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 )

 

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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 )

 

 

 

 

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 )

The nemesis of antipathy

 

Konica12855

 

 

Lostness   (91)

 

 

Wouldn’t a compassionate god enjoy releasing souls from Hell
rather than prolonging their pain?

 

This question abruptly occurred in my head
though having no source of reply.

 

And even if it had
I anticipated some intellectual resistance
toward simple explanations
(anyone might understand those).

 

 

My mind soon turned to dwell upon
more personal concerns.

How totally love shunned me
yet I still attracted hate
(at times not really knowing why).

Being especially wary once such feelings stirred
around stupidity

perhaps provoking hostile action beyond
reason’s calculation
given dispositions lacking thought.

 

Lives can be ruined
over trivia
amid crowded city stresses
where excess noise
also amplifies mistrust.

 

Further disappointment
is the frequency ill-will
gets re-encountered
while people I desire to see are
rarely met again.

I call it: “The nemesis of antipathy”.

 

My problem isn’t staying
quietly in my room

but finding neighbours
quite content
to do the same.

 

 

 

 

(2007)

 


 

 

These were my last lines from 2007.

Drug dealers moved in below me. A nightmare began.

Three months of harassment, threats, and floor-vibrating din, later:
I had been driven out, after 15 years.

Nerves shattered, I ended-up in an old people’s home, on medical grounds.
But by then I was so sensitised to intrusive electronic sound that the TV and radio noise coming through the walls kept causing symptoms.

I felt trapped; grew depressed and suicidal.

Not until I transferred to my current flat, which took 3 distressing years (in 2010), could I manage any more writing…

 

 


 

 

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

 


 

( anxiety / art / depression / drawing / hate / life / lostness / love / mental health / philosophy / poetry / thoughts / writing )

 

 

Struck by deja poo

 

Konica10234

 

 

Lostness   (90)

 

 

 

My body jumps as a mailshot lands
quite loudly on the hallway floor

“Giving you what you want!’

Proclaims its headline.

The leaflet shows alcohol plus discount meats
not health and friends or inner peace.

A non-drinking vegetarian: I was unimpressed
at bold assumption’s impudence.

This occurred while sat upon the lavatory
struck by deja poo

sudden feelings I’d already been before.

 

Concentration scattered
I returned to the main room
there my notebook still lay open
and a recent entry asked:

“Sensing their power over us, might we expect
latent unconscious resentment
against our beloved?”

 

(Posed hypothetically.
Since I endure life within a love-free zone.)

 

 


 

 

Continuing, I read three more…

 

“Those peeved at the insults of judgement
may prefer other people unraised.”

 

“Reducing unhappiness seems more viable
than pressured positivity.”

 

“If what we are results from what we’ve been,
why exactly were we that?
Is identity dependant on ungrasped knowledge
of the past?”

 

 


 

 

 

Being prey to disconnected thoughts
written down for respite
leading nowhere

I mutter “Cogito ergo bum”
in vague frustration

hungry now
so heading kitchenward

avoiding all involvement with the mirror:

that getting drawn
by visual faults too
clearly sighted
from
a critic’s eye.

 

Because my face
remained one problem

mind alone had
always
failed

to solve.

 

 

 

 

(2007)

 

 


 

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

 


 

( anxiety / art / beauty / depression / drawing / life / lostness/ love / mental health / philosophy / poetry / thoughts / writing )

 

“Before you die!”

 

Konica1189

 

Lostness   (89)

 

 

That passion to be known
which rages in obscurity

among those craving fame
while long oppressed
by wounding insignificance.

 

Once people felt constraint
from often being seen.

Now cities spread a stressful
anonymity
where visual culture gives
non-appearance taints of
nothingness.

 

Should we embrace our humble fate
not take demanding ego’s prompt at
vainly chasing special praise?

 

Though some lone individuals
lacking faith in what’s beyond
think dying ends their only world.

An apocalypse for one.

 

 

Religion’s wake spawns techie dreams
transcending weak humanity
envisioning uploaded minds.

So hoping vaster data’s grace
permits becoming animate as
ghosts in new machines.

Yet aspirations to spectrality derive
from basic dread of
darkness, fathomless.

 

Older souls might here bemoan the
rotten luck at getting born, perhaps,
in final generations facing
total voids
outside much chance
for virtual
immortality.

 

 

Then I read these (numbered):

“…things to do before you die!”

A current media cliche
tempting us to overrate experience.

As if death’s dire severity were
offset with a well-ticked list
and items added on could
compensate our missing
an eternity or
memories from
what we did.

But instead
my brain
stayed haunted
by

the monster

of extinction.

 

 

 

(2006)

 


 

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

 


 

 

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

 

 

 

 

Led astray

 

konica1200.jpg

 

 

 

Lostness   (86)

 

Like a youth resenting parents

certain rebels have turned harshly
on their origins.

Favouring antagonists
now sided with

escaping blame
since always
viewed as right.

 

Once doubts get impermissible
any power shuns restraint

finding evidence superfluous
for criteria of faith.

Over doctrines claimed infallible
humility’s soon lost

how are groups less confident
defended from such force?

Can shrinking introspection halt
those lusting to expand?

 

Intellect may not be fitter
at survival
seeing reason create
nihilists
human future could belong
among the dullards.

 

Do people rise to fight
for simple questioning?

 

Perhaps thought
leaves mainly hunger
in the place where falsehood
serves its sweeter stories.

 

While suffering still mocks us
through comparisons

deeming strangers greater

so we listen
thirsty
for the tales they tell.

 

Some are even led astray
by fools or rogues
who might be cheered
watching others
act as badly
as themselves.

 

 

Without a better answer
for life’s problems

we shall cede
continued triumphs

to the lie.

 

 

 

 

(2006)

 


 

 

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

Each week, due to illness, my body signals I should give this up,
but the likes and comments encourage me to keep going.

So thank you all for reading!)

 

 


 

( anxiety / art / beauty / culture/ drawing / faith / history / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / politics / thoughts )

Ghost life

 

Konica10235

 

 

 

Lostness   (82)

 

 

Can we have nostalgia for the present

 

detecting loss within these moments
even
while they’re here?

 

Once sadness brews a
dread of time

Recalling how
youth hoped
good things would happen…

Now adulthood fears they won’t
and
if old age is reached
it may regret
so much
one never did.

 

Yet should I
beware
assuming consequents
when Y does not truly follow X?

(Like those promiscuous
analogies
my verbal hunger
often fed.)

Why expect coherence after
long surveys of thought
unless mind
or self
are unities?

Perhaps such systems
only understand
a level
formed less complex

hence the brain which fails
to grasp full knowledge
of its works.

Below awareness
nature needing boundaries

that guard innate from alien

forcing vital duty on a fast
immune response.

 

Again
arising to more conscious states

identity
must fend off chaos

though strong will resents
any limit
but its own.

 

 

As subjects
childhood put us at
the centre of our world

until we saw all others
disagreed.

 

A blow extended later
by rejections

ending
with this sense:

society excludes me

since, alone,
unnoticed
year on year
I pass just strangers

as some ghost might
wander

in an
outcast silence

through

the living.

 

 

 

 

(2003-2004)

 

 


 

 

(Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.
Comments are very welcome!
Thank you for reading.)

 

 


 

 

(anxiety/art/beauty/blog/depression/drawing/life/loneliness/lostness/mental health/poem/poetry/thoughts)

 

Morphing

 

Konica102310

 

 

Lostness   (70)

 

 

The loud persons pleasure
can be a quiet persons pain.

 

Some move within a noise-cloud
in sounds of self forgetting
creating asymmetric stress.

 

Fragile equilibriums
are easily disrupted

even
by love.

 

(And one achieving parity
may no longer marry up.)

 

But my thoughts diverted here
toward fresh questions…

 

Whether half-truths could be harder
to refute than lies
hence
comparably dangerous?

Or eternal vigilance might also form a price
for falsity?

Would relativists: accused unfairly
appreciate a unitary view
that acts against injustice?

 

 

Next

recalling

where certain writers use
impenetrable complexity
as if mere clarity
were too vulgar.

How critics resembling
intellectual porcupines
of cerebral hostility
root irritably after faults.

 

Should we prefer art
standing free
from explanation’s crutch?

 

 

Abruptly

then

a story concept
came to mind

about morphing text
altering
each time it was read.

 

Yet
isn’t that what good books often do:

keep opening
new views through their words

showing memory’s
elusive flaws?

 

Consequently
I abandoned the idea
(fantasy scarcely being my genre)

 

Though suddenly
the beginning of a different tale
spoke clear

Saying:

 

“Boredom pressed upon him like a misshapen hat.”

 

 

Now I waited
watchful
for the rest…

 

…Which

did not emerge.

 

So I stayed

Vainly feeling aspirations
while the muse
had other calls to make.

Thus
that supposed
first line
remains.

Alone.

Like me.

 

 

 

 

(2001)

 


 

 

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

 

 


 

 

(anxiety/beauty/depression/drawing/life/loneliness/lostness/mental health/poetry)

 

 

 

 

Help! It’s my birthday…

 

Konica12496

 

 

Have you ever read about those people who die alone at home
and are finally discovered months later?

I used to think:

“How could anyone become so isolated?”

Now, I already seem to be headed that way.

Last of the family line.
No lovers. No close friends.
No carers. No visitors.
No letters. No phone calls
No social media.
No-one to miss me.

Unpaid bills might lead to investigations…

Eventually.

 

Thus, I fear such an end: unless I can break free of solitude.

 

But my body traps me inside the invisible cage of illness.

 

I have suffered from M.E. for 31 years.
Feeling like flu coming on…

(pain, aching, exhaustion, brain fog, sensitivity to sound, light, etc.)

…every day.

For life.

 

Coping can be tough.

Any additional problems tend to overwhelm.
And, in my case, there are plenty more:

Anxiety, mood-swings, insomnia, TMJ, PTSD, herpes, migraine, IBS, depression, stress,
kidney stones, pancreatic insufficiency, chronic vertigo…

 

Struggling with this, across three decades, has worn me down.

Recovery grows unimaginable.

Expectations need reduction.

I still hold many interests.
Though lack energy to practice them.

 

Facing another birthday, alone,
too ill to go out,
I resolved to distinguish it
with an extra blog post.

Also, by trying something childhood abuse does not make the easiest option for me:

Reaching out to others.

 

 

Best wishes to you all!

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

NB: (June 30th 2018)

I want to thank everyone for all the lovely comments;
and Sara in LaLaLand for her great kindness!

It was a wonderful surprise.

Thank You!

 

(anxiety/art/birthday/blog/loneliness/lostness/mental health/poetry/thoughts/writing)