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
poetry
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.
Playground Blues.
Winner stays on; bell has gone; looks like Champion is our John.
Clock is ticking; defender is nicking; choice of the picking.
Up steps Daz;
gives it to Gaz;
who crosses to Saz.
The goal is gaping; the truants vaping; all of a sudden net is shaking.
The cries are heard from afar; teacher shouts, “nul point”;
Damn – VAR.
Hunt’s Pot (by Pen-y-Ghent)
Beneath the grasses: legs held dangling,
Soft earthly ledges of rich limestone with pure airflow.
The smooth voyage by rail no trouble at all
With striding pathways of steel, through vales of appeal,
across lands cast in green carpets. Beneath cloudless skies
Which beam light into deep crags, the cracked fragmented
Grounds of eternity. Dramatic streams fade from surface
To run a course beyond that of passing eyes, under
Forgotten routes beyond roots. From within the crack
Above life embraces opportunity and greenery reaches upwards
Tumbling automatically without consideration.
Its eagerness to devour air and grow stronger.
Survival of beasts under leafy drapes and salient
Canopies of loath shade across clumsy stacks of statuary shattered stone.
This emerald-laced cauldron sways with breezes lightly.
Winds have bombarded, ice has frozen the past, and much matter
has been dispelled. But today, in the soft sun, this Hunt’s Pot
is Heaven on Earth. Savage not now.
Glydwr Fach
Suitable clothing essential; weather forecast doubtful.
Rise upward substantial; pathway gladly delightful.
Leisurely windproof defences; innocense heartfelt sails.
Purity overlooks consequences; understanding enormous fails.
Symbolic titular crests; hearing howling gales.
Passion references requests; waterproof wandering fairytales.
Glydwr Fawr
Fifth tallest heap of stones.
A rocky outcrop summit.
Scramble hard. Scramble long.
A new height:
views abound.
Drystone walls and paths of gold.
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.
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)?
Read the trees.
Read the trees.
The remnants of a once flowing life.
Given air, giving words.
Read the trees.
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
1915
Guns have won
Childlike show
God listens no more
Debased figures rot
Angry
Shorter indented lines
sense of grim order
Monstrous ANGER claiming victory
Ripped from life. Unfriendly
Bittersweet
Disappointed nature of war. Unobservant
Ultimate victory of foes by cold steel
The devoutly religious with no time to pray
Ineffectual begging given no moment
Depressed
Order gives way to chaos loose unreachable
No survivors walk the squalid trenches
GOD cannot listen
Your voice unheard
Helpless
The unfolding scenes of death. Stripped away.
Erratic sounds in battle
Frequently breaking patterns.
Disruption coupled to disorder
Tortured
The pain goes on.
Light blues.
Woke up one morning and the sun refused to shine.
Woke up, head slumped, joined another line.
Got up and went on, but the day didn’t play.
Tried to talk about it but the words I couldn’t say.
Need a little sunshine for the day.
Need a few more rays to shine my way.
Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”
So, send some sunshine and break the grey.
The will to go on heaves less and less.
There are more problems that I must address.
My passion to battle often does regress.
Yet, all I want is your love to bless.
Need a little sunshine for the day.
Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”
Need a few more rays to shine my way.
So, send some sunshine and break the grey.
The drum beats firmer in my ears.
The drumming brings forward all my fears.
Surrounding myself in proverbial beers.
Listening less and less for positive cheers.
Need a little lightness to say, “Hey!”
Need a little sunshine for the day.
Need a few more rays to shine my way.
So, send some sunshine and break the grey.
Send the sunshine.
Send it my way.
Send it.
Send it today.
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
Williams Duo & Goodwin Too
Oh, hey now is this a sign?
Have I been here before?
Oh, why should I care?
You can hear the silence drone
I still thirst
I looked for some guidance
Some beauty in my heart
Trying to accept the person I am
God knows it ain’t easy
Who knows the reason why?
Seize the time
Here comes my day in the summer sun
On summer days like these
But it slips through
What did you want?
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.
Benchmark.
I used to pass benches by.
I used to chuckle how you’d all sit there.
Nothing seemed to happen.
Yet now I understand.
Now I take a moment to sit.
Reflective thoughts and hypnotic dreams.
Lost voices surround.
Farewell friend.
I want to thank you.
Thank you for opening my eyes.
Opening my eyes to a new lens.
A new lens capturing moments of time.
Moments of time caressing tender memories.
Caressing tender memories that led to this day.
Led to this day when we said farewell.
Said farewell to you and thank you.
Thank you for being here.
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
Self-discovery lens.
We each have bad habits, and it isn’t my place to judge.
I ain’t ever smoked a cigarette, although I’ve breathed in far too many.
My not trying drugs is an issue I won’t ever budge.
Sometimes, my focus loses its antennae.
I am not an alcoholic although I do enjoy an odd drink.
I wouldn’t say I look to fight, even if I feel ready for a hit.
I like to avoid conflict, passing on kicking up a stink.
I can not tell a good joke or come across as full of wit.
I try to give more than I take. Whatever it may cost.
I prize friendship over profits.
I treasure memories but worry about opportunities lost.
I get frustrated at times. Throwing all kinds of fits.
“I’m not a racist but…” No. Not all all. I hate racism.
I’d like to protest but found my hands tied up.
I question capitalist ways, leaning my ears to socialism.
A bully bullies because they’re bullied and hold no club.
I am, however, a disappointment.
I am a disappointment.
I am.
Drawers.
At the bottom of the unit lies a spring-loaded drawer with all my deepest and darkest utterings and thoughts.
Above that, another drawer, less-sealed, more-opened to tuck away memories warm and cold.
On top of the metaphorically wooden system, a drawer for the here and now. It has future dreams, brewing, and stewing.
One drawer shut tightly contains a world of marvellous thoughts.
Above it is an open shelf of optimism. A sliding glass door keeps in contained. Often, it is open just a tiny sliver.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I can keep everything, but what I need closed.
Mostly, however, my drawers are left open with socks and underpants spilling all over the floor.
If I were Napoleon, I’d shut the drawers and nod off.
I’m not Napoleon.
Words – The 2nd Batch.
Too many. Too few. Clumped together. Read askew.
Too often. Silence broken. Paired wherever. Empty token.
Too strong. Ground shaking. Poor weather. Earth raking.
Too desperate. Atrocious intentions. Painfully clever. Ancient inventions.
Too delightful. Descending torrent. Delivered endeavour. Willfully warrant.
Words.
Letters jumbled together to make some sort of sense.
Until they don’t.
Some make you sit up straight, late at night, tense.
Go away, they won’t.
Some are favourites, warm and welcome.
Others are demanding.
A smattering of words you’ll see seldom.
Many are descriptive waterfalls of meaning.
They drop delightfully.
A few unlock secrets and ideas gleaming.
They drop frightfully.
Sentences and words arranged not from simplicity.
There to baffle you.
Newspapers spew words of publicity.
“Words can’t hurt you.”
The toxicity of a word’s elasticity.
Yes, they FUCKING can!
Ferociously delivered weapons of choice.
Venomous sounds.
All the way at you as one voice.
Good old words.
Northern Rail
Points failure. Delayed.
Late from the depot. Cancelled.
Staff member unavailable. Denied.
Leaves on the line. Complained.
Due to a landslide. Declined.
Snow, ice, fog, and high winds. Failed.
Extreme heat and railway line buckling. Inconvenienced.
Overhead line equipment failure. Uncovered.
Signal failure. Terminated.
Poor Victorian planning ahead for population expansions. Unconvinced.
Heavy volumes of rail traffic.Backlogged.
Overrunning engineering works. Poorly planned.
Speed restrictions in place. Underdeveloped.
Trespassers on the line. Stupid.
Telecoms failure. Apologised.
Animals on the line. Departed.
Lineside fires. Transpired.
Death on the line. Expired.
Another tannoy apology by a robot. Delay repayed.
The good old commute.
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