Truth

Should I give them up

my pockmarked truths?

(Each scar-shamed one.)

 

Are they deemed
too blunt and ugly, now?

(Although hard-won.)

 

As if unearthed
dirt-bound

like postholes under
abandoned ancient sites

which only speak
to us
in ash.

 

In charcoal’s black.

From lives undone.

By sufferings
that came on fast.

Remorselessly
unjust.

 

And where

(however much
its victims strove
at staying strong)

Fate’s sharpened heel
then ground things down.

Unto this
trace.

Unnamed.
Unhallowed.

Charred
across deep soil.

 

So to ask

(today)

Do I tell them still:
these damnably
unwelcome truths?

 

Or let what I know
be taken

cancelled

snatched
by
(that thieving death’s-hand)
time?

Or silenced
via law
and dogmas?

 

Either way

(it feels)

I shall
finish

lost.

 

Burning

in censored

exile.

 

 

Or

forgot.

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

 

(Post-poem musing)

 

 

 

Defeat code

 

 

 

Lies may be popular
yet still pollute the soul.

I’ve seen them spread.

Of course, I speak as mere outsider.
Reject.

Society had no place for me.

Love proved unobtainable.
Friendship unavailable.
Beauty unattainable.
Recognition unachievable.
Conformity unendurable.

But in this desert I sought Truth.
Among a myriad books.

Thinking til my brain hurt.
Bearing painful disillusion.

Served Truth as a mistress.
(Though she was cruel.)

 

Now I fear loss of legacy.
Taking secrets to the grave.

Dread a smothering control-grid
where free thought may barely breathe.

And dissent can get deleted
before even being read.

 

Anxious tyranny goes masked
conceals its mean grimace.

Behind sugar coated rhetoric
of “safety”, “care”, “community”.

Whose guidelines filter
disliked views.

And keep things hid
not argued with.

 

So perhaps my words
will all be wasted?

And hence bullies win again.
(I found they often did.)

Feeling need to speak in code
already signals one’s defeat.

 

What remains is fretting.
Muted impotence.

Watching
washed-up
on the sidelines

While a smug parade
struts by.

To hear its well-lit
noisy victory

sound

that triumph

 

of

the lie.

 

 

 

 

---

 

---

 

 

 

 

Belated Birthday Piece

 

The photo below is as close as I ever got to a wedding…

(That’s me, with the top hat.
And a girl even held my hand!
I always loved women’s company.
Hoped one might marry me.

But fate had other plans.)

 

 

 

 

I intended a post marking my 30th consecutive birthday isolated and ill.
(After living alone from 1991.)

Although too unwell for publishing this on time, I am pushing back against oblivion:
by including it, now.

(Please forgive the lateness.)

 

---

 

 

 

Nothingness

 

 

In a futile imitation of self-love
I’d vowed:

To mark each birthday
by a piece.

Though the date meant less
it still held worth for me.

Yet I sank too low
this year.

Hence failed (alas).
At feigning some significance.

Depression crushed my spirit
like a bug.

 

I lost a fight
which lostness won.

Then sensed a darkening destiny
a long-imagined fear.

Of joining those forgotten ones.
Who die unseen.

Who lie alone in quiet homes.
Unmissed for months.

As all around go rushing on
compulsive in their busyness.

 

And while I watch 
such fate approach

to change is growing harder
since

it does not just depend on me
but strangers.

As old age reveals
diminished status

shrink toward a nullity
beyond humane regard.

Where no other life
encountered

makes spare any space
for mine.

 

Thus I sit, again
with silence.

Only mapping out
these margins

In my
nothingness.

 

 

 

 

---

---

 

 

Wait ages for a poem, then three come along at once! 😀

 

(I wonder which one works best?

Did any lines stand out for you?)

Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it?  🌛

 

Comments are always VERY welcome! 🙏

 

 

 

---

 

 

I apologise for blogging infrequently in 2021.

Was going to write about the reasons.
Yet this post seems rather long, already.
(Worry you may get too bored.)
Therefore I’ll leave that topic for another time.

 

I want to finish by expressing my gratitude.
To readers and followers.

As a person absent from other platforms or social media
it has been a moving experience:
exposing my work online, for the first time, here.

Finding people so supportive and kind.

Your likes, follows, and comments, help keep me going.
Maintaining morale during chronic illness.
Countering those temptations to give up. 

 

Would really love to thank you all in person. 🤗

But must make do with sending

 

Best Wishes!

And

Thanks
for reading!

 

 

 

 

---

(  art / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / mental health / photography /poem / poetry / thoughts / truth / writing)

 

Advertisement

Loneliness

A passing beauty
once observed

(Who’d walked upon
the cobbled street
below my window)

Revisited
in dream.

And there
(again)
she strode along

With arms around herself:

A kind of cradling pose
which stood out as
so feminine.

This sight endured
in mind.

Since women always
fascinated me.

How self contained they seemed.
How unapproachable.

Those favoured ones
I most adored
moved ever
beyond reach.

Above apparent
possiblity
for connection.
Or of love.

I recalled
(next)
my childhood
school.

Where bullies
brutes and boasters would
display their baseless confidence.
Acting as if unaware
of life’s
fragility.

But some still
grew quite popular.
While I was left
aside or
shunned.

Both then
and now.

Alone
each day.

All down those
cold decades.

Among
this long
ten thousand nights

at times the
pain could get so bad
that
(lying in the dark
awake)
I also tried to hold myself.

(Console myself.)

Two arms across the chest.

(Just as the passing girl had done.)

Yet

found

it

did not

help.

 

---

 

(As an affectionate person, 30 years alone with illness has felt a bit like
being endlessly stuck in a touch-deprivation experiment.

I tried to convey something of that experience in the poem.)

 

---

 

And now, rather late (but better than never?) :

Here’s a piece to mark fours years on WordPress…

 

---

 

 

4th Blogiversary post

 

 

 

Not writing

 

 

How I envy those who love writing!

It doesn’t work that way for me.

 

Nor did my “blogging break” enable “returning refreshed”.

I find “refreshed” an almost forgotten sensation.
Due to chronic illness.

Each morning feels more like dragging my body free from a pit
of exhaustion and pain.
After taking minor beatings, during the night.
(Had dream-demons caught me again?)

Then I attempt to fake being human, for a few hours.

 

The longer my blogging break, the harder restarting appeared.
Inertia, anxiety, self-doubts, set in.

Watching others pour out their blogposts
I floundered amid sickness and despair.
Tormented by my own time-wasting.

Depression coats awareness
with its layer of toxic mould.

Failure expands, to seem a default state.

 

Perhaps poem-hunger makes it worse?
The waiting for inspiration.
Minus structure, plan, or plot.

Because I associate writing with mental ferment.
Nailbiting.
Insomnia.

Where ideas disrupt rest.
Tapping against windowpanes of consciousness.
As if annoying moths sought entry.

Thoughts scribbled down: in order to escape them.
After which they fade, unseen.
Confined by decaying notepads.
An unedited chaos, I lack energy to synthesise.

If only this mess could be redeemed!

But illness ruins everything.

(How to ever to get published
when I struggle to get out of bed?)

So passed a blogiversary:
Enjoying other people’s work.
While neglecting my own.

Days spent scrolling.
soon  joined weeks.
Then months.

On it goes.
The emptiness.

 

The ticking clock.

Now draws me back.

To write.

 

About

not writing.

 

 

 

---

 

Does anyone else prefer reading to writing?

Have you ever felt motivationally-challenged (like me)?

Comments are always VERY welcome!🙏

 

Best wishes to you all!

 

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

 

Thanks
for reading!

 

 

 

---

( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / loneliness / mental health / poem / poems / poetry / writing )

Better days

 

 

 

I stopped to hear the wind
sound its pursuit
around my ears.

And stood
a while

(mouth tingling vaguely).

Thinking back
on being young

As one who’d
dared imagine
love

might soon
dislodge

life’s lonely treadmill
from

its
confined course.

 

But
then
(even in their emptiness)

perhaps

just these
remained

my
better days?

 

Though
yet such times
were still

suffused

by
trauma’s shadow

through

the memory.

 

By
darkness

 

through

 

the blood.

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

---

 

(The poem above sprang from a few unused old lines.
Left on scrap paper when I was 21.

They reasserted themselves before me:
as if discontented with their 42 year oblivion.
Seeking a return to the light, at last.

I felt driven to rework them, into this.

Strange being a poet sometimes.

I hope you think it works?)

 

---

 

 

---

 

And Now

it’s time for…

 

Blogstars 2020!

 

 

I discovered many excellent new blogs in 2020:
and wanted to share a selection with you…

 

Poetstars!

 

Leila at Leila Samarrai

Holly at House of Heart

Ra’ahe at Fallen Alone

Vallia at Vall.Grey poetry

Kim at The Cheesesellers Wife

Kristiana at My Screaming Twenties

Ai at The Vague Thoughts

Nikita at The Purple Hermit

Betty at Seasonings

Aneurin Gwyn at Into the Unknown

Melody at Melody Chen

Upashna at Upashna

Kaylie at A Whole and the Moments

Liv at she wrote

Viktoria at weird and white

Robin at WriterGrrlRobin

Euphrosyne at It’s Getting A little Dark Out There

 

 

Artstars!

 

Ritva at Art by Ritva

Monica at Monica Aissa Martinez

Hinglaz at Art by Hinglaz

Isadore at Isadore Michas

Vivien at Vivien Art & Design & Tutoria

Elaine at Elaine Fox Art

Anna at Anna’s

Rachel at rachel tremblay

Heni at Heni’s Happy Paintings

Marisa at Abstract Reception

Damian at Visual Faire

 

 

 

Photostars!

JJ Raia at jjraiaphotography

Angela at My Creative Wayz

 

 

Gothstars!

Jennifer at Vamp Jenn’s corner

Kelly at Twisted Libra Cemetery

 

 

 

I hope you will enjoy some of these?

 

 

(Also, a big “Sorry”
to those not listed!

As I currently follow 275 blogs,
putting them all here, would make this post overlong.)

 

Please visit my previous “Blogstars“

(from 2019)

For 26 more fine Bloggers.

(Including Candice Louisa Daquin; Devika Mathur; River Dixon; Gary J Steele; etc.)

 

I’ve only linked writers found since publishing the first version, in this piece:
to avoid duplication.

 

---

---

 

Did you find great new blogs in 2020?

Do you agree with any of my choices?

 

Comments are always very welcome. 🙏

 

Wishing everyone a

Happy New Year!

 

Thank you
for reading. 😊

 

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

 

 

---

 

(PS:

Meant to publish this during December, but got hit by another flu-type virus
(alongside my usual chronic illness) through the festive season.🤒

Totally sapped energy for contacting others.
And when the phone actually rang, on Christmas day, I felt too unwell to answer it.
Reinforcing the isolation.

So passed my 28th Christmas alone.

Anyway, with luck, none of you can top that,
for sheer dreariness?
LOL! 🤞🏻)

 

---

( art / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / love / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / writing )

Desire

 

When day returns

like something never reached

Aflame
on the air.

Then
(O muse)
let me speak
from my dream

of her eyes

I so wanted
to meet
with mine.

(Yet
which always
stayed
behind their clouds.)

 

Just once
(Yes!)

Let me sing

while still
I lie
and seek

Imagined dawns

New-breathed.

Inspiring
to the lungs.

 

Or wish
for years
less lost.

 

As these
thoughts

attempt light.

 

Through
mere networks

of signs.

 

 

 

---

 

 

(Above is a piece based on poetry written aged 23.
I’ve felt unable to create poems, lately, due to illness.
Hope you think it works?)

---

(Below is a prelude to this post…)

---

 

 

Digital nightmare!

 

After logging in, unfamiliar sights transfixed me.
Waves of anxiety coursed through my body.
What was happening?

The screen now resembled a strange, alien puzzle.
A digital nightmare began.

The WordPress Block Editor had taken over! 😱

ARGH!!

 

(I soon nicknamed it “Blockheaditor”.)

Perhaps designed by geek sadists?
(Who’d decided we tech-phobes were not suffering enough already,
just trying to be bloggers.)

Being a humble poet: an image with some words underneath was all I knew.

Struggling against disorientation: a panicky nausea arose.
As if betrayed by a trusted friend.

Amid confusing options, I sought pathways to coherence.
Painful hours passed.

Finally, my nervous hand crept toward the “Publish” button.

Would this reveal success?
Or disaster?

Click!

I squinted into an electronic glow.

Had the words appeared correctly?

There?

 

HERE?

 

 

 

---

 

 

Have any others found the Block Editor an unwanted change?

It may be great for those with more ability than me.
Or who need extra features.

But I prefer freedom of choice to compulsion.

 

Comments are always very welcome!🙏

 

Thank you 👏
for reading.

 

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

 

---

 

(PS:

Sorry for the lack of content, recently.
Depression’s been hitting me hard.
Motivation got crushed.

Intended to post at least once per month, but failed.

On the positive side, I’m still active:
following 277 people;
using the reader,
and discovering new blogs.)

 

Wishing you all well.🙂

 

---

(anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / mental health / poem / poems / poetry  / thoughts / writing )

The message

An ancient code
long wove through
souls.

 

Its falling tremor
a veiled melody.

 

At times
barely heard.

 

As if
breaking

on distant shores.

 

Or sought
in old minds

beset
with
dismal thoughts.

(Like dark soil
chafed
by some goading
plough.

As heckling crows
caw down
from
the pointed wood.)

 

 

Though
still

a message
may come.

Scorning our rules.

 

(While men pretend

to have
understood.)

 

 

 

So
legends
are made

breathe.

 

In their
ageless

certainty.

 

 

 

Then carved.

 

 

Upon

wrinkled

stone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

(The poem above is a revision of one written when aged 23.
I find myself too ill for creating new poetry, at present.)

 

---

 

 

Impostor syndrome?

 

This blog passed 1,000 followers last week.  🎉
That appeared an unattainable total just a few months ago.

I am very grateful for all your support. 🤗

 

Yet depression (which currently grips me) has triggered a sort of impostor syndrome.

My inner-critic’s voice sneers:
“Ha! Get a book published before calling yourself a “poet”!
And putting old stuff online, means you aren’t even a proper blogger, either!”

(With a psyche like mine, who needs enemies?)

 

Yes: I do dream about being published, someday.
But have no idea how.
Or where to approach.

And when my symptoms are bad, I often end up feeling overwhelmed.
The energy required for self-promotion seems completely absent.

 

 

Does anybody else struggle against impostor syndrome?

Perhaps viewing themselves as a chronic amateur, among experienced bloggers?

Or imagining that others are “natural” writers, in ways one can’t match?

 

Comments are always VERY welcome!🙏

 

Thank you
for reading.🙂

 

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

 

---

(anxiety / art / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / mental health / poem /poems / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )

Forgotten happiness

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a small boy
at the zoo

This world seemed
fresh.

And yet

If someone told me
then
how lonely
life would grow.

What could I have done
(or changed)
to stop that fate?

 

(Hence
not finish up
as melancholic.
Black-clad
faded soul.

Like a goth in spirit.

Minus
style.)

 

 

 

Perhaps long illness shows us
who our true friends are?

With mine revealing
I had none.

Except
a loving uncle.

Close
until the end.

 

His photographs were left for me.
Preserving childhood days.

Those early sunlit trips
escaped oblivion
again.

 

 

 
To my surprise
he claimed I’d been
a source of fun and joy.

 

(Depression
arrived later.

Once art waned
I lost my way.)

 

His favourite picture
caught me unaware
a swan approached
behind.

 

 

 

 

Recently
I found an unseen image
of what happened next.

 

He’d made it known
the bird drew near.

So I turned back
delightedly.

 

 

 

 

Thus
these few shots

which now
survive

though blurred
or aged

might still display

their faint remains

 

of such

(forgotten)

 

happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

(This is my third

Birthday blog post.

🎂

After 30 years of spending them alone (and ill)
I often feel sadness, on the day.
It tends to emphasise continued isolation.

My uncle used to ring me.
But, since his death, the phone stays, mostly, silent.)

 

Hope everybody is well?

Do you like any of the photos?

 

Comments are always VERY welcome!

 

Thank you
for reading.

 

---

( art / blog / blogging / depression / goth / life / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )

Elusive

 

 

Phrases arrive.

Discrete.
Homespun.

Through various fathomless
apertures
of sense.

Like empty sprites
word-bubbles
flash.

 

Then these visitors
(vanishing)
shrink to a speck.

Cross reeling
complexities.

 

Weaving down
past deeper veils.

Where older shades
lay mingled
in their graves.

With an
enigmatic
trace.

 

And thus
(I found)
remained.

Only certain
broken

images.

 

 

Half-

purified.

 

 

By
dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Above is a revised poem, from when I was 23.)

I’m still unable to write fresh poetry, since a recent illness.
Post-viral depression eased, yet the creative spark’s gone missing.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

I’ve spent more time than usual on WordPress in the last few months.
Enjoyed discovering loads of new writers, poets, artists, and photographers.

As a result the number of blogs I follow has reached about 240.
This is making it difficult to keep up!
(So far, I try to read every post from blogs I follow.)

Seeing my audience grow is exciting.
(I’m truly grateful to each one of you.)

Though I also feel quite guilty, for not following back all 
of those who are kind enough to follow me.
But the number (700+) seems rather large to make that practical?

 

I’d love to hear how many blogs other readers follow?

Do you think 240 is a lot?
Or am I being a WordPress wimp?🙂

Do you ever feel bad for not following people back?
Do you follow blogs you don’t actually read?

(I worry that over 300 may become hard to focus on?)

 

To be honest, I notice myself hesitate about following long-form, writers, lately.
Especially if they post more than once per day.

I’m much happier to follow those posting weekly, or infrequently.
Plus, art and photography blogs (which are often less text-heavy).

 

Comments are always VERY welcome!🙏

 

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

 

Thank you
for reading.

 

---

( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / drawing / life / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / writing )

Monster!

 

 

“Hello, my dear,” the monster said.

“Who’s this?” she cried.

“Come to me, little one.”

“Hey, that’s creepy!”

“You can be a princess
in the underworld.”

“Ugh! Let go!”

“Love’s more pure beyond the grave.”

(Those hands touch
round her throat.)

 

 

Now
here I was
with a pocketknife.

Large plastic torch.

(And holy water
too.)

Sat
fearful.

Waiting
in the crypt.

 

Outside
thick fog

conceals
faint murmured
groans.

 

Some
thing moves
closer

all
the time.

 

 

 

 

 

Get ready!

 

 

It’s
nearly
midnight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

(Above is a piece from when I had just turned 21.
Partly inspired by old horror movies.)

 

---

 

Hope you are well?

My flu-type illness has improved a lot.
Though the post-viral depression lingers.

At present, I feel unable to write poetry.

 

Is anyone else spending more time online than usual?

I found the greatest benefit of that, was discovering many interesting new bloggers
(artists, poets, photographers, and writers) in recent weeks.

Some have even visited my site.

It’s so nice to connect with other creative people.

(And, perhaps I am slightly immature, but an unexpected like still gets me excited.)

 

Comments are always VERY welcome.

 

Thank you
for reading.   🙂

 

 

(Art on the blog is mine.)

 

---

(anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / drawing / life / mental health / poem / poems / poetry / reading / writing )

Under closed eyes

 

 

 

“The self is not enough.
But that’s all we’ve got.”

Said a voice
across
my dream.

 

Yet I sensed a
small bright
glow

emerge
within.

 

As if some light
had already
opened

the tick
of a tiny
flower.

 

Split from
its negative

through darkness.

 

 

Under

these

still-closed

eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

(Above is a poem from when I was aged 20.
Inspired by things glimpsed during semi-conscious states.)

 

Creating verse seems beyond me, at present.

The flu, with its fevers and headaches, has eased.
But post-viral depression lingers on.

Viewing the current lockdown, from the perspective of someone
isolated by chronic illness (mainly housebound and alone) for over 30 years:
it feels rather strange to see so many people now
struggling to cope with a slightly similar situation.

If symptoms improved, restless urges for social life would also trouble me.

As fate turned-out, the chances for love, friends, or normality, faded long ago.

Of course, current restrictions could, shortly, be lifted.
While my own health problems remain incurable.

 

I thought of writing a post about dealing with solitude.

Though I worry this blog’s reach is too small, and my circumstances too unusual,
for helping others.

 

Comments are always VERY welcome! 🙏

 

Hope everybody is well?

Have you spent more time online?

(I’ve found lots of interesting new blogs in the last few weeks.)

 

 

Thanks for reading! 🙂

 

 

(Art on this site is mine.)

---

( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / life / mental health / poem / poems / poetry / reading / writing )

Kiss your chains

 

 

Commotion through my heart.

I moved into her room.

Taking a straight line
though sideways seemed best.

(Sometimes you have to make do.)

 

She was ready.

 

And, afterwards, said:

“Kiss your chains!
Before you go back home.

Kiss them, honey!

 

OK.

Stand up, now.”

 

 

By then
I really
wanted
a cuddle.

 

 

But sometimes

 

you have

to make do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

(The above piece dates from when I was 20 years old.)

 

I’m too ill for writing poetry, lately.
My brain affected by a virus.
Into the fourth weekend, and it’s still continuing.

Luckily the fever and headache abated.
Though depression increased.

I resisted a break from blogging, which might have been sensible.
These Sunday posts form a chance to connect with readers, that I don’t want to lose.
With a small following, I fear being forgotten altogether, during any absence.

My anxiety about running out of food eased.
Finding empty shelves now partially refilled, in local shops.
(I could not buy preferred choices, but there were, at least, alternatives.)

 

The best thing about the last fortnight was spending more time on WordPress.

I discovered many interesting blogs.
Plus enjoyed interacting with various writers, poets, photographers, and artists.

 

Hope everybody is well?

 

Have you been online for longer than usual?

 

Comments are always VERY welcome!

 

Thank you
for reading.

 

 

 

(Art on the blog is mine.)

 

---

 

( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / depression / life / mental health / poem / poems / poetry / reading / relationships / writing )