Constant circle
looking closer to see the grooves
Another time
to end this melancholy cycle.
Eternity
feeling to prime the distant edges
To be myself
and keep this feeling intact.
Rounded pathway
all green and splendid in such desire
Right here and now
Step back and look away to see.
Blending into freedom (or so he says)
It is not the confines of the surroundings that bind him
for that would simply be insane; look –
there are no walls to keep me there and yet
here I am; neither free nor in any form of despair.
Acceptance.
Is there anything worse than capturing yourself?
No guards to patrol the cells, for bars and chains
Are the stuff of nightmares. This surely can’t be;
if he was held captive then would it be known –
Seems like a safari holiday.
Glaciers that shine and blink at their occupiers
can always float away when the mood sees fit –
The guardians have such a weary yet reassuring
Smile. I am dubious at the great deception but
I see that freedom is quite the illusion.
I can stand (which is the standard improvement) but no –
Laying with the anticipation of falling.
Turning while on his back to distance himself
from overwhelming distraction; I think I am
wise to stay exactly where I am.
He comes at me with a look of hopeless obedience –
a time to do all this again, whenever the mood
tells the wind to turn a different direction. Towards
Me? Am I ready to accept the burden of normality?
And I note that I am all alone again.
Tissue
Every time I look back I see
whatever the hurt gave me.
Unfortunately this is the past
and is a part of my skin – ever growing
ever consuming and always refreshing.
That stain of time is in everything –
Opinion, questioning; the impression.
The birthmark of a judgement
Visible by my closest friend to judge.
They will always make their own opinion.
If I should taste bitterness; an exception
to the rule of equal treatment –
We are always here to remark on others
which is the way it will always be,
until the scar becomes a part of you.
Acceptance is the flesh that is never seen –
Fever flowing through a bursting vein.
I can improve and will try with a passion
in time things will be better – optimism
But it appears a long way away.
In-between worlds
When tomorrow comes as we all know it will
Seven hours and counting
to be the master again in my own place and time,
tomorrow.
Splashes of green that cannot be confused
and yet give the impression they are trying;
forcing through, though failing
Setting time.
Into the beams of a constant imagination
it is easy to fathom why, just why
the twisted sticks that sprout a confused state
cannot understand.
As six hours pass, some sleep maybe.
It seems to all be the same anyway; after all –
the colours are blended into brown (in time)
so I sleep with a certain, confused satisfaction.
Saturday.
Somehow
The room is now the key,
The battle’s always lost
It is never too late.
I am the room, I am the war
I am almost everything you’ve been looking for.
Give me the day, even today
And I’ll return the favour in my own special way.
Too late because, always because
Keeping the boundary was always without recourse.
The feeling today, feeling me now
Stopping the battle from raging at me somehow.
Play as you like, dance as you will
Flowing like music then stepping in for the kill.
I am the hate, I am the hope
I am that ticking on that slow and winding slope.
We are the now, you see us now
We keep on moving through civilization somehow.
Bury it all, heaven and Earth
Keeping the pace replenishing our feverish thirst.
Never too late, always to hide
Too many options to keep it all on our side.
It is never too late
It is never too late
It is never too late.
Winter is the loneliest season
My destination, it’s no frustration
my mind is turning and acting me this way –
No concentration, imagination
Frozen life out the window today, or any day.
A whiteness never seen when the light hits
Subduing the void,
A blanket over which the world never sets
It doesn’t matter any more.
No observation, just isolation
The lonely droplet freezing upon impact
Confrontation, bad complexion
A life internal would keep my way intact.
In keeping open, no location
This year-long season, only one of its kind
By staying focused, sideways motion
The warm air-breathing the soul inside.
Reanimation focusing when the day sweeps
breaking the sheet,
A spinning top of concentrated sparkle
To always relive the memories.
It’s archetypal, so impersonal
Those frozen eyes that always shine my way
Plainly static, not so dramatic
That motion forward compelling me to stay.
Winter is the loneliest season.
Momentarily Confused
When I jumped in the sky
All I saw was diamond
you were there
Not keeping your distance.
But then I turned
away from the brightness
The golden stare
And then it was done.
My eyes glare to the ground
And I trust no-one
Holding on
Broken fingers.
There was a hope
A cure for the shadows
But now I see
The diamond is now.
I was swept to the air
Completely my choosing
Hand in hand
We rested eternal.
The small regret
Of keeping your Diamond
A growing stain
Life as it should be.
Constant drain to the land
And suddenly upbeat
Needed help
Then it was calm.
To see you there
Living now as you can
A picture smile
Of me in your hands.
Time to talk day February 4th 2016.
I don’t remember the year but i used to write a great deal when i was feeling really low. It really helped me, however this one in particular hits a chord as it was a particularly bad day; i will say no more about that but i think archive memories are somewhat poignant. Just a little snippet as i don’t want to bore people with shoddy poetry!
March
Hopeless, endless
I fought back the tears
I paint a smile for everyone to see.
Wanting, breaking
everything I do
to keep myself together grinds me down.
Words of meaning
Numbness feeling cold
To formulate a plan and no return.
Happy, upbeat
Thrilled at my disguise
The pain in which I suffer is now gone.
I will learn to live on my own in the end.
I will learn to fight to keep myself alive.
I don’t want to feel joy like this anymore.
I know someday this weakness will hurt me more.
Different Danny 