Poetry
Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.
Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry
Looking In
I close my eyes.
Where once there was vividness
There is now a vague blur.
Stories and visions intermingle
A kaleidoscope of confusion.
Words and non-words alike
Are spoken and responded to.
The allure of reality is lost,
Replaced by the bliss of the abyss.
The joy of not knowing
Is ever more tempting.
Closing my eyes to avoid it all,
To get to where release was once felt.
But no more.
The avalanche of memory greets me.
I cannot escape the pain inside.
I long to let it go.
To let it all go.
A System Of Inequality
It feels like
I’ve been preparing
My entire life
For a moment that will never come
My body is tense
My mind is sharp
Yet I have nothing to do
With such focus
There is no enemy to fight
No emergency to survive
No monumental struggle to overcome
Nothing other than this day
And the next and the one after that
What glory is there to be found
In the daily grind?
How can I be proud of defeating
The mere anxiety of surviving the moment?
. . .
I crave catastrophe
And ache for the apocalypse
Not as a nihilist
But as a person without purpose
There’s little joy to be found in a job
Creating just to consume
Producing just to procreate
Done daily until death
I am a man without meaning
Readying myself for revelation
When survival isn’t assured life is serious
The useless artefacts will fall away
What actually matters will materialise
Focus will be forced towards functionality
Distracting decadences will be discarded
Leaving nothing but the struggle of life
Perhaps then I’ll find real purpose
Maybe existence will feel equanimous
. . .
How privileged
Am I
To lament
The ease of my life
I am blessed
To have never seen war
Or suffering
I am blessed
Yet that blessing
Feels like a curse of meaning
Without an enemy to fight
Without an obstacle to overcome
All this feels dulled
Life feels like a shadow
A mockery of everything I was promised
Thus I create my own demons
Faceless oppressors
That cannot be seen
Or overcome
Then I cry about my problems
Like they actually exist
Writing angsty poems
From a place of privilege
. . .
As a child
I learnt
Vigilance
To survive
I slept light
A knife under my pillow
Waiting for an attack
That attack never came
But I still sleep light
And have made my body into a weapon
I am still vigilant
Waiting for the attack
That will never come
Adulting, Would Not Recommend
Adulting, would not recommend.
There’s just too damn much to comprehend.
Work, work, work, work, no time for my friend.
Now look at that, my life’s about to end.
I do not rate,
My current adult state,
Always running late,
Trying to put food on my plate.
Money, money, money, I never have enough.
Not for the rent, bills or any fun stuff.
There’s no wonder why we are all so gruff,
Yelling on the inter-webs, acting so tuff.
It’s just back pain,
And weight gain.
It’s rushing all day,
With no time to play.
It’s the not knowing,
Yet having to keep going.
It’s our parents’ lack of understanding,
Of what our world is actually demanding,
Of our real struggle to maintain our standing,
No chance to get ahead, no interest compounding.
Boomers think they know the score,
They’re just lucky to be born after the war.
A time of prosperity let their incomes soar,
Making them think there will always be more.
Criticising us with self-righteous impunity,
For squandering a ‘glorious opportunity’.
In a world of growing disunity,
How can they expect such immunity?
Thing is, we can’t fight back,
There is no true enemy to attack.
Just another generation protecting their own,
And yelling from the safety of their home.
Besides when would we have the time to fight?
The third job’s got us up all night.
Adulting, I would not recommend.
But please let’s no longer pretend,
That our problems are gonna magically mend,
By venting with an angry tweet send.
You could protest it on the street,
With the 99% speaking with their feet,
Or perhaps a BLM meet,
Yell, scream and hope to defeat.
But the problem is that they have the power,
They can wait a longer hour.
They can direct the tear gas shower,
With the riot police to make us cower.
Also did I mention, the world is warming?
There’s racist divisions and politicians performing.
Economic collapse from COVID’s storming,
And European war is transforming.
Too many problems to simultaneously comprehend,
Let alone act with any hope to end.
There’s no opportunity to transcend,
Only ways to further offend.
Adulting, would not recommend.