Bells clank and clatter
far off on the hills up high.
Above the wild white wonder
as large as the sky.
I departed for a walk
on a winter’s day;
Scattered tufts of frozen blades
guided the way.
I tasted the excitement
on the wind’s frozen air.
No animal moved freely
under my glare.
Children slid, jumped, and threw
their newfound toy.
Ran my hands through the powder
embracing each flake of joy.
The trees groaned under
weights as heavy as a house.
Soon the sun would say goodbye
like dying flames shining on a winter’s grouse.
Their arms wrapped up
against nature’s blanket of chalky dry milk.
Glistening fields of brightness
reflecting the overwhelming beamed sun on silk.
Keeping gifts in mind beyond
the long-passed autumn nights.
The excitement of finite December
filled with hope and delights.
emotions
Pending under way.
Just a sign would be good. A little update. Yet nothing.
Eight weeks, they said. That was months ago. How can a win feel like defeat? That jubilation has long passed. Instead an ache like no other has filled the void. I feel it in my chest, my collarbone, and as firing spasms of burning paresthesia. It hurts.
I’ve never felt so insecure, so vulnerable, or so weak. It shatters me: a nerve-wracking wrecking ball of uncertainty. I feel waves of anger and catch myself ready to lash out. I picture walls with new found dents, wrecked knuckles, boot-marks in fences, and all manner of destruction.
My mind tests itself with views that I fully disagree with. I see the Union Flags and England colours draped and tatty on street lighting across Manchester and I feel that I don’t belong anymore. This isn’t the nation I grew up in. I feel ashamed to be British. I feel lost.
And that all-important growth is all because of life in limbo. I feel the self-appointed hangman’s noose tighten. I question whether I should section myself. My mind is at war. My body is giving in. It’s weighed down, as if trudging in mud, and I am sinking.
The bad news flows like a torrent over High Force waterfall. The plunge pool rises and I’m face down. The breaths of air I want to take are slipping away. “Come back” on one hand versus a suspended existence on the other. A pulse racing. Light flickering to off.
I’m a grenade. The pin is loose. It won’t take much. A lost bike light in a dark park refused to be found. I boil further. The tangled lead and the dog that refuses to follow. I pull harder. A stubbed toe. A tear that refuses to flow. I am ready to burst.
It’s the hope that kills you.
Directions
I’ve been stuck in standing traffic
After going twice around the roundabout
Unable to find my turn off
I turn into the wrong lane
Heading against the flow
Headlong into you
Intrusive Thoughts
Saturday was a tough day. Tough to get out of bed. Tough to put one leg in front of the other.
Heading to the ground, I suddenly felt the need to cry, and slip away somewhere alone. I’ve always found it easy to step back and find solace or pull myself up. Today felt different. It was as if some gremlin was hanging on my toes inviting me to slide under ground into a pool of blackness. I dropped my friend Nat a message and went for a refreshing wander. I thought about calling my best mate Dan and realised how much that I didn’t want to speak. I sat and stared at the bleak Ashton canal. Its uninviting tones warned away those beyond water. I peered at leaves and their array of colours. Autumn’s cooler breezes had arrived.
Motivation is limited. I feel energy levels have sapped. I don’t want to do anything. It seems like every day is a push against a wall that won’t budge. I have so much to live for. I have so much to be responsuible for. I am incredibly lucky. Yet, the coolness of autumn and the shedding leaves feel unwelcome right now. I know days and nights will improve. I believe things will get easier but today, like Saturday, it is okay not be okay. A cliche maybe. But, that is how I feel.
Negativity at football seemed magnified. Impatient fans failed to cloke their dislike for Nunes and Nico. Neither did much wrong. Both put in a shift. I felt like turning on fellow fans. Instead I applauded those players louder and more passionately. Armchair and stand managers should still back their team, no matter who wears the shirt. It didn’t improve my mood. Then I pondered calling Dan again but realised I had no desire to talk. Sorry Dan, miss you matey.
I want to thank my friends at City, the ones I bumped into and nattered to, and remained with after the game for a while. Chatting to my mates, I happened upon a chance to talk to and get a programmed signed by the modest and splendid poet and author Lemn Sissay (OBE FRSL). His book Tender Fingers in a Clenched Fist has always stood out in my mind. Rain is another example that I can’t forget. And Daz, for the lift to Gateshead to see City draw with Newcastle Utd in the Subway Butty League Cup – and win a bonus point 7-6 on penalties. Daz, Haguey, Alison, Hagred and co have kept me sane for the last few years of football. A great bunch that have distracted me. I love my friends and those I encounter at work, at football, and in my life. They make me stronger and I hope they feel my heart.
And back to Saturday morning, collecting Astrid at the newly opened North View mental health hospital at Crumpsall. It was opened by Ricky Hatton. I couldn’t help think about his departure from life. I was born in Crumpsall, and I caught my vision and thoughts about my own mortality. I fear death. I have too much left to do. I also know how close the fine line between here and the next life appears. That void or whatever you believe isn’t far away. And at Crumpsall as I waited for my sister. I found my overactive mind imagining the ripple effect of my death. It hurt. It shook me. I questioned my own mind. It scared me. I’m not ready. I have much to do.
I played football again tonight. I didn’t want to play. I felt numb. I went to clear my head and pull my socks up. So, what now? Think I’ll call Dan tomorrow.
Vagrant.
I see myself in the faces of the homelessness.
I see the long stares and uncertainty in their eyes.
They are we and we are them.
Treading a fine line between have and have not.
I see the hunger, desperation, and worry.
I see the lost love, the failed support, and a state that has abandoned.
They are we and we are them.
The line so fine it hangs on a cliff edge.
I see the need for help and belonging.
I see the pathway to drowned dreams in pools of booze.
They are what we are and we are what they are.
The fine thread line dangling from a torn jacket.
I see the hope in your eyes when human kindness embraces.
I see the joy when words are heard.
You’re like me and I’m like you.
The line between have and have not closer than you know.
I hear your songs, your rants at pigeons, and your belly rumble.
I hear your tears near-silently fall to the floor.
You are me and I am you.
The damn line we crawl in life.
I feel it all.
But not as they do. Not yet.
Maybe soon.
And you’ll be like me, just like you.
And I’ll be you.
Lost in Nature
Lost in nature, we forgot the time; Chasing mountain hares along a line; Admiring butterflies hanging on fine; This was a day where we forgot the time.
Let out until darkness, we lost our way; Plenty of words we could speak and say; Through flags full of colour we did pray; This was a day we could play our way.
Under stars that shone down on us; Hands in hands feeling the buzz; Taking the moments, each one a plus; Not one feeling deemed superfluous.
These were the places, the times, and the escapes; Swallowed within sprawled landscapes; Every connection spans and takes shapes; These moments, these memories: wonderful escapes.
Stop the boats.
Stop the boats. Build a bridge.
Britain is full. Full of talent and welcoming.
Pull back the benefits. Make everything free.
They bomb the hospitals. With packages of flowers.
They desecrate values. Values added by workforce.
They disrepute our creation. Creation of meaningful multicultural love.
“Make Britain great again.” A great big hub of togetherness.
Too many seek asylum. Only lunatics seek asylum in these social conditions.
Our border security is compromised. Compromise: we have shores all around us.
Climate is displacing people. We’re an island and it could soon be us displaced.
They come here just to avoid detention. Didn’t we arrest you for more?
They impact the economy for wages, public services, and debt. A soap opera of lives before.
There is no social integration. Poverty, housing, and acculturation are new, right?
Humanitarian crises are not our responsibility. Are you human?
They create a labour shortage. Nobody wants to work anymore.
There is no political populism. See also: the Internet.
The backlogs are too big. Work smarter.
Irregular migration was caused by war. Stop selling bombs to bomber nations.
Migrants have vulnerabilities. Tell that to the victims of Operation Yew Tree
The journeys are dangerous. Make the journeys fair and simple.
Healthcare is strained. Stop underfunding and selling it off in the first place.
Social services are crippled. Perhaps the fraud cases in the system needs more tackling.
Our national identity is being lost. The identity imposed upon many has had hundreds of years of changes and adaptation.
Human rights prevent us doing the right thing. Until your Human Rights are breached.
Discrimination will rise. You’re doing a great job, already.
These refugees don’t understand us. Welcome and educate all.
They come to divide us. You DIVIDE us.
I didn’t put my right arm up. Yes, sure… Adolf.
Stop the boats. Build a bridge.
Summer ’25: VIII – “Hello A.C., my old friend…”
Guangdong didn’t miss me. Nor I missed Guangdong. The mosquito feeding service resumed, probably, as the train doors slid open. “Attack! Attack! Attack!”
Luofushan is a big bulging expanse of subtropical mountain. Swallowed by managed parkland, concrete and stone passages loop and weave its sides. Temples, museums, and a cable-car ropeway dot the landscape amongst entertainment options like a jungle chair ride and multiple fish food vending machines. Huizhou’s economy is further boosted by passionfruit and banana sales at the gate. Cold tofu desserts add other sweet options. Water is essential. The big expanse commands your appetite.
In regards of appetite, a giant chicken restaurant, for consumption of regular-sized roast chickens was the final stop of the day. The playground, climbing walls, balance wires, and swings afterwards tested hands and feet, and possibly full bellies too. A decent enough end to a day of bug-spotting (including bee eggs for sale – as food). The stadium-sized chicken restaurant was stupendously busy and barely a quarter of it was open. Must avoid a fully-booked attendance.
“No one can construct for you the bridge upon which precisely you must cross the stream of life, no one but you yourself alone.” – Friedrich Nietzsche, otrovert
Heated up, overly tired, and distracted, we headed up GaoBangShan again. My mood was odd, angry (and not just at City losing to Spurs), and I should not have gone out. The distant lightning storm to the west was not just a metaphor. I really was starting to feel upset that soon I’d be leaving to the U.K. My emotions and behaviour were inexcusable. Hot heads can’t cool in heat. I had to apologise for being petty and silly.
“When anger rises, think of the consequences.” – Confucius (孔子Kǒngzǐ)
Time slipped away fast and no sooner had I arrived back in Guangdong, it seemed I was on a plane heading for Manchester, via Cairo. Time really is precious.
“How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” – Dr. Seuss, controversial author.
Summer ’25: 37:13 of railway travels.
There:
0838 Huiyang > Guangzhou South 1:18
1057 GZ South > Yangshuo 2:34
1321 Yangshuo > Guiyang North 3:07
1533 Guiyang East > Chengdu East 3:45
0909 Chengdu East > Guangtong 6:24
1622 Guangtong > Dali 1:08
1147 Dali > Shangri-la 4:19
22:35
And back again:
1200 Shangri-la > Dali 2:15
1413 Dali > Nanning 6:34
1128 Nanning > Guangzhou South 2:45
1430 GZ South > Huiyang 1:20
14:38
Summer ’25: I – A Quest for Hope
Manchester rain made a welcome return on Saturday morning. The sky cried for my departure. The greyness of overhead lines, concrete, and new high rise towers did not clash with the constant matt grey of the leaking vast sky. Blue skies and sunshine had greeted Manchester for months on end. The summer school holidays had now arrived.
Getting to Manchester International Airport’s Terminal 2 early required a 05:25am wake up, an early bus, and the 07:18 train. Kitted with a 20kg rucksack and a lighter 8kg daysack, I ran through my head the things that I may or may have not forgotten. Despite attentive planning and packing, a snag of doubt sat firmly on my shoulder.
Juneyao Airlines, complete with cluttered and near unworkable website for check-in, would be my carrier. Other airlines are available. However, on arrival, my world fell apart. Blood emptied my face my legs became jelly, and the shock of being told my visa had expired hit me like a freight train. It was not a good day.
On the train back to Manchester, I shook in rage qnd worry. I trembled. I vomited. I went to the toilet in other ways. I was empty. Panic battled with sensibility. I struggled home in a zombie-like trance. I entered the house, dropped my rucksack and backpack, and crumpled up into a bawling sack of self-hate, anger, and shame.
On telling the family, I set about rebooting myself and explored resurrection for summer plans. I immediately logged onto Chinese Visa Application Service Centre Manchester’s website and lodged my visa application. A trip to the library was necessary to gain scanned electronic copies of every passport page. And everything seemed to upload.
Sunday:
A day in the garden digging up vineweed and Himalayan-barbed-wire-bramble, with plenty of worrying and questioning of myself. A few video calls and some Bosch Legacy on the telebox. A day of limbo sandwiched by buying some Lego Duplo at a charity shop in Failsworth and an evening of cheese, sauerkraut, and bacon Polish dumplings. That all followed noticing my visa application as not being present. However, it would not allow me to apply due to a previous application. I wondered if it would go well.
Monday:
08:00 – Visa application appear online at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre website.
10:00 – query visa at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre. Visa application received.
11:46 – email request for further information.
12:00 – further information sent.
Pottering around town. Waiting. Limbo.
15:08 – application approved. Email to print with code and hand passport in.
I legged it from the book and coffee shop.
15:24 – printed documents at Manchester Central library.
15:27 – arrive to Manchester China Visa Centre. Attempt to hand off passport and documents. Man at desk, “I’m sorry we don’t accept applications after 15:00.”
I said, “It says 10:00 – 16:00.” He replies, “That’s wrong. We open again for application drop offs at 09:00 tomorrow.” Thanked man at desk.
I’ll be back. The quest goes on. 🐝
Wednesday:
Using the mandatory bonus free day, I headed to Warrington and met Little Big Sis’ Astrid for noodles and a movie. A good switch off from recent tension.
Tuesday:
08:35 – arrival at Chinese Visa Application Service Centre, Manchester. 5th in the queue.
09:00 – Service commences.
Thursday:
08:40 collection queue, position 2.
09:05 visa in hand, all grand.
Go to bed early (16:00/17:00), wake around 22:00/23:00.
Friday’s plan:
Depart for Manchester International Airport around midnight.
03:00 – Check in.
06:00 board flight to Brussels, Belgium. Sing a Vincent Kompany song and wobble my backside like Jeremy Doku skipping past defenders. Look out for former City player Émile Mpenza.
11:40 – board flight to China, in Brussels.
Let’s be fair, I’m not so sure U.K. leisure or family visit visas are as fast.
Lured
I’m lured to this corner, for what reason I do not know.
Tempted by all senses.
Drawn out of my shadows and head unburied.
The sand parts for my steps.
Distant engines roar into activity, tensing my every muscle.
Hope sits at the departure lounge.
A new day awaits, fresh with pineapple juices and greenery.
I return to you.
Battle.
Read my eyes. Read them carefully.
I heard you. I really got your gist.
I’m not talking. My words are silent.
I am trying to think. And block out your sounds.
I heard every little thing. I am not deaf.
Why are you so unkind? Don’t you see me?
Look at my face. Read the expression.
A plethora of scribbled emotions. Keep out of my path.
Think I’m deaf, do you? Look at me.
Look closer. See my body raging.
See that deep upset. I won’t speak.
I don’t want to erupt. I am close.
I have plenty to say. I hold back.
You push me and push me. And some more.
Keep on pushing and pushing. Pushing the hate.
Nothing positive to say? Thought not.
Can’t you shut up? Think of better words.
Don’t I have feelings? You hurt me.
You really have made me sad. Unbelieveably angry.
I count. Don’t I?
Outside in.
How do you find yourself when part of you seems lost or missing?
What if being different is the thing you ignore: your greatest strength?
How far into the abyss would you go to protect someone you love?
What if the world doesn’t make sense, would you still abide by the conventional rules?
What if the bravest thing you can be is yourself and no-one else?
Can your gentlest whisper say more than your loudest shout?
Where do you turn when you feel that you don’t fit in anywhere?
Who said being a mature grown-up had to be anything like perfect?
When everything feels torn and twisted, can you still believe in hope?
Is there only one way of life (that’s your own)?
Calling
Farewell to the stars
My eyes blur with sleep
I don’t invite them on in
Nor do I allow their shouts
I couldn’t hear it
A misdeed so true
I couldn’t feel it
A transgression of angst
A silhouette I am
In a pale concrete box
A Pompeii blast-mark
Solitary without you
Unable to see you
Prevented from calling out
Unable to hear you
I could no longer call
No call possible
Answers no longer reachable
Response
You are married
You are far away
You are in my heart
You are in my soul
Forever ~
古
Frustrated
Pause.
I’m married. Yet alone.
So lonely. Not together.
No hugs. No kisses. Just a phone.
Miss you. Miss one another.
Pause.
Apart. Far away.
Cursed. Dreams on hold.
In limbo every day.
Torture. No hand to hold.
Pause.
Painful. Desperate at times.
Denied a shared life.
Treated like a thousand crimes.
Soul screaming. Cruel bastard strife.
PAUSE.
I’m married. Yet alone.
Pause.
I’m married.
Pause.
Yet alone.
Pause.
Alone.
Life goes on.
Life goes on.
Where are you right now?
Accompany me every day
I accepted the parting, but underestimated the missing! It is destined to be an endless dampness!
古
Out of time.
Out of time.
Spin, spun, twirl, and life has gone;
Gaze, glare, peer, asking all you love;
Vacantly, unoccupied, empty, an account declined.
Elapsed, faded, as ebbed time trickles away.
Endure.
This canvas captures my heart’s breath;
Stronger as remains blanket the grief.
Acts of kindness, love, and selflessness.
Portions of souls shared.
The best yet made.
Endure and carry on.
Harmony
Cruel hand deals twisted fate
Not seeking solace nor peace
Dealing a weighted deck of chaos
Shoving detritus unto the face
Only time heals the irate
Christmas Eve
They’re sharing family Christmas photos;
Wishing you all well and greetings for the seasons.
Yet, here, without you, I’m incomplete.
My family’s come is shattered beyond reasons.
The glimmer of hope like the slim chance of snow on a warm winter’s evening;
The last bus approaches on a pathway surrounded by emptiness.
A lone blackbird sings beneath a damp lamppost;
Touched in the heart, I am not in all fairness.
I envy and feel bitter to those who have it all;
I feel happy for each and everyone enveloped in family.
Yet, here, without you, I’m still incomplete.
For too long now, I suffocate in calamity.
Wreaths hug doors and trees sparkle in light;
Hearing carols on the street, my stomach flutters.
Yet, there and here, I cannot find a way out;
I feel bleakness, struggling to rise from the gutters.
Jitters
If I could disappear, without causing pain, I would.
Just drift off on a mountain trail, all alone.
Not a trace would remain.
That’s just insanity talking.
To be found.
I used to smile.
Instead, my face creases like contours from a map.
I used to laugh.
Now jokes pass over me like Arctic winds on the tundra.
I used to chuckle and gleam.
It’s all replaced by a seemingly eternal cold emptiness.
I used to preach hope.
But for all its worth, I let go of that dream.
Before today, I was strong.
I slink down beneath a door frame, unable to open the handle, and let myself in.
Before today, I sought new songs.
Yet now most seem overplayed and all the same: repeat after repeat after repeat.
Before today, I had ambitions.
They slipped away, leaving an endless string of survival day by day.
Before today, I loved the rain.
Now, I greet umbrellas and raincoats and wellies as sanctuary.
Where is the old me?
Lost, maybe.
To be found.
An end.
Stones roll inwards;
Passing fiercely;
Slamming down violently;
Smashing all in its pathway;
Tossing and turning;
Without discrimination;
Rupturing creation.
Turning solid shapes to shards;
Presenting passage;
From life to the beyond;
Savage and cleansing constructs.
An end.
This land: home.
Vikings raided, settled, and persuaded;
Flags waved, distances faded.
Outliers passed over seas – islanders no more;
Old words and legends floated on seas of time.
Joy and separation folded together;
Historic sights of sites recalled;
Steps go up, and up, and up;
These dots of green on rock feed our souls.
This land: home.
Test.
It’s like there is nothing left. I’m drained.
Between the breeze and the wind, upended.
Struggling against the tide as it drifts away.
Pushing on, step by step, yet sinking and never gaining ground.
The sapped life comes and goes. A moment’s joy evaporates.
I could have been better. It could have been better.
But, it’s not. It isn’t. It could be. I know it could be.
It could also have been far worse. It Feels this way.
Nothing worth doing is easy, right? So they say.
It hurts. It really bloody hurts. Like loss. Yet there’s no loss. Just hurdles.
The sky glows under a bright moon as lanterns drift upwards.
A glimmer. Just a flicker. That hope.
That energy I see in their faces. I can do this. I must. I will.
Just as faiths test their masses, I must believe. I have too much to lose.
For this, I am lucky.
A seed of hope.
A Muslim hand could hold a Jewish hand.
White van man, Audi driver, and all around us should be survivors.
Creation and creatives devour words and art, feeding us new days and ways.
A Palestinian should be born under safe skies.
No guns, no knives, no fear: just lives.
The Scottish, English, or Welsh must walk together.
Whatever you believe, be able to show it. Be able to grow it.
Let the music of Bob Marley show one love.
Switch of the division. Let videos and lies fly away like fireflies.
Their dreams and plagues will no longer taunt and haunt us.
Together is always better. A community of unity.
Failure to success; pain to redress; broken to fixed. Live forever.
Some day we’ll find a brighter way.
It starts now: I give you a seed of hope.
At the other end.
Poor.
Struggle.
Underdeveloped.
Difficulty.
Issues.
We need to do summat.
RIGHTLY SO.
Does that make sense?
Does that sound right?
Why did you stop?
Shall we try that again?
What else could we do?
What else could you do?
Does it look right?
Does it make any sense?
Do we really understand?
Really?!
I’m not so sure.
Maybe it isn’t right, right?
Something wasn’t quite right.
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