Walk Life to the End

To walk,

is to begin again,

I feel my life coming to an end.

I feel young,

but age has withered me away.

Bringing older,

Silvery tinged skin.

Was the frustration of family,

the only thing that anchored me?

With it gone,

sailing free has broken the dream.

I’d wish for a midlife crisis,

if I could afford the toys,

but the breakdown will have to suffice.

The loss of interest, question, wonder.

Sanity forsakes me.

Boredom relegates me

To less than the sum of my parts,

Roll out the carpet.

• 01/01/2018, Ngatimoti

2016

I couldn't be this person in their lives. I had to be me in my own life.

Draft Version

As I fall again into Depression,
This weight is something more than I can stand.
And again, Gravity will play the robber,
        again and again and again.
        The thief persuading me to fight against it
        like I had a chance.

I’m sorry for the bruises
I inflicted upon you,
I never meant harm
only to have you with me.
        Just in case.

Creases and folds of your pages,
Slight tears to the edges,
Shoved into my bag with my shoes
So I can walk the beach
        an observational disaster,
        Lucky for the reprints, Barber

Here I sit 7km out
to do some writing,
But I can barely hold this pen.
        Dribbling across the page
        38 on an infant stage

If the strength of my calves,
Could be transferred to these fingers,
If some kind of inspiration
Could ravish my brain

Instead of the sunken skin across my face
Pulling at my bones, dragging down my crown
Threatening to reveal the tears sidling under the balls of
        my white eyes.

If there was another way, Marlowe
To survive the death,
And still be remembered
Would the pseudonym fit the words?

Or would they bleed another lie from the quill,
Like all half-truths when distilled?
        Begging for more explanations
        As though rational deductions
        Could change the outcomes.

        I was a summer squall
        Crashing waves upon the shore,
        Ignoring the heat of the beating sun
        Exiting my return with a plumb

A life in verse
Remember the lines,
        remember the lines,
Avoid the curse,
       It was all for naught.

• 18/01/15, Gisborne

If I have to commit to something, why shouldn't it be the one thing that I care about, or want to do, the most?

You can point your finger all you like at one person's bad habits, but it won't change the problems that already exist within the system.

'In Bed With Flowers' by Amy Stretch-Parker

 Absolutely love this song.

Best Words

I laboured for many years under the idea that I needed other people to make me happy. I realised one day that only I could make myself happy by accepting that I didn't need others to make me better or 'more' than what I was - I have and always will be what I am. My happiness is my own, and through that I can choose to accept the joy and happiness that others might bring to me.

Posted as a comment at www.facebook.com/TheBestWords, Feb 13, 2013

Chameleon

I said "I don't fit in here" and mentioned that I can't wait to leave. You looked at me with those gloriously dull ember-burnt eyes and told me that you're like one of those lizards "an Iguana, no - a chameleon" and that you fit in wherever you go. But what I didn't tell you, is that I don't fit in anywhere: everywhere I go, I feel like I stand apart, separated and unbelonging.
        You told me you'd miss your friends. I smiled. I knew that I would miss no one, but I would always remember you and wonder what could have been if things, life, or the world, could have been different; if I hadn't kept my distance in an attempt at protecting myself, if you had been brave enough to throw down the gauntlet and issue the challenge.
        If only. If only your hair wasn't a frame that belies the loneliness behind those autumnal eyes, I would not be struck with a gaze struggling to look away. And I would surely be a stronger man without cursed fear determining the length of every stare.
        But if only is a story, and our lives will part ways - a sunset on the horizon, a twinkling night overhead.
        I may forget others but I'll remember you. Remember me too.

Acknowledging Personal Tragedy

"Many people spend an inordinate amount of emotional effort on deluding themselves into thinking that they have not experienced any tragedy. They are afraid to acknowledge the sadness they feel because it can be all-consuming and interfere with normal social relations. In public, we are expected to swallow our sadness. We try not to cry or to express our sentiments too openly. This is part of a grand conspiracy. If everyone acknowledged the reality of tragedy, we would realise how painful life really is.

"I have never felt comfortable deluding myself into thinking that my pain isn’t so bad. If I feel a great loss, it gives me no comfort knowing that others have lost more, are more confused, or have had worse things happen to them. My feelings are my own, and I cannot compare them with other people’s feelings. My pain and yours will always be different. We don’t have any way of gauging its abundance. But ignoring it is nothing more than delusional." (p.123)

- Greg Graffin, Anarchy Evolution (2010)

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