Tag: thought journal

poetry

~ End of the Empire ~

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~ End of the Empire ~

Smoke finally clearing
As our love lies smashed to pieces
In ruin, I stand among the rubble
“It’s over,” logic tells me. “There’s no repairing this…“
“Not this time…”

Time to finally move on
And drift out of each other’s lives
To become memories and recounted stories
Perhaps even wonders of what might have been
On some quiet future nights
When the heart is feeling restless
But nothing more than that.

I start heading outward
But can’t help but find myself stopping
And picking up the pieces of our scattered castle
Holding them in my hands.

Memories of cooking together
Shared laughter by the fire
Dog walks in the woods
Soft kisses on the cheek

One by one, I pick them up
And thoughts of rebuilding
Soon enter my foolish mind
As I stand alone in this wasteland
Studying the fractured remains
Occupying this empty space
These fingers numb with the feeling
Of knowing some things can’t be fixed

But holding onto them, anyway.

poetry

~ The Radical Thing ~

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~ The Radical Thing ~

Do the radical thing. 

Growing older, it’s so easy to sink into slumber
The sofa groove; the spiritual chamber
The suppressed desires and unspoken words
It’s so easy to accept the weight of the adult world
And let those slumped shoulders form
As you stand with the others on the assembly line.

But do the radical thing
And nurture the parts inside yourself
In whatever way that keeps those eyes shining
And letting that mouth speak words of meaning
As you continue on your truest path
Shaking off the forces that want you
To become another background character
Bitterly beeping in life’s traffic jam.

Do the radical thing.
And love yourself unashamedly
Don’t submit to mindless drudgery
Nor let the bottle or the pills
Numb you to a conditioned reality.

Let the sanctity of solitude
Remind you who you are;
Let the rhythm of happiness
Flutter in your heart.

Be someone that your child self
Would look up to and delight in
And nurture a life in which you live naturally
A life in which you live with integrity,

A life in which you live radically.

thoughts

~ The Science of Silence ~

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~ The Science of Silence ~

“A lot of people are sick and stressed and suffering and they simply don’t need to be. If one makes a radical choice to embrace simplicity, they can begin to realise how little one needs to be truly happy. Dare to take a period where you strip down your life to the fundamental basics; start with what you know you need – water, food, sleep, shelter. From there, regularly find some time to sit down in silence and focus on nothing but your breath. In that sacred space, one can find access to the richest parts of oneself. In that sacred space, the neurotic noise of the mind slowly fades away, and one can finally see with blinding clarity, the joyous beauty of their own existence.”

thoughts

~ Dazed and Confused ~

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~ Dazed and Confused ~

“I stood alone once again, my fragile heart somehow still beating. I often wondered how that thing kept working after all these years; after all the ache and pain I had put it through. Even it just cutting out for a minute would be understandable, but that beating just went defiantly on, pumping the blood through my veins, fueling my existential flame that flickered as a brief flash of light in this eternal universe. My heart obviously had more hope in me than the rest of me did. I wasn’t doing so great, but I was still here: a crooked smile on my face and dreams wafting around my hungover head. I stood dazed and confused at the age of thirty-two, wondering where the hell I was going to head next. My life path was like that of some vagrant wandering down a dark road on the edge of town, looking at the flickering lights of cheap hotels and wondering in which one he could momentarily rest before drifting on some more. It seemed that the youthful me who had fervently chased his dreams had changed to this sullen drifter of the night – a man simply searching for some shelter, rather than some grand haven. A man no longer trying to climb a mountain, but just summoning the strength to get out of bed. A man no longer trying to write some great novel, but just jotting down a few simple sentences. My god, what was I even becoming? I looked in the mirror and wanted to behold those eyes that stared fiercely back at me in my twenties, but such a life was now something seemingly in the past. The merciless dagger of time had taken its swing, and what was I but yet another man secretly bleeding out before everyone’s eyes.”

poetry

~ Rainy Days Ahead ~

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~ Rainy Days Ahead ~

Sitting alone in the corner of the pub
Trying to work on my laptop
While watching the old men drink ale at the bar
As the weather notification on my phone tells me
That there will be “rainy days ahead”

I’m back in Nottingham after spending the winter away
This time without a girlfriend
Who is now living in the hills of Barcelona
I bump into her friend while walking along the river
While sporting a drunken cut on my face
And riddled with hungover anxiety
Her friend is happy and now has a dog
I look like a wretched mess in comparison.

That was my second facial injury within a month
The other happened when I had my phone stolen
As the thieves broke into my online bank accounts
And transferred themselves generous amounts of money
On that same night my bike was also stolen
And I woke up with more wounds
Seeping into my bedsheets.

Oh well, it’s a new day, I say to myself
So I take a sip of my coffee and try to get back to work
But the old men at the bar have gotten louder
So I leave and walk a bit further into the city.

I’m on my way into the centre
And walking near my old girlfriend’s house
When a homeless man approaches me
He asks me to play AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ on my phone
I put it on and start chatting to him
He’s clearly insane but I end up buying him
A pack of cigarettes and some vodka
Despite trying to recoup my recent losses.

We chat for five minutes about nothing
Until I eventually say goodbye
For some reason, I even say “god bless”
Despite being a non-believer.

And then suddenly I’m in another bar
I don’t recognise anyone
And they don’t recognise me
I told myself I wouldn’t drink
But I order a strong lager anyway
I take a sip and pull out my phone
The battery is now running low
My friend is asking if I want to go out tonight
And the notification still tells me
That there’ll be rainy days ahead.

poetry

~ Deranged ~

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~ Deranged ~

I see normal people
Normal people with normal heads
Normal heads full of normal thoughts
Thinking about their wives and jobs
Or what they have to do when they get home
The next time they’ll visit their family
Or what show they’re going to watch
Before going to bed.

Those normal people
I know if they took one look inside this head
It would be like watching some foreign film
Without subtitles.

How is it even possible I ended up this way
So far removed from the rest
That I have to train my tongue
To act out a performance just to get by.

I’m honestly so tired of this
I’m so tired of this script
I’m so tired of this performance
And these predictable people.

I think it’s time to loosen this tongue
And let the normal people see
Just what’s inside my head
Even if it’s just insanity
Or irrationality
Or a deranged poem
From a deranged mind

In a deranged world.

poetry

~ Something Drastic Must be Done ~

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~ Something Drastic Must be Done ~

Tired of not blooming anymore
Tired of being over the best part
Looking at those sullen eyes
Those shrugged shoulders
Feeling that emptiness within
As the sunlight doesn’t reach the important spaces.

Tired of being on the wrong path
And knowing I took a wrong turn somewhere
Yet not doing anything about it.

Tired of speaking words I don’t mean
And sleepwalking down these streets
Being a productive member of society
While my soul lies in some deep sleep.

I want to grab it and awaken it
And run out the front door with wild eyes
And feel these words come more easily.

I want to go back to a place in time
When writing came before working
And I didn’t care so much about money
Or that stupid fear of the future.

I want to break free from this post-youth winter
That has frozen my spirit.

I really want to do it
But the frost grows thicker
And as the days continue to drift by passively
As I stare into the vacant eyes of strangers
And that silent sadness begins to take over
I realise that something must be done.

I realise that something drastic,
Must be done.

poetry · thoughts

~ Travelling at Thirty-Three ~

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~ Travelling at Thirty-Three ~

Staring up at the sky and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness
Searching for those satellites in between the stars
While standing on a rooftop in Las Palmas
Wondering how I ended up here, again,
My days of drifting not quite over
But knowing I am definitely older now
And yes, I miss the youthful me
That renegade rascal who reveled in life’s bright lights.

Somehow it doesn’t quite hit the same anymore
I mean, those starry skies still look the same
The ocean shoreline still looks the same
And the sangria still tastes delicious
But the sense of soul-searching adventure
While coming of age on life’s rollercoaster
Is different.

Somehow I am adjusted to it all
The sights, the sounds, the conversations
And the things that once caused butterflies to flutter in my stomach
Well, they now feel like crickets chirping in my brain.

There is a still quietness on this side of town.

And as my eyes finally adjust to the darkness
And I look at the satellites instead of the stars
I wonder if I will ever behold the blazing light
Of youth and adventure again.

poetry

~ The Only Way ~

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~ The Only Way ~

I’m sorry, but I can’t be who you want me to be
I know I’ve tried to iron out these creases
To fit my circular shape into a square hole
And I know how wonderful it would be to be with you
To share our journey with love and laughter
But the makeup of myself is something unchangeable.

I thought this time it might be different
With the love of a good woman, I could become sane
I could find a good job and learn to drive and flourish
A regular human-being just like the rest.

But each stride forward just pulls me back
And tells me the inescapable truth
That I do not belong on that side of the street.

My place is here in this broken shack
Lingering with the lost and lonely
Finding my way in the shadows
While writing this poetry.

A part of me has always known this
But your kisses were intoxicating
And like all starved people who get a taste of love
I guess I let delusion get the best of me.

So tonight I finally recognise that this has to come to an end
That the irreparable parts of my character
Now break down this bridge
To leave us standing on separate shores
With only the memory of each other
And at least knowing we tried what others wouldn’t.

But now we know,
That I can’t be who you want me to be,
And that’s okay.

In the end, it’s best for both of us.

In the end,
It’s the only way.

thoughts

~ Round 32 ~

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~ Round 32 ~

On the eve of my 32nd birthday, I sit here at my laptop, a beer by my side, wondering what awaits me in the coming year as a strong winter wind blows outside. I’ve sent out another load of job applications today. At this point, with the current job market, it feels like half-heartedly throwing a fishing line into polluted waters to try and catch something fresh. I know I’m not going to yield any tasty results, but I find myself just doing it for the hell of it (perhaps to fight off the insanity that comes from sitting around doing nothing). For the first time in my life, I feel like actually getting a stable, regular job; something to give me some routine and a bit of needed structure. It’s a bleak time to have such a basic wish though. Most of my applications aren’t even viewed, no doubt filtered out by AI systems and keyword searches. And even if they are viewed, it’s a lottery to even hear back from them given the absurd competition (a recent minimum wage warehouse job I applied for has received 1265 applications). I’ve also lately heard that a lot of job adverts are ‘ghost’ adverts – just there to harvest the data of applicants and sell to advertising companies. Yes, the UK in 2024 is not a great country to live in – a failing economy, a dramatically rising cost of living, continuous shit weather, no longer in the EU, and just seemingly going further and further down the drain each year. What chance does any young person have today if not born into wealth? For me, I don’t even ask for a lot; I just want a simple and modest life, living in a one-bedroom apartment, working an introvert-friendly job while writing my books in my spare time. Such a life seems to be increasingly further away as the days of destitution and desperation go by.

Call me a pessimist, but I am of the opinion that the total collapse of our current system is not far away at all. I have watched the cracks in society widen these last years as the gap between the rich and poor grows at an unprecedented rate, leaving hard-working people unable to heat their homes or stock their fridges or fuel their cars. Worker rights are being continually eroded and, for the first time, each generation is poorer than the previous one. On top of this, jobs begin to disappear because of AI and many of the few that do appear are poorly-paid with zero-hour contracts. Meanwhile the cost of rent and groceries skyrockets while wages stagnant. Whatever is happening is certainly not sustainable, and the increasing number of homeless people on the streets only serves as a grim introduction of the post-capitalism wasteland that awaits us. And that’s not even to mention the climate crisis which sits waiting for us as well, ready to well and truly turn this society into something from a post-apocalyptic, dystopian novel.

So, at the age of 32, what is a guy like me to do but drink this beer and type these words and throw more job applications into the void while contemplating the coming downfall of civilisation? Thankfully, I am lucky enough to have a space on a medical research trial starting in two weeks’ time. I will go into a clinic for 20 days and take an experimental medicine and have tests run on me. In return, I will receive over £5000 tax-free cash. I can’t complain, I guess. Medical trials are a great gig that has funded my life the last ten years, but I am getting to the age where I recognise I can’t always rely on testing pharmaceutical drugs for money. But for now it’s enough to keep me from those cold streets and that howling wind – and even afford me a holiday away from this sinking ship of a country.

So yeah, it could be worse I remind myself. That seems to be the way to cheer myself up in the dying hours of the 31st year of my life. It’s been a pretty tough one in all honesty, with terrible periods of insomnia ravaging my mental health throughout the year. But what else is there to do but pick yourself up and go again? Tomorrow I will wake up, do my morning meditation, strap on my running shoes, do some exercise, spend another hour job searching, and then go see my lovely girlfriend for a delicious meal with wine. Though things aren’t the best overall, I will be grateful of the joys in my life, including the simple fact of actually having one. As one man said to me: “Any day above ground is a good day.” Well, thirty-two years into it, I’m still well and truly above ground, and ready to keep on running into that wind, no matter how strong it gets. Cheers to that.