Behind the mask

 

Konica128522

 

 

           Lostness    (101)

 

 

Sexualized offers soon began to arrive
after opening an e-mail address.

Promising male enhancement
firm arousals.
Even dates with eager
women.

I claimed to be a bit disturbed
being targeted these ways…

“How come total strangers know my wishes so well?”

I complained at chess club
in mock anxiety.

Attuned to such deviant banter
guys returned only laughs
not advice.

 

My humour, also, may fall flat…

“You shouldn”t put yourself down!”  Had been a response.

“Why let others have all the fun?” I answered.

Growing up criticised from birth, I found
when later aiming barbs toward myself
internal voices slightly mollified.

 

Identifying as a loser reduced effort, generally.
Achievement tended to involve discomfort.

Shared failures
soothing wounded egos.
Seeing great success can grate
upon defects
comparisons adding irritation.

Fame attracts new tides of gossip
keenly seeking hidden flaws.

 

But then, versus appearance
run desires to strip away
our social roles
uncovering who we “really” are.

 

Though analogy would yet mislead
if beyond such roles
lay increased nullity.

Results thus
less like shedding clothes
than tearing at the skin.

 

Or perhaps I’d just
wrongly imagined
again?

 

Creating
this fear
for removing a mask

that might lift off
some part of
my face.

 

 

 

(2011)

 


 

( Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.

Comments are very welcome!

I always look forward to hearing from visitors.

Thank you for reading.)

 


 

( anxiety / art / beauty / culture / depression / drawing / humour / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

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Unglimpsed destiny

 

scan 26

 

 

Lostness   (100)

 

 

An aged image casts a lure

as my gaze meets
once sighted eyes
past living.

What reflections might be heard
if these long silent lips could
regain speech?

 

In fading prints
of monochrome
I look upon them still:
Victorian and Edwardian days.
Quite close to ours
they feel.

 

When browsing books of photographs
collecting vintage scenes
where bustling city streets show
people stressed or hurried
chasing after needs which
seemed so vital then
but did not leave a trace.

Like those faces briefly
turned aside
forever now
concealed.

 

Around some corner
through old doorways…

They’ve all gone
ahead
before us.

 

Into darkness
well obscured.

Fared forth on
unglimpsed
destinies.

 

 

 

 

(2011)


 

 

 

scan 24

 

 

I was struck by how, from mid 20th century, viewers may know everyone seen in specific dated photographs could not possibly be alive.

Examining such reproductions of reality populated exclusively by the dead, is a fairly recent human experience. Just a few generations old.

 

 

scan 25

 

 

(Portraits used above are the only ones to survive from my grandparent’s youth:

Kathleen Regan (1896-1984) at first communion (1904).

Charles Webber (1900-1971) in uniform (1918).

And with his son (my uncle): Raymond Webber (1923-2017).

I honour and miss them all.)

 

 

While time remaining wanes
I live alone in lostness
as my failure to find love has left
the chain of family
broken.

 

 


 

 

( Comments especially welcome!

Opening the heart feels lonelier met by silence.

Thank you for reading.)

 

 


 

(art / beauty / books / depression / life / lostness / love / mental health / photography / poem / poetry / relationships / thoughts )

 

 

Prideful spirit

 

konica124971.jpg

 

 

Lostness   (99)

 

 

I search across the lighted page…

This portal made for mass distraction
holds me in its net.

More interesting than my time offline
here bearing social emptiness.

Languishing alone
unseen.
These many years beyond
all human care
or touch.

And being ill
enduring pain
our mind can start to thirst
for greater agency
chafing amid helplessness
under ruthless viral force.

 

Remembering
I met a few who chose
assertive faiths

which conjured up a
self-projected world
where things seemed props
around their stage
as animated nature
somehow
manifested will.

Such prideful spirit
set against soft pity
weakness, limits: could
then lead to blaming
patients for disease.

(Rationing our sympathy lets
conscience free, conveniently.
Recalling one I heard
excuse compassion’s loss
when that shrinking quality, in him,
appeared
already quite worn out
before it had been used.)

 

Just presume we did attain
a vision clear from
comforting delusion’s balm:
need this leave us much
except an uninspiring truth?

 

 

Confessing, though

(while knowing none might die
with inbox vacant)

I still aspired to closure
after realising
any life
including mine

should likely
stay
unfinished

even

as it
ends.

 

 

 

(2011)

 


 

(Art on the blog is by me: I hope you like it?

Comments are very welcome!

Have a virus which is thickening brain-fog.
Unsure if my writing works due to disorientation effects: making me slightly word-blind.

I’m finding it difficult to carry on blogging due to illness. Views are down; follows almost stagnant, sharing non-existent.
Feeling at a low ebb. Don’t know how to turn things around. Could anyone help?

Thank you for reading.)

 


(art / beauty / blog / culture / depression / drawing / illness / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

 

Zombie or vampire?

Konica1194

 

 

Lostness   (98)

 

 

People often resent what they’re forced to do
so why should the poor love work?

 

Some call on social transformation
yet revolutions rarely
end oppression: merely change oppressors.

Now globalists prefer consumers rootless
differences defanged
as just diverse.
Nothing prompting dying for
or fighting.
Culture in vast fashion statements
varied clothes plus wide food choice.

Once traditions have been undercut
those mourning them may get disdained.

Perhaps reports
on communism’s death
were slightly overdone
since it also served by propping up
our bloated capital?

Old antagonists continue
toxic codependency: where
thesis and antithesis promote
stasis before synthesis.

Still certain rebels find their
opposition shuns contentment.
Dissidence becomes life’s purpose
intolerant at long set ways
and furious for progress.

 

Violence forms a spectacle
while serenity does not.
Hence millions scan the broadcast news
or enjoy combat games.

 

Recently my onscreen view showed
rioters busy looting shops
they dragged away new psychic bonds
as extra TV sets.

Clutching shiny product’s flesh with
addict’s raging neediness.

(Resembling films:
when zombies rush
in mobs
like savage proles
compared to smarter vampire
aristocrats.)

 

Then noticing
alone
among the glass-strewn streets:

a single bookstore
stayed untouched

and only there
might one feel
tempted…

(wisdom’s value transcends cash)

…but

though
peace of mind
could be worth stealing

I doubt
it would
result

from
theft.

 

 

 

(2011)

 


 

(Any art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it?

Comments are very welcome!

My views remain small and it’s always nice to hear from readers.

Thank you for visiting.)

 


 

(art / beauty / books / culture / drawing / lostness / love / mental health / news / poem / poetry / politics / thoughts)

Woven shame

 

Konica10233

 

 

Lostness   (97)

 

 

How to love yourself?
Begin to feel worthy.

How to feel worthy?
Begin to love yourself.

 

I never fully opened up that loop…

But also knew
opinions
hid assumptions
ripe for questioning.
While firm views preferred no
undermining queries
over truth.

 

I mused:
computers, given will,
could be as hard to command
as cats?

Might gods escape all explanations
rather than supply them?

 

Did reason set the model wrong:
if few broke laws expecting Court
when impulse
undeterred by caution
raced along a reckless course?

 

However tough existence gets
some still affirm
so faith persists.

Though those like me found
any hunger
to believe
exceeded our capacity.

 

With modern comforts
misery sees less excuse
but stress churns on
in inner states of
spirit’s house arrest:

Where loneliness joins
dreading death and guilt
before my ancestors
(who preserved
their family line).

Unable to regain good health
or vital masculinity
the body I seem trapped inside
caged deeply woven shame.

 

Tired at pain, I turn
then gaze
toward that
black-framed pool
of silvered glass

As, once again,
this mirror
holds me captive…

Compelled yet
not attracted
by

the face

reflecting
there.

 

 

 


 

(2011)

 


 

(Any art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.

Comments are very welcome!

My audience remains quite small, and it’s always nice to hear from readers.

Thank you for visiting!)

 


( art / beauty / blog / depression / drawing / faith / life / lostness / love / mental health / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

 

 

Chance wisdom

 

Konica12852

 

 

Lostness   (96)

 

 

Answers may seem diminished
by a taint
of retrospective obviousness.

What I need are fewer facts
yet greater power
to mould emotions
round the known:

a self controlling
my own moods.

Not faking superficial coolness

(useful once
for youth’s bold pose)

to cover ego’s hidden wanting
many people’s fond esteem
as fame
that honours
things achieved.

 

I look across our profit culture
loudly advertising greeds
where vice takes
alibis from virtue
with signs of bright seduction
feigning love.

While speed displaces patience
losing respect for old age
progress breeds swift irritation
at those deemed standing
in its way.

 

Some rushing flees
a darker side
from boredom’s emptiness.

Or noticing
sad memory binds us

(like cold chains
of tight regrets)

through
time’s dimension
shaped by loss.

 

These feelings
active
drove my seeking
after
chance wisdom
in libraries.

(Though my quest
with this topic
soon flopped.)

 

I’ve seen books
on techniques
to remember.

 

But can’t find
one

on how
to forget.

 

 

 


 

(2010)

 


 

(Any art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.

Comments are very welcome!
My audience is quite small and things get really quiet on here most days, so it’s always nice to hear from people.

Thank you for reading.

I wish everyone a HAPPY NEW YEAR!)

 


 

( art / beauty / books / culture / depression / drawing / lostness / love / mental health / philosophy / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

 

Hyperhope

Konica1255

 

Lostness   (95)

 

 

We can try to heal our psychic wounds
magically: by love.

Though it may end badly…

 

External noise distracts me from my thought
so looking down the street
I see a drunk who’s veering toward strangers
demanding their response.

Delusive faith in popularity might
sense a peak while
near an actual trough.

Caricatured sociability repels
contacts made
intended to attract.

 

This amoral machine: the city
generates excess.
Surplus humans, countless objects.

Now I also class myself
among unneeded ones.

The lost.

 

Life and suffering.
Buddha was right to link them.

But if his methods do not work for us
at transforming pain
once such practice stalls
there dawns that fear of
sinking through despair.

 

Picking up my pen I wrote:

Nihilism from the intellect
atrophy of will.

Illness ruins everything.

And yet…

Beyond eccentric hyperhope
on virtual cyber-heaven

Or biology’s hormonal drugs
where passion’s lust has cured distaste
in other bodies

Perhaps
after all
a point is reached
when

with our actions
or our words

We shall still
enjoy
to fight against

an indifferent
world

 

and fail.

 

 

 


 

(2010)

 


 

( Any art on the blog is mine. I hope you like it?

Comments are very welcome!

It’s so nice to hear if someone finds a post worthwhile.

Thank you for reading.)

 


 

( anxiety / art / beauty / culture / depression / drawing / lostness / love / mental health / philosophy / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

Worshipping beauty

 

 

Konica128516

 

 

 

Lostness   (94)

 

 

Art worships the injustice of beauty.

 

In my case, from afar.

Since any work was summoned forth
through ugliness
which I’ve been forced
lifelong
to endure.

Where much creating
could not faintly compensate
on lacking nature’s charms.

Stuck feeling like some freak
who wears a masking shame
I’d rather hide from
what is loved.

 

Genes have no concept of fairness.
That’s more a cry for those
condemned by disadvantages.

Such I craved to overcome:

escaping my unwanted self
in fantasy utopias

(envisioned glinting their
transcendency
while drifting toward sleep).

 

When young I found
a woman’s spell
also intimidates
revealing an unfitness
thus
fearing my unworthiness
had proved it true.

Inexperience was weakening
subverting brief romance.

Then muscled hunks soon
brushed aside a poet.

 

 

Seeing now
but decades late a
pattern made:
her gaze transfixing
sensing insecurity
once doubt’s erosion showed
before two stark incisive eyes.

The stronger an attraction was
the deeper my unease.

 

 

And so repeated
disappointments
chilled
this wasted heart

which beat
lone time

across these
empty years.

 

 

 

 

(2010)

 


 

( Any art on the blog is mine. I hope you like it. Comments are very welcome!
My audience is quite small, and I love to hear if anyone finds a post worthwhile.
Thank you for reading.)

 


 

 

( anxiety / art / beauty / culture / depression / drawing / lostness / love / mental health / poem / poetry / relationships / thoughts )

 

 

 

 

Kinder conquest

 

 

Konica1187

 

 

Lostness   (93)

 

 

While hate, in others, looks extreme
we often see good reason for our own.

 

Vice is too rewarding
to be entirely left behind.

Hence anger could well clasp offence
as focus of an inner stress.

Scant evidence which vindicates
can bring a short relief.

 

Yet, should want
plus sensed entitlement
become deserving rights
these soon inflame
at nagging faults
with sad reality.

Heaping more frustrations over
still fermenting rage.

 

Suffering need not make us nicer.
Victims might grow merciless in
victory, when pride demands
great recompense.

 

Once armed
a doctrine gains
self-serving force.
Where bias blinds
less crimes seem unforgivable
if targeting
correct disfavoured groups.

Vengeful movements used to work
at hiding guilty secrets
newer versions, missing shame
show pictures
post event.

 

After harmful acting out
an understanding may be sought
and so one hears excuses sound
in softer hearts
like codependent abusees
appease bad-tempered bullying
holding back from bolder speech
they tiptoe round to keep
a peace that rarely lasts
for long.

 

Later
conflict starts again.

Best maintain patience, anyway

just hoping, somehow
kindness, caring,
empathy

will spread worldwide

and conquer all.

 

Admittedly
it’s hard to find

an empire won
by love.

 

 

 

 

(2010)

 


 

 

(Any art on the blog is mine. Comments are very welcome!)

(Am very ill and low at present: finding it hard to keep this going.
Viral attack is further impeding concentration. Hope my writing makes sense?
Thank you for reading.)

 


 

( art / beauty / culture / depression / drawing / ideas / lostness / love / mental health / philosophy / poem / poetry / politics )

 

Resumed voyaging

 

Konica1198-1

 

 

Lostness   (92)

 

 

 

For almost three years I couldn’t write a line.

Life in chaos
mind submerged
by darkness
agitation, stress, anxieties.

Forced from home a second time.

 

But two months after moving out
I opened my old notebook at an empty page
and put down 2010’s first entry…

 

“Imagining others are as incapable of faith as oneself.
A nihilistic hubris?”

 

 

Then came:

“Apocalyptic fantasy: nourishing resentful spirits.
Solipsists who’d take whole worlds along
on last goodbyes.
Oblivion universalised.”

 

 

Too unwell for upbeat, still
the next part read:

“Certain states rely upon denial;
of incompatibilities, suppressed hostilities,
psychic energies: sublimated or expressed,
attracting and repelling, asymmetric animus
from sides most triggered, nursing ardent hatreds
in the name of love.

So sexed-up cultures may offend
traditions wedded to austerity,
with tolerance seeming weaker
when neutrality proves impotent
against fiercer cries.

Though even optimism,
grown dogmatic,
might repress us
alleging our own good.

While those lacking ideology, perhaps
retreat through irony, plus sneers.

 

Truth has a tendency
to arrive too late.”

 

 

Such thoughts were hardly pleasant
and remained unshared.

Yet at least my pen had
resumed
voyaging

by leaving marks
which traced ideas

across
this fresh

white space.

 

 

 

 

(2010)

 


 

(Any art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it. Comments are very welcome!)

 

(PS: Have been very ill and low recently, finding it hard to keep going, would be really nice to hear from someone.
It gets so quiet on my site, with such a tiny audience.

Thank you for reading.)

 


 

( anxiety / art / beauty / depression / drawing / ideas / lostness / mental health / philosophy / poem / poetry / thoughts / writing )