“You’re an angry young man,”
That was all my uncle had to say
after reading my first book.
But I knew he wasn’t totally right
Many people had been moved by my writing
Affected to a good degree
Some expressed deep emotions
And there were even a couple who quit jobs
To go and travel.
But for others like my uncle
It didn’t resonate
Didn’t speak to them
It just came out as anger
As spit and venom
From a jaded individual
I guess some of it was anger
But I really felt
That for most of that book
I was just letting the song of my soul
Play out onto the page
But maybe he had a point
For as others read my writing
I saw that some of them liked it
But most of them
Simply distanced themselves from me
Or pretended they hadn’t read it
Or dismissed me as a nutcase.
I guess there is no way to please them all
No artist has ever been universally adored
And what is singing to some
Is screaming to others
And that’s why I always think twice
When I listen to the birds
“But what is it you want to DO?” he asked me
It was a friend’s stepdad
In a bar over Christmas
One of those middle-class types
With the flash car and hot wife
I looked into his eyes
And thought about answering the question properly
To tell him about all my heart’s urges
About my crazy dreams
And existential desires
But of course, I knew
He would only understand an answer
That came in the form of a job role
These people often come up to me
They see me: a young man
Someone who speaks well
And even went to university
Surely he must be doing something with his life
For me, I was doing something
I was doing The Thing Of following my heart
Travelling the world
Writing my poetry
And searching for the essence
Of what life was about
But it seemed that these things
Were not things
To people who measured life
By job titles and bank balances
God, maybe I really am crazy, I thought
Maybe I should just give up this crusade
Get a regular job
Become like that man
Tell people how I work in finance or something
How things are going well
Which holidays I’ve got booked
And what shows I’ve been watching on Netflix
But another part of me, says no, fuck it
I will not be ground down like the rest
I will not extinguish my fire
I will keep my shape
And stay true to who I am
And when they ask me what I do
I will look them in the eye
And tell them all the wonderful things I do
With a smug sense of pride
Maybe you don’t think your voice matters
Maybe you think that you’re just another person
With nothing of any value to say
And this is exactly
What they want you to think
But know that every person on this planet has a unique perspective,
That can be a source of treasure to others
But as we grow up the noise of society intensifies
And many of us begin to believe that our feelings are wrong.
So we learn to silence our inner voice
Out of the fear of judgment and ridicule.
But think about the people who inspired you.
They were once in the same position
Of questioning whether they wanted to share their truth
Before finally discovering
That their emotions and their feelings
Were just as important as any news broadcast
Or school textbook.
So if you can feel something inside trying to get out
Then have the courage to open up.
Write your poetry.
Sing your song.
Dance your dance.
Speak your truth.
“One day in this life you realise you are infected with the condition of being an outsider. The symptoms are revealed to you gradually. As you walk the neighbourhoods of normality you realise your heart yearns for something else. Stability and security only give you a feeling of sadness. You have no interest in the contract of life offered to you. As you stare at the rows of houses and green lawns and shiny cars, as you look up uninterested at career ladders before you, as you stare wistfully into space in the supermarket queue, you gradually begin to realise that something isn’t quite right about it all. Every ounce of your being rejects the things you were told to desire. What gives you fulfilment simply isn’t available in their stores or on their menus. You have no interest in material riches or status. Their television shows and newspapers are toxic poison to your mind. You are allergic to their conventions and expectations. The suits and ties don’t fit you. What is important to them, to you seems utterly meaningless and trivial. In your world adventure and exploration and art rank above all else. Yes, accept it: you have the alien madness – the condition of being an outsider. You are infected. Do not trouble to even try and cure yourself, it will only make you worse. No, no, no: forget the therapists, forget the sensible advice, forget trying to fit into a society which doesn’t fit you. Do not trouble yourself. Here is what you shall do:
Let the infection take over. Let your eyes become bloodshot with blinding passion. Let your skin be shed, let your soul be set on fire – let that heart of yours become filled with poetry and madness. This is it: you were never one of them anyway, and the sooner you accept you never will be, the more powerful your mutant soul will become. You will liberate yourself from society and walk those streets with a rare strength and joy – a feeling of freedom not known or understood by those who define themselves in groups. The world around you will glisten with magic – you will see things they can’t see; do things they can’t do; go places they can’t go. You will attract strange glances and stares – sometimes in secret admiration, sometimes in fear. You will terrify some and inspire others beyond belief – and as the infection spreads further, you will grow stronger and stronger – fiercer and fiercer. Nothing will be able to hinder you. Things like isolation and rejection will only fuel your desire further. No cage or poacher will be able to capture your wild heart. You will be unstoppable like a storm; you will be impenetrable like a mountain. You will live the life of a fearless adventurer and go to the grave knowing that your life was lived with absolute fullness. The flowers around your grave will blossom with an exotic beauty; the birds will sing songs about your adventures at your headstone. You will have been totally consumed by your passion. You will have stayed happily infected till the end of your days. You will have died knowing that this world could never find a cure for your beautiful madness.”
~ A Storm from Within ~
“It takes courage to be yourself. It takes courage to walk your own path. It takes courage to pursue the life you truly desire and not the one expected of you. Too often you will be surrounded by those who want to see you fail; by those who will seek to pull you back into the darkness in which they dwell because your breaking free causes them to reflect on their own choices and limitations. Throughout the ages of human history the mavericks and pioneers and dreamers have faced such a challenge when liberating themselves from cultural conformity and convention. Many are tamed and return to the safe farm of normality with their dreams and desires slowly gathering dust in dark, forgotten corners. Many let those voices of fear and doubt also infect and infest their own minds. It’s no easy feat to break free from the mould to live a life of total authenticity and personal truth, but there will be ways to stay strong to who you truly are as you walk the path through the wild to the shores of your destiny. Stuff your skull full of madness; overload your heart with passion; summon a storm from deep within your soul. Shake some windows, rattle some walls – let the words of your heart rain down mercilessly upon the blank pages of the world. Don’t apologise for the mess and madness. Let your spiritual thunder awaken this world into life.
Let your soul’s lightning ignite the darkness of the night.”
“The words of mockery came at me and I realised at that point I had broken through to a new realm. People’s thoughts and opinions of me no longer had any power over my emotions. I was my own man, and it struck me how blessed I was to be able to live life without striving for social validation. So many people secretly craved to live life not controlled by worries of what others thought of them. It was no easy thing to do after all. We are all social beings that thrive on others’ acceptance, and it truly takes a bit of insanity to overcome this aspect of human nature. And the bigger the crowd you have to fit into, the more of your own individuality you will have to sacrifice. This is why the true individual thrives on his or her solitude. It’s in that uncorrupted space where the noise of society fades away. It’s in that space where the inner voice is heard, new perspectives realised, and art created. This space becomes more addictive the longer you spend in it, and when you return to the crowd and see the masks being worn and the social game being played, you will inevitably only crave to avoid it as much as you can. Solitude becomes a way of protecting your unique essence. And maybe people will think you’ve gone crazy, but you simply won’t care as you know that you have discovered the great secret – the secret that learning to not be dependent on others’ approval is the key to a life of personal truth, authenticity, integrity, and freedom.”
~ The Crazy Ones ~
“Always the crazy ones were discussed with hidden interest. Some were mocked outright, and others were affectionately referred to with lines like “she’s a bit different” or “he’s a bit out there”. Whatever the case, it seemed most people had a subconscious fascination for the alternative mind. People would stand back and observe them as if they were a rare species – some kind of exotic bird with pink feathers. Mostly they fascinated me because they were the creatures who had jumped the fences of normality; they were the ones who hadn’t subscribed to the current version of sanity which helped us all enjoy small-talk down the pub. To me that was a liberating quality I couldn’t help but envy. Without being shepherded on the farm of conventional thought, you were free to invent yourself and be whatever you wanted to be. And what was more desirable than that? In a world that said the winners were the rich people, or the famous people, or the good-looking people, to me it was the crazy ones – the people living life on their own terms – who were life’s greatest success stories.”
“There seems to be a constant unspoken truth that pervades our culture, so please allow me to go ahead and just say it. Some of us were just not born for the norm. We have spirits that don’t fit into suits; we have passions that do not translate to job roles; we have desires that cannot be fulfilled by any product. We normally share the same story: we grew up feeling out of place with everything and everyone. We were in conflict with society due to its nature to try and shape us into something we were not. And we often have to bite our tongue as we sit quietly in groups. Well for once listen up and take a moment to hear our voice: we see the world a little differently to you, we have different priorities, and many of us would choose death before drifting through a life that did not truly fulfil our souls. It is because of this nature why we do the things we do. Whether it’s running fifty miles in one day, or travelling the world in a van, or writing poetry books – we do these things because we must do them. And I don’t know if I speak for all the other misfits, but I for one will not keep apologising for being the person I am. Yes, to many I know I may be a little strange and crazy – but god, if I hadn’t turned into what I am now, I would have long ago kicked the bucket. The life I am living is the one I must, and it is the same for every eccentric dreamer you know in your life. So please, get used to us and make room for the dreamers, make room for the artists, make room for the crazy ones.
A brain overcharged by absurdity; a soul starving for something real. Another day of menial work and superficial interaction had left me craving a space of solitude. Like I had so many times before, I took myself up to that hill that overlooked my hometown. Standing above that urban expanse with its rows and rows of streets sprawled out before me, I cast my gaze outward and watched the city lights shimmering in the night. There they were: the flames of humanity flickering in the abyss of the universe; the human race floating through space, going about its transient existence. I stood there for a while and absorbed the sight. From the outside looking in, I thought of all those people living in those houses, walking those sidewalks, staring into those televisions and bathroom windows. I thought of the families at dinner tables, the lovers entwined on sofas, the friends laughing together in the bars and clubs and restaurants.
In that moment a great feeling of isolation crashed over me. In vivid detail, I began to realise just how much I was cut adrift, floating uncontrollably further and further away from those shores of human belonging. And no matter how I looked at it, there seemed to be no way to pull or anchor myself back in. It had always been this way from a young age it seemed. The times I tried to fit myself into the herd had torn and twisted me up beyond repair. I simply didn’t understand my fellow species, or any of their customs. I didn’t understand the conventions. I didn’t understand the expectations and traditions. I didn’t understand why everyone wanted to be the same rather than live a life true to themselves. It was all a great mystery to me: the jobs, the media, the school-system, the paperwork, the small-talk, the religions – the monotonous routine. It seemed that I was allergic to it all. In my most desperate times, I did try to fake it, but like an undercover alien with a bad cover story, it was never long before people cast their looks of bewilderment upon me, before they realised that I was not one of them – that I was an intruder.
It’s not that the situation of isolation was completely soul-destroying, of course. There was a great joy to be found in sailing your own ship, in walking your own path and getting lost among your own mountains of madness. Often I felt great pleasure in not being labelled and closed in to some sort of box of limitation. There was a sort of freedom that many people never got to taste, let alone fully explore. But still despite that, I was burdened with the situation of being a human-being, and like all human-beings I needed to stare into the eyes of someone who understood – of someone who recognised me for who I really was. I guess for a while on my travels I looked out for those people, expecting to find them on sunset beaches and sitting wistful-eyed in smoky bars in foreign lands. Sometimes I was even lucky to find one or two, but the interactions were usually short-lived, lasting only a few hours or days at the most. Like captains of two ships briefly passing by in a wide ocean, we stared into each other’s eyes and exchanged knowing glances before disappearing silently into the mist.
Yes, the more I stood there on that hill and thought about it, the more it seemed this was the destiny of someone like myself. The cards had been dealt and I knew deep down in my flesh and bones that it was my fate to sail alone, to get lost in the mazes of my own mind, to dwell in solitude among those mountains of madness. This was how it was; for some reason I would never fully understand, this is how it was. I guess by now it was just a matter of acceptance: a matter of accepting that I was a lone wanderer – a matter of accepting that I didn’t belong. I guess by now it was a matter of accepting the fact that no matter where I went in this world, I would always return to those hills above the cities, standing alone, staring up into the skies, looking for something – anything – to come and take me home.
“After another night of reckless behaviour, I went and faced that morning mirror. I looked into my eyes and saw a harsh truth staring back at me. It was one I had always tried to avoid. Something dark and sinister lingered inside of me. It was always there stirring in my soul, haunting the hallways of my mind, whispering into my ear in moments of peace and happiness. I didn’t think I was to ever get rid of this parasite inside of me. It patiently waited for its moment to lure me back into the darkness; to pull me back to the periods of self-destruction and madness. And even when I thought I was finally rid of it – that my life had finally become one of sanity and order – there it would appear once more in my reflection. A twisted smile, a sinister stare, reminding me that it would always be there inside. The thought hit me that perhaps this sickness is not something I am meant to be cleansed of, but only learn to live with. It was a fundamental part of my being and I had to embrace the fact that maybe I wasn’t the pure-hearted guy I believed I was. And when I looked back at my life and my behaviour over the years, I began to understand why things had been how they had been. Some of us struggle to let the light touch our souls, because deep inside we know the darkness is where we truly belong.”
“Still going crazy. Still running after whatever sets my heart on fire. Still answering the call of the soul, no matter where it takes me to. It’s a sickness I guess, but one that I am happy to suffer from. We are all sick with something. Sick with love; sick with regret; sick with fear. I have chosen to be sick with abandoning myself to whatever speaks to my soul. There’s no middle ground for me, and by now I am that there is something incredibly real inside of me. I have been asked to ignore or suppress it – even to kill it. But the blatant truth is that this thing inside has caused me all the good in my life. Each year I follow my heart, the happier I am facing that mirror. In that reflection stands a man who had the courage to give life a real shot. Who had the courage to allow himself to feel the pain so he could feel the joy. To know the lows so he could know the highs. To experience the horror so he could experience the ecstasy. Life is a crazy ride, and for me the only way to live it is to put the pedal to the metal and drive fast into its wilderness. To get lost in new lands. To get your heart broken into a million pieces. To dive deep into the darkness, thinking that you had finally met your end, only to emerge into the light and stand stronger than ever – the ruler of your own heart and the maker of your own destiny. It’s a path that is not straight-forward, and one that will leave you with marks, but I stand here now – another happily scarred dreamer – telling you that, yes, the journey of following the heart is undeniably the only way to truly live.”
Somewhere deep inside your soul there is an abandoned amusement park waiting to be explored again
its entrance is taped off its grounds sit shrouded in fog but somewhere in there lies eternal bliss the bliss the demons sweat in terror at the thought of you finding
the rides await your screams of ecstasy the candy floss awaits your taste-buds the neon lights wait to shine bright and the only admission cost is that you are brave enough to venture in
in this life there is no tragedy greater than allowing your inner joy to slowly decay to allow the roller-coasters to rust in the rain and let a heart creak hauntingly in the night
the reason this happens; the reason your joy lies abandoned – is because they made you forget that you are the gatekeeper to your own wonderland that the magic is found inside you, not outside
but if you would only remember who you really are than the power will return within the roller coasters will start up again and the lights blaze bright once more
because somewhere deep inside your soul there is an abandoned amusement park waiting to come alive again
so go on in through the mist beyond the tape and rediscover the joy like a wide-eyed child dazzled and delighted curious and captivated alive in the night once again
~ A Voice From The Wild ~ 