step forwards takes me nowhere different
I’m not an isolated being lost in the universe
I am a piece of the entire thing happening
My actions are the result of some higher energy
That runs through everything I see around me
The wings of the birds belong to the same body
The stars in the sky come from the same source
Each one shimmering majestically
And in that fire is the same heat in my heart
As it beats in tune with everything else
Causing me to look around me like a new-born baby
My eyes shining as they process how beautiful it all is
How trivial my concerns were
And how very wonderful it is 
To be alive.

poetry

~ Not for Me ~

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~ Not for Me ~

Where is your soul man
I wonder as I listen to your words
And watch you judging me
Despite not even knowing me
You don’t listen to my reply
As you bark on about yourself
Telling me how great you are
And then shitting on me
Because you make more money
And have different goals.

Don’t you see how ugly you have become?
Your face is mangled and distorted
If only you could see it under the right light
With the right instrument
You’d be able to see how damaged you are
And that maybe you are not as great as you think
But deep down I suspect you already know that
As you bark out your stale beliefs
Declaring of your greatness while high on drugs
Trying to make me guess how much you earn.

I hope one day you will sober up
And your voice will go quiet
So you can finally hear the inner voice 
That you have tried to drown out all these years
And you will discover how poor you really are
As you face that Monday morning mirror
On another comedown at work
Back to your life that you need to escape from
As the truth weighs down on you,

That you’re a bad person.

poetry

Round Twelve

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~ Round Twelve ~

Beaten
Punched out
On the canvas
Life hitting harder than ever
And you fight to get up again
But this time, the thousandth time,
You finally begin to feel the futility
As you think back to all the struggle
The seeming eternity of this constant battle
As the crowd stands watching
And you contemplate finally succumbing
Letting yourself fade away under the lights
Feeling the heaviness of your heart
Battered and bruised
But, somehow, still beating its blood
That life force still flowing through you
As you take a deep breath
And feel a new surge of energy
That makes you stand once again to your feet
Delirious and even crazier than before
Not the same person anymore
Worn down, reshaped
And doing whatever it takes
To stay in the fight
And find some strength from somewhere
As you move forward back into it
To face the punches
Once again.

poetry

~ A Loss of Fire ~

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~ A Loss of Fire ~

Maybe I’m just dry of inspiration
Or maybe what I feared is finally happening:
My soul is slowly starting to die
As I begin to somehow fit into this world
A little more smoothly
And the sentences that leave my mouth
Are a little more normal.

I always wondered if the day would come
Where that fire inside would dwindle
Before finally flickering out.

To other’s eyes I would probably seemed fixed
There would be no more rage
No more snarling or biting
The monkey finally off my back.

But inside I would be missing something
No expression existing anymore
No madness keeping me awake at night
No need to run off into the forest fires.

A stable mind without the need to write poetry
Is probably what constitutes most happy minds.

But having tasted the magic
How could this life ever be as glorious
As it was when I was young and full of heartache
Hanging onto words to stop myself
From going insane.

How could this life ever be as glorious
For when I fought my way through hell
As my inner song rang out
Of every part of my body.

Yes, a part of me says
I’m not sure I want to be straightened out
Or mentally stable
A speaker of sane words.

Stability is a dull ride
And I’d rather my spirit soar
And the wheels on my vehicle burst into flames
As I keep on racing towards an unreachable horizon.

I’d rather awaken in strange places
With my body battered
But my soul laughing 
At surviving yet another storm.

I’d rather stand under a night sky
Haunted and confused
While feeling a sense of wonder
That only sadness can evoke.

Yes, the day these words finally end
And I don’t even feel the burning desire
I’ll know that I’ll have finally let the fire be snuffed out
And this life will never give me
The same heat again.

poetry

~ After the Storm ~

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~ After the Storm ~

And here I am stand on the shore
Drying out in the sun
I’ve found my way through the storm
Back into the gentle light
Of peace and tranquillity.

I fought through the violent waves
And felt my soul being drowned
I contemplated what it was to go
Letting myself be consumed
And pulled into the abyss.

The monsters encircled
The light dwindled
And my mind dissipated 
But something within me knew
That I’d find my way back
Emerging like the dawn light on the ocean
To see this world awakening again
As blue skies burst with potential.

This is the story of a survivor
Standing on the shores of salvation
Laughing at the passing of the storm
At the seasick joy in his heart
And the footprints in the sand
Disappearing in the waves
As the transience of the tide
Creates a blank canvass
To begin beautifully
Again.

poetry

~ The Great Dance ~

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~ The Great Dance ~

It comes from somewhere
I know not where
But this voice inside me
Sings some universal spirit
Channelling the cosmos
As I pour words onto pages
And feel the fire of the stars
Burning in my fingertips
While looking around me
Watching the birds fly in a sunset sky

Somehow they, too, are apart of what’s happening
All this nature working together
Like one giant organism
Those sparrow wings fluttering
Those clouds drifting in the sky
Those waves crashing on shorelines

It’s all working together in some complete way
And I surrender myself to this harmony
Knowing it is not me writing anymore
There is no conscious creator
It’s just the universal flow
That causes everything bright and beautiful
Like those immense patterns of colour
Just as that sun begins to hit the horizon
And ignites the sky into a fiery red
While the song of the birds rings out
And I imagine some native tribe singing
Somewhere in some distant land
On the other side of the ocean
Everyone singing in unison
Dancing with their naked feet
Upon this earth.

This is the great law of energy
And accept this poem as person singing
As another ocean wave crashing
As another bird flapping its wings
As another cloud drifting in the sky
And then continue on your own day
And join in the cosmic dance.

You, too, are apart of this.