Posturing

 

Konica128512

 

 

  Lostness    (103)

 

 

It hurt: admitting deep belief
got built upon
some shifting sands
that proved unstable.

But many things were learnt before
skilled reasoning was primed.

 

Illusions may be preferable
compared with harsher truths.

I wondered:
had kind ancestors
less chance of spreading traits
in ancient days when strangers
carried spears or axes?

 

Even now, on darkened streets
if lacking ways to guess
at inner natures
stereotypes alert survival
biased judgements happen fast.

Those who act beyond the norm
surprise more careful minds.

Hostility might swiftly flare
from standing in supposed reproach
to other’s sensed esteem.

 

 

Resentment
being simply stirred
finds politicians seeking votes
by posturing as punishers
for group morality.

Lauding money-saving cuts
they channel latent spite against
the unfit and the sick.

 

Such tactics sparking parody, I wrote:

“Behold!
A righteous call is heard to
“rise up from thy bed
and work.”
Declaring thousands newly well
in single pen-signed
miracles.

Once doubters then spoke cautiously
predicting public backlash
voices countered any qualms
upbraiding:
“Oh, you faint hearts
trust the masses side with us!
These broken ones are quietly despised.
Expect responses satisfied, at
watching shirkers stressed.”

 

So all softness became scorned
replaced by mirth
imagining
the lowly get chastised.”

 

 

Wealth had gentler treatment, though

on seeing how
our state
controls
its rich with
dangled “carrots”

 

while the poor
receive the
stick.

 

 

 

(2011)

 


 

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

Comments are exceedingly welcome!

I have been feeling very low recently, and it’s so nice when someone breaks the silence…

Thank you for reading.)

 


 

( art / beauty / culture / drawing / illness / life / lostness / mental health / philosophy / poem / poetry / politics / thoughts )

 

 

 

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Piercing through

 

Konica12456

 

 

Lostness    (102)

 

 

X million sperm had swum for life

and to the quickened one
who won these
years
in light

existence
started with a race
gestated vague survivor guilt.

 

Then thoughts it might be best
to go back
dreaming
snug
inside a scarlet cave.

 

But fear already
sank so deep
this stomach didn’t rest
from turning.

Hearing sudden noises round me
piercing through unshielded walls
pressed all concentration hard
which rendered calmness
something lost

though found by others
(duly envied
in their
peace).

 

 

My body’s now
a futile site
where nature
slowly erodes hope
of chance for sharing
beauty’s grace.

While sensing women formed
the gateway that
will always remain
closed.

And being shamed
I shall not
enter
feeling manly
(let alone become
a father)
since
long illness leaves
me sticking fast
in stasis.

Lately grasping
after somber
themes.

Exploring

just how
truly stuck

I am.

 

 

 

(2011)


 

(Art on the site is mine. I do hope you like it?

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Interaction is one of the best parts of blogging.

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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.

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

 

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 )

 

 

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 )

 

 

 

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 )

 

Lost time

 

Konica12858

 

Lostness   (87)

 

 

 

Opening the book reveals a lone dark hair

left curled between its surfaces.

 

This single strand lay hidden
sixteen years
inside Proust’s “Remembrance of things past”
still coloured from before my going grey.

Encountered, not expected
like a trigger for new recollection.

Ironically placed
amid the very scene where changes
wreaked upon appearance
by old age
are best described.

 

An ending near ascension and epiphany
after lengthy disillusion
carrying conceptual weight beyond
preceding textual mass

Suggesting art might fill a faith-shaped void

yet how many find that happen?

 

 

(I also broke my only clock
whilst reading:
ill and housebound
having no computer, mobile phone or watch
thus felt slightly vague
in time.)

 

 

Finishing the work
we learn

despite all seeming fruitless
during long despondence

later, Marcel gained his true
vocation as a writer

reclaiming what was lost
across an odyssey
of moments.

 

 

Now my own life’s shrunken
among little
but impressions

I retain hopes
to one day sink back
through that sensuous web’s
great edifice of memory

following those faded scents
down paths toward
some beauty
far less disappointing
than the humdrum flux
existence brings.

 

So
then

once more
before it grows
too late

just let me
turn
the page.

 

 

 

 

(2006)

 

 


 

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(art / beauty / books / culture / drawing / fiction / life / lostness / mental health / poetry / Proust / reading / writing )

 

Gratifying paranoia

 

 

Konica1188

 

 

 

Lostness   (84)

 

 

 Upset at an injustice

we can feel let down by life

and overwhelmed
decide
primal unfairness thus
extends
across from illness
on to death.

 

Sometimes great dejection
unrelieved
grown toxic
drives a pen
exhaling word-fumes
as its vent.

 

But still ideas recur
of better ways
and systems

Views that provoke taking sides.

So wanting all might share
in these fond dreams
may soon produce the wish
for countering dissent.

Such tendencies have often led
toward coercion:

Force made bold
since lacking guilt
perhaps outlaws offence

itself offensive to
old freedoms
won through cost

existing safer knowing
who despised us
rather than
instead
kept hid by silence
out of fear.

 

While rights attained
could work as weapons
pitting groups against
their rivals.

Or awareness
believed raised
seem gratified
embracing paranoia
with its certainty.

 

Observing euphemisms form
diverse in latent tension
sees a shift away from conflict
about honour

basing renewed status
on complaint.

 

When well-fed grievance
thrives

competitive
in victim styles

some innocents are shocked
at finding hatred
among places where
they once had hoped
or played

expectant

eager

to be liked.

 

 

 

(2004)

 

 


 

 

 

(Any art on the blog is mine.
Comments are very welcome!
Thank you for reading.)

 

 

 


 

 

( art / culture / depression / drawing / illness / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / politics / thoughts / writing.)