feelings

Hear My Problems Only

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If I could stop myself feeling, would I tear it out of me?

No, but I would cut this feeling from me.

Dig deeper for focus on possible positives.

If I could remove all the reminders, and the memories to make it hurt less, should I try to silence all?

I need to feel. I need to know. I need to hang onto hope.

No matter how little remains.

If I could wake up tomorrow energised, refreshed, no longer tired and raring to go, would I sleep peacefully now?

I know I can. Yet I can’t. I should. But, I won’t.

I try to release the anger. The pain. The worry.

Should I desperately reach out for hope and determination, clutching it to my heart?

Kick back the snapping, snarling, scrappy black dogs at the feet of my bed.

Today ends soon. Tomorrow starts immediately. Onwards.

Tree Fall.

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Amongst the space of a lonely field,

Towering into winds never before perceived,

For many a century, the wood stood unpeeled,

History’s hardest winds never before conceived.



This night, your great winds blew, relentlessly,

Shaking all umbrellas as they wandered,

And sweeping side to side shattered panes carelessly,

Macintosh jackets thought as squandered.



Stood upright, resistant to gales,

Arose squelching sounds to tree roots,

Battered and blustery heaped on, it fails,

Tougher than a pair of old boots.



Creaking and leaning, sinking deep into,

The tree sought to stand hard on the land,

The air blew and grew as the storm did brew,

Tanned tree’s fanned roots sank into sand.



The turbulent gust gave more bursts of force,

Fierce furious and volcanic blasts slammed,

No longer the tree could hold its long course,

Rammed into it and cause it to be dammed.



Tempestuous savagery caused the tree to turn,

Leaves leapt into volatile and quarrelsome air,

Down went all branches as the trunk turned up fern,

Slumped down, did it all without but a prayer.



The ruinous remains of life situated across,

Soon, dies down the storm of the night,

New horizons lay out for its coating of moss,

Once upright, now fitted tight, susceptible to parasite.



The adaptive bole will adjust as best,

The sideways makeover, an alteration,

Its fruits shall bear once more upon its crest,

Should it steady in its newfound acclimation.





Budweiser.

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Shimmering shards of shattered semblance

Beneath broken bottles, unwanted emblems

This mark of shame; scattered destruction

The cyclists, aware, swerving the obstruction;

Former bottles tossed, discarded and then some.



We are unneeded. Before this day

We were used, emptied, paid for, on display

Gave joy, and felt sorrow and now we lay wasted

On the croft, forgotten.



Pick a battle with our handlers so:

To you and your unforgivable hands we know

To decay, expenditure and ruin, with lost opportunity.

Broken faith in our use to your community

We no longer hold your golden ale, or darkest stout

On the croft, forgotten.

Some.

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Sometimes, I feel backwards. Some hours, all I touch breaks. Some weeks last longer than others. Some days, a storm becomes an argument. Some moments fade to anger. Some challenges become impassable mountains. Some paths cut off. Some routes have new walls. Some connections tear apart. Some green turns to black. Some perfumes rot in sunlight. Some rainbows wash away. Somehow, I can’t walk away.

Like yesterday

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Was it yesterday we last met? Or, the week before? What? Over four years?! Unbelievable! It feels just like yesterday.

A new place with a new arrangement? Feels homely and familiar. I’ve never been here, yet it fits like a glove. Incredible! It feels just like yesterday.

Older paws and fresh tails. New photos and shirts and books and electronics. Similar but different games. Same old, same old. It feels just like yesterday.

Same voices, different figures. Hearts and minds open or closed. Warmth, deeply felt friendship. Experiences gained through tales and moments unmatched. It feels just like yesterday.

Hugs, handshakes, and cheers. One for the road. A night cap. A natter. It all matters. It’s irrelevant until it’s relevant. A proud writer talking to a writer. Audiences growing. It feels just like yesterday.

Congratulations and commiserations. Job done. Here’s to another one. Not too many years away next time. Days instead. Open doors and invites. It feels like it will be tomorrow.

Too much pressure.

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Too much pressure, I’m at boiling point. Crawling beneath, and within, hidden desperation. I know not, and no longer see what’s around me. I’m scared, so afraid, bring me down.

Too much pressure, bubbling over. I cannot taste this food you make. Isolated, solitary, remote, godforsaken, detached from you. There is no love about this town. The fury I feel is bringing me down. Curled up here, afraid to move.

Too much pressure, burning up. I cannot hear the sound of birds. Rile, irritable, aggravating, enraged – no smiles. All intrinsics, essentials, and instincts instantly lost. Insobriety, inebriated, intoxicated, disappearing. This night stayed. No reappearance nearing.

Too much pressure, feeling cold. I cannot feel your hand on mine. Unevenness, rough, changed, random protrusions throwing out delusions and illusions. Sleeping here in fear’s shadow, hiding away. Cold, clammering, coughing, spluttering, wheezing and sneezing. I struggle to breathe, numb and wheezing.

Too much pressure, reaching boiling point. Too much pressure, bubbling over. Too much pressure, burning up. Too much pressure, feeling cold. Pressure relieving as I slip away. Drifting and shifting. I’m out. Gone.

Reflected.

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Morality is an argument. Conscientious decisions trouble. Choices a barrage of beratement. Unearthed memories lay in rubble.

Wicked temptation twists contemplation. Rightfully wrongly, lyrics of living. Shrouded silk on slivered sensation. The sieged scattered soul of sacred sieving.

Reflection reigns readily within contrast. Thoughts tumble twist, blast, and clash. Tumultuous turmoil thrashes out the past. What once was, and what no longer is, rests in ash.

Triumphant yesterday smoulders in the mirror. Grounded mortar spills from split seams. Consider it, nor will it deliver and trigger a shiver. The remains of the day gleams no further dreams.

Just us.

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Just us.

No-one else.

Those who matter in the distance.

Those who care, held close.

Our thoughts in your thoughts.

Your warmth together.

Just us.

Two peas. One pod.

Wrapped up snuggly.

Joined. At the hip.

Together.

Stronger as one.

A union led by destiny.

No pressures. No worries.

Challenges to face together.

Fearless and relentless.

For us.

Hope and glory, in lands, over the seas and by green trees.

Bound at the hands.

Rings on.

A bond. Embraced.

One.

Brick Walls

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What I’m trying to say, is that I don’t want your throat to hurt so much, I don’t want you feeling so sick, and I’d take every ounce of the pain and suffering away, if I could take it from you. I’d kiss every drop of this evil bug from you.

I’d run through walls to defend and support you. Travel oceans, climb mountains, and rattle off clichés to make you understand that I am here and I am there for you. I’ll hug you closer and suffocate loneliness from you. You’ll be embraced so much that our skins will fuse. It’s that strong that even your farts smell of roses.

You have a way of doing things, and I respect that. Don’t push me away. I need you more than I need air. Without air, I might just be able to survive through some sort of chemical restructuring. Without you, well, what’s the point?! A sore throat comes and goes. I’m here forever. Until you get bored of me, that is.

Watching you sleep, restless and sweaty, face in contortions resembling a gurning competition, I am reminded of Egremont Crabbing Fair. Let’s go together. By then, you’ll be still, calm and feeling much better. Or, we could stay at home and do nothing. Just spend time wasting time and enjoying time in great company. You’re the best. I’m blessed. Let me treasure you. Stay strong. Stay positive. This bug will pass.

Stressful authority.

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Prove your status.

Copy that letter.

Twice.

Translate this to that.

Duplicate, duplicate, duplicate.

Thrice.

Indicate at the tick box.

Here, there, and HERE.

There again.

Copies of a passport.

Duplicate and photostat your household register.

Voice print.

Embassy and Consulate verification required.

University experience desired.

Nose print.

Passport photos. Wedding photos. Holiday photos.

Travel history records. Paper money trail. Bank statements.

Dental records.

Fill in this.

Provide a copy of your birth certificate.

Photographs.

What was your dog’s mum’s maiden name?

And, what did your ex-wife eat for lunch yesterday?

Evidence.

Bloodtype, fingerprints, retina scan.

When did you last sneeze?

Health check.

How good are your genes?

Swear an oath, an affidavit, an allegiance to the flag.

Sing the national anthem. In Swahili.

Verify.

What are your political beliefs?

Trump or Xi? Sunak or Churchill?

Confirm.

Height, weight, favourite colour.

Where do you plan to go?

Bureaucracy.

Hand over your loved ones.

Get down on your knees.

Pray.

Relieve yourself of all sins.

Seek absolution and fix this.

Hurdles.

Discrimination

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Why do you discriminate against me?

Why do you think you’re better?

Who allows you to talk over me?

Am I too unambitious if not a go-getter?

What makes you the king of this castle?

Whose voices are you speaking for?

Why do you bring me all this hassle?

Was it my forefathers in that long forgotten war?

Didn’t you understand the mistakes of the past?

Is it my skin, you fear?

Do you blame me or my people for that blast?

What values should I hold dear?

My religion or your religion?

Hate us? Hate me? Hate our future?

Where is the peace dove or grey sooty pigeon?

What makes you think I’ll level a score?

Equality or inequality?

Why do you raise your voice?

Why do you question my ability?

Why do you ask me for my choice?

Will your hateful words always haunt me?

Do you decry the freedom I seek?

Where is forgiveness and the blossoming new tree of the free?

Are you unhappy that I am not weak?

What makes civilisation?

How do I know that you know?

Where is my destination?

How will you show we can no longer grow?

First Sight.

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Eyes so precious and swirling with colours deep as an ocean and broad as a mountain. A smile that radiates heavenly light. That smile I’ve seen before in your ancestors. A touch of grandparents, from my line. Great grandparents, too.

Wavy dark locks of hair, and a head shaped to think, fight, and strive for brighter days. Hands to grip the day and right a rocking ship. Such light skin, yet shades of Mother and Father, should ward off any ray of danger. Yet, the curse of the mosquito feeding ground is within you.

Satisfying stretches as you reach to the sky. Your arms will know no limit. Each kick could be a practice for bike rides, games of sport, or swimming trips imagined. Or, to show your sounds of giggles and pleasure are practice for leisure.

I’m sorry for my mistakes and past, and all the moments of doubt. I give you the future, no matter its struggles and worries. Let your resting head lay on my shoulder and allow me to be the protector. We can tackle every worry and solve problems. I vow to cleanse my soul and body, to live better to give you the brightest possible start. To you and your gorgeous, strong-willed mother.

There shall be tears, torments, and tremors on our path, but I shall stand by you both until breath no longer enters and exits my vessel. For you, you both, you are each and everything I longed for, and the watermelon seeds we wished for are within you. Growing a fruit with limitless flavours. This is a day I could never imagine. Thank you to you. You are a miracle.

The future is now, and you are the future.

Mams, moms, mums… 妈妈

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Words taught. Ideas thought. And spoken. A gift, a token, a day awoken. Mums are brilliant. They’re resilient, they’re efficient and sufficient. A guide along paths. A shoulder to turn tears to laughs. Mums, moms, mams, 妈妈

Books given. Lies forgiven. Lessons learned. Trophies earned. Encouraged. Discouraged. Pushed on. Troubles gone. Forever enduring, securing and helping you before and during. A fanatic supporter helping and scoring. Moms, mams, mums, 妈妈

Try this, try that. Do this, do that. Eat your corn. See her scorn. Tidy up, fold it up, put it away. Have your say. Listen to the way. Day after day, always there for you. Truthfully, forever true. Mams, moms, mums, 妈妈

Loving, caring, sharing (through choice or not), supporting (win, lose or draw), there for you, no matter your lot. MUMS, MAMS, MOMS, 妈妈

Thanks for being my friend.

Hope’s message

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I don’t want to see tubes coming out of your nose; or your face lacking cheeks coloured in rose.

I don’t want to see wires attached to your skin; nor your arms stretched out so thin.

I want to tell you off for trespassin’; I want to see you read Carl Hiaasen.

Or, shout at you for hiding your homework; watch you frustrated shouting berserk.

I want all your worries, testing times; problematic homework, and accidental crimes.

I want to learn alongside you; watch you grow strong as a Sky Blue.

We should be together, I apologise; when you’re older you’ll realise.

Wise as it is, life ain’t simple; especially seeing your still simple.

Finally, I believe we shall laugh together; walk on hills whatever the weather.

Those tubes and the fear can’t last; hope you recover ever so fast.

The fine line.

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Key worker and essential cog one day, discarded the next week.

“Valued employee” and “fine example” until you’re not relevant.

“Outstanding” and “innovating” before being outdated and obsolete.

“Indispensable” or “central to the team” as a budget slash deems your release date now.

Punctual, loyal, and attentive to fine details, followed by succeeded and outdated.

Moving on up, rising to the top, but all of a sudden, tumbling and spiralling downwards.

There’s a margin. A wafer thin gap. A sliver of light between dark and lost. A piece of hope dangling on the thread of chaos and change. Which way it blows is not always your choice. Which way you respond, use your own voice. A pathway here or a tunnel there. Give in, or go on?

Go on.

Nothing to Everything.

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It took everything from my system. All energy is sapped. It hit me like a tonne of bricks. A freight train to the soul.

I lost comfort.

Hope vanished.

Life’s path took a dark spiralling turn south.

Goals and ambition kicked into the gutter.

Shattered connections.

Unhelpful, unhealthy solitude.

All I could see was emptiness and fear.

A vacuum of a chasm.

Empty demands and is spoken of in snide words.

Lost belief in myself.

Hurt. Gutted. Irrelevant.
Life being a cunt. Tortured. Shamed.

You gave me everything, every smile and every belief. You fueled me. You lit the lighthouse once again. A defibrillator to hope.

You gave comfort.

Life took a huge mountainous climb towards the sun.

The constant goal and need embedded.

You asked for nothing and embraced my confusion.

Impressive reality and challenges ahead.

It’s a wonderful miracle.

Without judgement, without demands.

Gained a soul this last year.

Excited. Overwhelmed. Relevant.
Life is a joy. Pleasured. Pride..

Storm in a Teacup

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Don’t conceal it. Don’t hide it. Don’t fear it. Don’t fight it. Just put your head down and right it.

Don’t give in. Never surrender the win. Block out that enormous din. Just get yourself up and head for the win.

Don’t shatter your dreams. Avoid tearing at the seams. Watch out for low beams. Just look for the place with good teams.

Don’t slide about. Don’t scream and shout. Don’t ever make yourself doubt. Just let it all out.

If not, what have you got? Your thing, your place, your lot. You’re more, are you or not? You’re here on this pale blue dot.

Now go get it yourself! Trust in your health. There’s more to life than wealth. Put doubt firmly on the shelf.

In a pickle.

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Financially, mentally, substantially.

In a pickle.

Unquestionably undoubtedly, profoundly.

In a pickle.

Historically, periodically, profoundly.

In a pickle.

Oddly, secretly, openly.

In a pickle.

To the letter, by the books, across the board.

In a pickle.

No trust fund, no benefactor, no obligation.

In a pickle.

Without reserve, without doubt, without care.

In a pickle.

Dark thoughts.

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Take it all for yourself. Pool up the wealth. Cripple those in ill health. Myself. Each self. Yourself.

Why should anyone share? It isn’t supposed to be fair. Have power, will scare. Less care. What care? No care.

Copy it, market it, sell it on. Small trader’s hopes gone. Give in to each don. A con. This con. The con.

Hardened by grimy soot. Tough under each jutted foot. The struggling empty gut. Howling mutt. Growling mutt. Mournful mutt.

Crumbs shouldn’t drop to the floor. Beggars asking for more. Wounded families, sore. Greedy poor. Filthy poor. The poor.

Darkness crawls through the light. Crushing all that is right. Turning summer to winter’s night. Strangling delight. Sapping delight. End of delight.

Rebellion #1.

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I’m the rise against the odds. I’m the growl facing the sods.

I’m the vote that casts a change. I’m the matter that needs derange.

I’m the fighter in the field they want to mine. I’m the nurse fixing plasters rain or shine.

I’m the voice that they want to silence. I’m the battler against all manner of violence.

I’m with many who shout and demand new ways. I’m one of the glued-up rebellious art damaging strays.

I’m the silent protestor who annoyed the police sergeant some. I’m the leader of the change that has to come.

Stand alone, fall down. Stand tall and together, stand up for your town. Stand for the greedy and against the needy, stand opposite me, you’ll see. We’re the changes that are needs be. See.

The time is now.

Hey adventure, where are you?

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I’ve been waiting, patiently and impatiently. Where are you? Perhaps, you missed me here. Hey adventure, where are you?

I know I’ve been distracted, confused and upset. Where are you? Just maybe, you’re too busy to call by. Hey adventure, where are you?

These days have been testing for me, unsure and hanging on the help of others. Certainly, you know where to look. Hey adventure, where are you?

I looked back at last year and the year before, and one before that. How come you didn’t visit me yet? Hey adventure, where are you?

Is it something I did, said or thought? Am I not the same person as before? Hey adventure, where are you?

When you call by, bring some tissues and a shoulder to lean on. I’m sure you’ll return. Hey adventure, where are you?

I’m feeling so low, blue and deep in shadow. You won’t see me outside. Hey adventure, where are you?

I need to feel the sharpness of lemons, taste the sweet cool air and smell of green life. Instead, you’ll see me between these walls. Hey adventure, where are you?

It could be worse I guess, cast off and unwanted? No letter of recommendation or wave off. Hey adventure, where are you?

Hey adventure, where are you? I need you. I need. I need you. Need you. You. Come get me. Hey adventure, where are you?

Hey adventure, where are you?

Spheksophobia

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How many old dreams of the past are dormant? How many dreams of the future are yet to be realised?

The flocculant rain falls, and the howling wind calls, as he bangs his head firm on walls.

How many days drifted in and out? How many hours in light? How many in night?

The foundations of the house shake, they ripple, bend and quake, all the while his feet flip, slip and bake.

How many lights shine out bright? How many rays cast no shadow? How often does light fade to black?

The will of a man is tested, his head ill-rested, broken undigested, wasted hope scattered and shattered.

How come comets flash and zoom by? How do meteors find their way? How often do they evade all sight?

The feel of his feet grow rough and sore, unable to walk no more, lost on a map with no detail, cast off to sea without a voyage.

How does a guide find a route? How do you define what’s in a suit? How often is a path well-trodden?

The life of Riley, the hidden Eden, the leadership skills of Christ all the parts of Paradise’s Elysium far, far out of reach.

Eh?

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We’re all writers putting pen to paper, typing night and day;
Singing love songs come what may.
Banging out letters of dismay;
Giving our opinions on hearsay.
All in front of us, our display;
Making sure we have our say.

Place down your head, just go and lay;
Eyes to the left, eyes to the right they bend and neigh;
Come month end’s wait for our pay.
Should I go or should I stay?

Passing our eyes over the latest play;
Heartfelt causes won’t go away.
In hard times, we kneel and pray;
Write that letter to the girl called Fay.
Oh sweet Fay, the next day your name is May;
Life moved on and we found our way.

Children rejoice, they jump and say, “Yay!”
No more waiting, no such delay.
Watching movies until we hit the hay;
It doesn’t really matter if anyone’s gay.
Dipping our toes in the deep of the bay;
All around the sound of that lovely jay.


On cloudy days grabbing each ray;
Talk about football on the Saturday.
Watching movies until we hit the hay;
It doesn’t really matter if anyone’s gay.
Dipping our toes in the deep of the bay;
All around the sound of that lovely jay.

Streetcat.

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I feel like a roof won’t cover me.

I can’t busk under a tree.

Jobs will pass by me.

Nothing here, nothing to see.

The big issue is deep inside of me.

Confidence is my absent key.

I can’t earn this, unreachable fee.

Teaching, reaching and beseeching thee.

Fetch no path my way to feel glee.

Absence and opportunities aren’t free.

The other side: as a rotten wasted bee.