It was true that I didn’t have many talents in life At least not ones that could do the important thing: make money But although lacking in this area I was blessed with a specific quality Of just not needing, or even desiring, much.
Just give me a space to sit and meditate in A pair of shoes to go running in A basic laptop to do some writing on And that’s my happiness covered.
Okay, of course, I need food and a roof over my head But once these things are met I am as rich as the richest man In fact, I have what many of the rich don’t have: I have enough.
Just sitting and staring out the window now Watching the trees sway in the winter wind And the birds fly from branch to branch I sip a coffee and feel a completion That is greater than any millionaire in a mansion.
How or why would I be motivated To go and join in the rat race Working hard for things I don’t want or even need When pure bliss is available In the here and now.
A car is just more stress and expense Much more enjoyable to walk or cycle My own home is just a burden again I don’t want to have to pay for a new boiler Or constantly maintain it I’d rather just pay some rent.
Maybe I’m just a bum But I’ve found my own way To make it through this life While maintaining some peace And sense of sanity.
Looking around me I believe that is more than most.
Who am I kidding? Trying to be an ordinary person Getting my driver’s licence A girlfriend, a job A routine.
Who am I kidding? Dressing up nicely Tidying my room And calming the fire inside.
It may be suppressed, at times Even dwindling But the spark is always there Waiting to erupt And engulf me again.
Some things are inevitable And who the hell am I kidding Thinking that there will ever be a time When I’m not wading through the sewers And being covered in all the shit That is now seeped into my soul.
I no longer wish to lie to myself Only to face the harsh light That unveils the truth I cannot escape.
Tonight I throw away the mask And stare into the mirror Beholding my scarred, scratched flesh Facing the grim reality Of my maniacal self.
I was never made to be clean I was never made to be normal I was never made to write words That are different from these.
I was made to linger on the outskirts To drift in the darkness And let my own madness Consume me totally.
This truth is unavoidable And please, do not pity me For this act of accepting who you are Gives one a certain freedom in life.
It’s the freedom of unbolting your own cage And letting yourself be unrestrained Wandering in your natural wilderness Your claws sharpened; your eyes wide.
Hear this heart sing Though you try to silence it And wish me to get in line Suppressing my spirit I shall continue to refuse For I know that sanity of yours Is slowly killing you Your tired eyes tell it all Your soul is screaming for music And I do not wish to kill my song too No conformity or career Will put an end to this As this grey world continues You’ll find me dancing within Where my song plays loud Shaking the walls and windows Keeping me thoroughly alive And no amount of knocking at the door Will cause this precious symphony To stop soaring.
I want to say something that has never been said But the reality is that I’m just another man Having the same experience of life as many other men No matter how unique one believes their feelings They have been experienced before by some other poor fool Who couldn’t quite make sense of this crazy world But I’m going to say it anyway:
Born into this fragile skin I was always going to end up scarred But I didn’t expect the cuts to go this deep As I stand here now at the age of thirty-one Still a shaking, shivering mess inside Wondering where the hell it is I belong And how I’m going to find my way through these woods To finally find my place in the sunlight That seems to be there beyond the trees As I look up at that light streaming in, Its presence teasing me almost.
Perhaps a person was never meant to have it all But only to get flickers of the good life Those precious rays that sometimes filter through That touch the skin and widen the eyes Before the darkness of the forest returns And the fight continues.
It’s a Saturday evening and I’m home alone Trying to write a poem I’m listening to ambient music Looking at pretty pictures of sunsets Hoping that inspiration will strike As the words come flooding onto the page.
It’s a strange process that is hard to explain But doing this, instead of being at the bar, Well it gives me the sort of joy That one only gets when they are in touch With something spiritual and sacred.
For some reason I decided to be a writer I’ve been doing it for over ten years now Nothing has really made much sense to me Except when I’m organising words together.
School didn’t come naturally Jobs didn’t come naturally Social life didn’t come naturally But for some reason this did.
And that’s why I’m here tonight Still giving it all that I’ve got Sailing out on the sea of creative thought Lowering my net into the depths And trying to catch a big juicy 200 pound poem to take home And display on my wall.
For now it appears I’ve only caught this one Which, admittedly, isn’t my best But hey, I’m having fun Typing these words Jamming out alone On a Saturday evening.
I’ll think I’ll even crack open a beer As I keep on sailing on this sea Doing the thing which puts everything in the right place Which makes me feel like I’m on that dancefloor Busting my moves and celebrating life In all its strange joy.
Another weekday It’s 9pm again And the temptation to turn on the television And watch some crap appears.
No, I say to myself This is the time to create To write some words And share some truth.
So here I am back at the keyboard Persevering with my poems As my girlfriend learns piano.
What’s the point, I sometimes wonder It’d be so much easier to sink into a groove To find some comedy series And let my mind be numbed After a long day at work.
It does feel good, When the odd good poem comes along But too often it’s just hours Of staring at the screen Starting and deleting sentences Going around and around In your own mind Searching for that something Which you imagine no one else has ever said As you write the poem that changes the world That will cause everyone to become enlightened As the climate crisis is averted And world peace is finally announced.
In reality, you just type more words To post onto your blog To be read by fifteen people Somewhere around the world Whom you’ll never meet Or even message.
Well, look, I guess this is one more poem The third one of the evening, in fact I’m not sure if they’re any good But at least I can feel like I’ve earned An episode of The Simpsons now.
God, I think about it all now. How wild and crazy I was in my twenties. Flying to Iceland alone with a tent, hitchhiking around the island; cycling around the Scottish highlands with a girl I was seeing; living in a Rio de Janeiro suburb with a Brazilian family; hiking ten hours a day in the Nepalese Himalayas. I remember the locals laughing at me and telling me there was no chance I was going to reach my destination in one day. I dismissed their comments and hiked like hell, climbing a 2000m mountain pass in just a few hours. I then walked along a slippery ridge with no guide or safety equipment. Why? I just had to. I just had to live as hard as possible and be on my voyage to wherever it was I was supposed to be. There was no logical debate or reason; I was just following that inner voice that was screaming for raw experience. That voice made the entirety of my twenties a restless, whirlwind adventure. And sitting here now at thirty-one, I have to say that things have finally slowed down. There aren’t many dramatic and daring trips on the horizon. I now go on holidays and weekends away with my girlfriend. My current mission is getting my driver’s licence. I spend my weekends cooking new recipes and meditating and watching football matches. Right now, I’m enjoying a decaf coffee as I write at my desk on a work night, listening to some ambient music while feeling contentment from the simple things.
At one point I thought this kind of life was unfulfilling. I imagined myself running through the wilderness like a crazed animal until my hair was grey and my face wrinkled. I imagined myself exploring distant lands, partying most nights, getting in dangerous situations. Anything sedentary or static was the enemy of the soul. But the truth is now although the thrills are not there like before, there is a great peace in myself that I was missing for a long time while in my younger years. Ultimately, it was a lust for life fuelled by my existential dissatisfaction that propelled me into that thorny wilderness. I felt that traditional life was a con and most people were wasting their lives in trivial and mundane routines. But now – after all those adventures – I feel I have discovered the universal joy that can exist in every moment of life, regardless of one’s destination, should one be perceptive enough to the reality of being alive.
For example, I am living by a river now. It is a river I have ran or walked along hundreds of times. I’m there almost every day, in fact. And when I look out at geese flying above, the sun sparkling on the water, even the rowers going up and down – I stand and marvel at the beauty of the world the same way I did when I stood in front of Mount Everest. I feel a great delight and peace in my soul with this simple sight that I see all the time. And I just want to keep on living beside it and running my route and watching those geese and experiencing the bliss I have now discovered inside of myself. I simply don’t need to jump on a one way flight to some far-off place and get drunk with strangers before climbing a mountain. That life was fun and it made me who I am today, but now I’m in a different and, ultimately, happier place.
Okay, there is the chance that maybe I’ve just become tired or boring. But isn’t that what people do when they find inner peace? The life of a monk is hardly thrilling, but for most they live without the pain and torment that the average person experiences. And I think this is what I want now: to spend my days in peace and harmony. To meditate, to run, to write poetry, to cook, to spend time with my girlfriend and let the light rush through me. I know that without having done the epic journey, I would not have arrived at this sacred space I now reside in. Through intensive internal reflection, I have found my own formula to happiness. It is a place that maybe many people never get to experience, especially around the age I am now. But now I’ve broken through to it, I’m going to make the absolute most of it. Right now I am still sipping that coffee, listening to this music, and letting the words arrive one by one onto the page. I may publish this piece of writing somewhere or I might not. It doesn’t matter. Just the act of doing it fulfils me just as much as all those adventures did. Maybe I’ll be back on the road someday after another existential crisis, but for now I’m enjoying this oasis I have cultivated for myself. Tomorrow I’ll return to that river and watch the sunlight on the water; I’ll kiss my girlfriend on the cheek and hold her tight; I’ll cook a new meal and appreciate the flavour of the recipe. This is my life now. Yes, at the age of thirty-one, my adventure has finally slowed, but how my happiness has blossomed.
Open your heart up to the world You know you want to let that light flow inside To awaken your inner world with colour Radiating through your body.
It’s time for your life to really begin You can keep hiding from it And many do their whole lives But these days I know you’ve been longing To feel that energy surge through you As your eyes meet the dawn And the starry dance of the cosmos Can be seen in your smile.
Write your words Climb your mountains Drive down the highways That will take you somewhere Where your days will have renewed Passion and purpose.
Let the world invite you forward And leap into its possibility As your story becomes richer Each moment so much more vivid That heart once again full Of childhood joy and curiosity.
You know, I once met a man Who wanted to kill himself Before he did that, he thought He’d blow all his money On a final trip in Mexico He flew to that country Ate tacos, drank beer Made new friends Surfed the waves And watched the sunsets On the pacific ocean And finally he decided That his story wasn’t over.
Finally he decided that there was still joy in life By just changing his attitude and expectations And by screwing up the story He had written on a piece of paper That wasn’t really himself Just a tired old narrative That was in need of a new chapter.
There’s light in this world There will always be light in this world If only we open ourselves up to it Each day is a new birth is possible Should we learn to be a bit more destructive Breaking down those self-made walls Which have constricted our view Of an all too beautiful world That is aching for us to experience it
Another one reduced to tears And I can’t help but think Of all the broken hearts tonight Head in hands, tears on cheeks As the candles flicker beside baths And the warmth leaves the heart Swallowed up by a great sadness That seems destined to find us all At some point in our lives.
What is there to do But just try to keep it together As the shaking hand turns the tap And the face forces another smile Silently struggling through the days All of us together as our private pains Continue to fester in our hearts.
This world is a secret tragedy And when I look around all I see are broken people Fighting through the heartache; reorganising their lives Still searching for that one great love To complete what can not be completed To heal what cannot be healed.
Like moths to flame we chase a feeling That continually sears and scalds us But somehow leaves us wanting more.
I’m starting to come to the conclusion That I don’t think we were suppose to ever find it And perhaps a part of us doesn’t want to.
A part of us wants the tears to continue to pour The candles to continue to flicker And our hearts continue to ache For the strange and irresistible feeling Of being burnt in some fire That reminds us we’re alive.
Standing on a lonesome street On a late September afternoon With a pain howling in my heart As I stare into the dark grey sky Pleading for the summer sun to return.
Please don’t let me fade out like this Silently and slowly into the distance With each passing day And each missing kiss I feel myself disappearing in a void No longer able to touch you Or be the one that you called home.
And now I run alongside the river Where I see the entrance of your street Across the field where we played frisbee And laughed in that summer sun.
Well, now the autumn is here And I see the leaves turning brown The first few falling in front of my face Showing the changing of the seasons As my inbox remains empty of your messages As our dreams evaporate more each day And my heart wilts like those leaves Waiting for the breath of life it needs Only delivered by your gentle touch And your radiant sunshine eyes That stirred my senses, nurtured my soul And awakened me to true life.
~ A Voice From The Wild ~ 