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)

 


 

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Quiet force

 

Konica102314

 

 

Lostness   (88)

 

 

Beliefs are like a gravity
which shapes our thinking space.

 

Once taught a thing was moral
one felt better doing it.

So is habit truly ethical
or good taste just preferred bias?

 

Suppose ideas could rank along
a gradient of credulity
according to extreme content
and how much theory each require.

Atheists should have few demands
for doctrine
taking lives to be as
mundane as they seem.

 

While an attribution spiral
might account for certain myths
where nature’s motions
given agency
were reified with spirit.

 

Later, lauding openness
hints at virtue
in naivety.

Suggestions all
“create their own reality”: perhaps abused
by those who seek
to dull the pain
compassion spikes
observing others suffering.

Dismissal shields a
greater guilt

(hence some
scorning “love’s illusion”
on exclusion from such realms).

 

Truths abandoned
soon clear ways for
more self-serving
types of faith.

Though still our
charitable lies
maintain the gift
to blunt a crueller
honesty.

 

 

But

these thoughts got interrupted

as a slight
yet fragrant breeze
through my open window
blew
new smells
resembling freshly laundered
air.

 

 

And thus I caught
its first faint sign

 

that quiet force

 

of spring.

 

 

 

(2006)

 

 


 

 

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(art/ beauty/ blog/ drawing/ faith/ ideas/ lostness/ love/ mental health/ poem/ poetry/ thoughts/ truth)

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)

 

 


 

 

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

 

Nearer purgatory

 

 

Konica12556

 

 

Lostness   (81)

 

 

Being ill is tough
even in a nice place

but to face decline
surrounded
by a cast of fools
rubs salt on wounds.

And for each “neighbour from hell”
are several nearer purgatory

whose favoured noises enter
unwelcome
through thin walls

evoking basic territoriality

plus
learned helplessness

when we see
the first few times
attempts at change
that use persuasion
getting spurned
since none find their own sound too loud
(or they would have already
turned it down, themselves).

After action makes situations worse
spawning new enemies
stress now spirals round
in restlessness.

 

Proximity requires consideration:
once it’s lost
only clumsy instruments
such as law
remain
aiding sides to embrace victimhood
and justify severity.

People fight over almost anything
(though certain theories view social conflict
in one dimension).

I began to fantasise about
estates for introverts
with residents who prefer
a quiet read.

 

Then
standing up
I note
outside
grey spectrum spread
from clouds to concrete

full urban drab

existence giving hints
at realism:
the world too dull
to be a dream.

 

My gloom ferments
these unlit words

 

why seek more beautiful
expression of
this suffering?

 

I just want to not

be feeling it.

 

 

 

 

(2003-2004)

 

 


 

 

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One-sided love

 

Konica1195

 

 

Lostness   (80)

 

 

Better to think ourselves condemned
by genius

under spirit’s goad

than labelled “waster”

as I negatively judge
my current drifting

too exhausted for creation

seeking partial refuge
in retreat with books

a confined existence
measured via pages read

while more social life
would need the strength
that illness stole.

 

Here
reluctant
being pushed
to recognise
once a body
is no longer fit
for fresh romance
the mind attempts accommodating failure.

 

Yet biology resists
fate’s dismissive verdict

now made even harder after
unexpected
recent meetings
with a woman found adorable

when I sensed old wounds
of learned unworthiness
reopen through my
newly confused heart

default self-loathing
shielded from her power

preserving sterile isolation
against imagined merging
where this small world could be
shattered in assent.

 

How soon the arid
grown familiar
fields its dusty armour at
subversive reciprocity.

 

 

But such speculations
only wove some inflamed dreams

as avoided risk
ensured
fulfillment never came.

Vital words remained unsaid
and masked emotions
kept restrained
to spare our fragile sharing any
awkwardness.

 

So I later
felt sad waves
from missed
one-sided love

diminished
like a fading grief

though nothing had been lost

except
my hope.

 

 

 

 

(2003-2004)

 

 


 

 

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Disruptive joy

 

Konica1197

 

 

Lostness   (79)

 

 

I watch a couple walking past.

One face wore the sort of controlled blankness
useful around jealous partners.

It triggers memory…

A woman I once dated
who would abruptly ask:
“You like her, don’t you?”
about another female
barely noticed.

My surprise
before pausing to consider
if attraction could ignite
at this specific instance
may not have been the best response
but reflex denial
seemed less honest.

She later left me, after all.

And so has everybody else.

Hence I search reflections
in my lostness
that attempt to conjure sense
amid futility.

 

Yet any cynical defences
might still get swiftly pierced
from kindness.

Perhaps I should even distrust
the slowly setting concrete of depression
when a simple act
could be enough
to undermine constraint
against responsive feeling.

Recently exampled
where
along some sunlit path
the happy child had spun
behind a mother’s back
and shared discreet expression
of its joy with me
as I fought an urge
which drew a hand
to briefly
land my gentlest pat
(unseen by others)
on the little upturned head.

Thus we parted
trailing smiles.

Though mine soon faded
through more musing

formed across such
rare disruption

to this dismal
constant

called
aloneness.

 

 

 

 

(2001/2003)

 

 


 

 

 

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(art/beauty/blog/depression/drawing/life/lostness/mental health/poem/poetry/relationships/thoughts/writing)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contrary stance

 

Konica12501

 

 

 

Lostness    (78)

 

 

 

Absence of desire

can be felt as loss
or liberation.

 

Watching advertisements
feeding need for things
which faith was meant to ease.

 

Arts have also craved
a standing beyond
disdained normality

there titles gain allure
before toil begins.

(Hence aspiring authors who may
sooner dream than write.)

Stories ripen
and want telling
lacking value
if unshared.

Cultures laud their fabrication
yet it might be reframed
a skillful form of fidgeting
chosen since we cannot rest content
with simply being.

 

Then I though of works where
an urge to shock
grew tedious

like a drunk set quarrelsome
fixated on the same contrary stance
deflecting any hope
for wider love.

 

 

While others revered
the exotic
holding what is local in contempt
perhaps lured by sensing secrets?

(Recalling those that
post-disaster
turn
to Nostradamus over Camus
fate covering
absurd indecencies of pain.)

 

Now
following assault
through centuries
upon significance
displacing older human-centred views
cold science leaves undimmed
the thirst for fame.

 

Are we
at times unwise
neglecting
drawbacks possible
from raising certain spikes among
some stranger’s envy?

 

Belief has often led to conflict.

 

Even beauty
spurred ugly deeds

once

(driven by obsession)

pure ends

excused indulgence

in a cruelty
of means.

 

 

 

 

(2003)

 

 


 

 

 

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Potential ecstasy

 

Konica1027

 

 

 

Lostness   (77)

 

 

 

Many grow dissatisfied with partners

yet fewer doubt their choosing skills.

 

I fail beforehand
since unhappy circumstance prevents
my attaining coupledom.

Plus often getting drawn to those
by whom I was disliked

or others
unapproachable
glimpsed crossing city streets
heedless of a stranger’s eye.

Perhaps the most attractive
seeming colder
in case kindness lit
an unjust hope?

 

Beauty making spirits rise

but remembering, also,
such good looks
could render less articulate
certain crucial moments
where my words had wished
to shine.

 

Hence dates resembling interviews
adding unexpected tests
when emotional nakedness felt stark
as sitting nude
while missing a CV

dreading brutal
judgement

or bare indifference
showing plain
full absence from desire.

 

 

Once daydreaming
a far-fetched notion
near conspiracy
occurred
around unspoken female union acting to ensure
this continued isolation.

(Paranoia at least dramatised
the banality
of low status.)

 

 

However
being fairer

women do sometimes talk to me
about their lives

on the understanding
that I’m not
involved in them.

 

Then later
all too soon
they leave
in search of love
and don’t return.

 

Lost like muses
passing beyond sight

 

each one potential
for an ecstasy

which I

shall never know.

 

 

 

 

(2003)

 

 


 

 

 

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(depression/drawing/life/lostness/mental health/poem/poetry/relationships/thoughts)

 

 

 

 

Hidden soundtrack

 

 

Konica1026

 

 

 

Lostness   (76)

 

 

 

Perhaps they had it wrong about Creators?

We might explain life more
picturing deities who
enjoy our suffering.

 

Yet
at libraries
I also browsed the “Spirit” shelf
as if searching after absent recompense
for my inherent maladaptation.

 

Amid thought’s discomfort then
considering an idea:

that one should give up attempted penetration
to instead remain
upon the surfaces of things
in vigilant shallowness.

Turned away from metaphysics
(like old repressions around sex)
struggling toward silence
over words best left unsaid

Avoided through aseptic logic
plus therapeutic strategies

Suspecting any opaque realms
by their obscure interiority

So preferring drawing blank
across such latent soul
or unquiet desire.

 

 

But behind this
later linked

a recollecting
out of childhood

first remembered moral rules
learnt among shouting and abuse
(bound to problems with authority)

A voice which sneered
its covert verdict:

“You can never be punished enough

for the crime
of existing.”

 

 

His harshness lives on inside me
calling primal curses down
introjected before reason
could answer back.

Lodged adjoining endless shame
where hostility had
displaced love.

 

Now I come to no relationship
unscathed.

 

While
beneath these lines

lying

still unheard

 

that hidden soundtrack

of rage

 

and stifled
cries.

 

 

 

 

(2002)

 

 


 

 

 

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(art/books/culture/depression/drawing/lostness/mental health/poem/poetry/thoughts/writing)

Robust stupidity

 

Konica102312

 

 

Lostness   (75)

 

 

Things could get worse

if evolution selects against
ability to understand itself
favouring more robust stupidity.

An existence surrounded by
those safe from thought
fleeing silence
in cocoons of loud distraction.

Where any greatness will be judged
among inferiors.

As a few worship what they cannot comprehend
others instead
reject defensively
when convenient.

(Notice some
becoming rich
decide poverty merits suffering.)

Nobility resenting obligation
further speeds decay.

 

Cultural symbols need endurance
since lasting long enough
acquires veneers of meaning
though these can end up
mouldering once
fixed
like moths
pinned across an old display case.

Reincarnation
minus memory
seems blind.

And absurdity
gains little sense
via simple repetition.

 

Yet ideas tend to rank
before the real.

Where atheists face a void
belief views death
already overthrown.

 

But sceptics
incapable of piety
at times could lazily assume
zealots were only acting out appearances
as they invite all strangers in.

Perhaps strong doctrines
will grow to occupy
open places of escape.

Toleration hopes such groups
self-moderate
trusting extremity
is detachable from faith.

 

 

When intuitions clash
are matters found resolved
through reason
or by force?

 

 

Knowing grievance
so often fuels reprisal

prompts the question
on how many
grasping total power

might then leave no broken
people
in their wake?

 

 

 

(2002)

 

 


 

 

 

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(culture/depression/drawing/life/lostness/mental health/poem/poetry/thoughts/writing)