Scree

 

 

Part 1

 

 

Anal traits.

 

Alert all agents!

Field report from narcosis section (filed under code: “Degenerate”)
recently found on data channel, at a vacant location.

Text appears subversive in spirit, beginning:

“Great deal, man! Fifty pounds of uncut.
We need drugs for a life lacking poetry.”

 

It continues:

“An avalanche of impressions doesn’t constitute a self.
While metaphysics has grown tiresome.
Let us curse anal traits, distorting minds,
setting traps for normal eyes.
Keep vision running, yet, along much other lines…

Endless bumholes tunnel space.”

 

(Suggest “wormholes” in previous sentence?)

 

“Time could see the whole operation go asswards.
Just take a shot.
Feel heat cross flesh.
Imagine obscene structures collapsing
amid a gush of verbs.”

 

---

 

 

Official response

Thus far we have difficulty tracing or explaining this message.
No agents are manifesting observable pathologies.

Please maintain healthy and appropriate conduct.

Glory to the eternal cause!

Your obedient servant,

Agent O.

 

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Feedback   ( 4 items, received)

 

1)  Dear friends,

Our department intends healing all deviance, once given total access to psychic residues.

Pay full attention!

 

2) I’ve paid attention!

 

3) May only approved words, throughout
the breathless void, be heard!

 

4)  Amen!

 

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This is the first of my prose, dated 1972.

Reflecting tensions between order and freedom.
Using experimental writing, surrealism, wordplay, humour, poetry.

I was 16 years old then, with no prospects.
Poor, jobless, lonely, friendless, alienated.

 

(My situation is similar today: with added disadvantages from age and chronic illness.)

 

 

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

Comments are very welcome!

Thank you for reading.)

 

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( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / drawing / fiction / humor / humour / lostness / mental health / poetry / thoughts / writing )

 

Dreaming words

 

 

After wishing verse would

emerge
again

thrown whole
by a pen-nibs edge
with ease.

Alight in mind
like shapes
which were somehow
seen if
I closed my eyes
before they had
been drawn.

When this hand felt
guided on
during artwork
once.

Yet I soon mislaid
any gift
then veered so far
beyond its path

found
blocked from
all return.

 

(But
never did forget
the loss.)

 

 

Only signs
(no colours)
lead me now.

Across more barren
years I search for
them
impatiently.

Though trying  just
at trusting
maybe through
the haze might
come a few that
stay here
long enough

while
my ink still
flows.

 

Until
such point
one can merely
wait

and hope
not count upon

those
dreaming
words

(unbidden)

to
arrive.

 

 

 

 

(2017)

 

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In “The strange magic of blogging” I wrote about how my daily notes ( “Lostness” ) kept morphing: poetising themselves, during the editing process.

But above is the first verse to arise spontaneously for 13 years.
It may not be my best, yet at least I can now “come out”
as no longer (quite) an “ex poet”?

Thus, unexpectedly, WordPress brought me back to poetry, after all.

 

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

Comments are very welcome!

Thank you for reading.)

 

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

 

 

Fun with Comments!

 

 

 

                Lostness   ( 107 )

 

 

Have you ever found comments more enjoyable than a text?

Or been drawn by the threads below news website articles?

 

Lacking any previous online voice, I opened a reader account in 2012.
Reacting around current events, and seeing my responses appear in public for the first time, seemed quite exciting.

Though many people’s debating skills hardly rose above playground levels
(fast communication allowed expression ahead of sober consideration)
there was fun to be had!

Especially under pieces which were fairly lightweight.

 

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Here are a few examples of mine, from those days, with their related topics in brackets.

 

( Please note: these tongue-in-cheek remarks should not be taken seriously!)

 

1) ( Weekend “zombie walks”)

“I wouldn’t be seen dead looking like that!”

 

2) ( Complaints over paganism being taught at school)

“Perhaps certain sacrifices may be required, in the cause of inclusion?”

 

3) ( On the spread of veganism)  “Resistance is fruitile!”

 

4) ( Embarrassment when gay porn got accidentally shown behind a newscaster)

“Nice to watch him bend over backwards to apologise!”

 

5) ( The theory dinosaur flatulence contributed to climate change)

“This sounds like a lot of hot air!”

 

6) ( Discussing female sexuality)

“I thought the quickest way to arouse a woman was telling her there’s a shoe sale on?”

 

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But comment threads soon sank into digital obscurity.

So, fearing frivolous new interests leading me astray
while all my past creative work lay neglected and unseen,
I gave up such commenting.

A severe health crisis during 2014-2015 increased my sense of urgency to finally publish something.

Yet it took until 2017 before I felt able to commence blogging.

(And, 2 years later, I’m still struggling.)

 

 

Now, however, I would advise anyone unsure about getting started:

“Don’t be hesitant, like me,
or you might also regret
delaying your experience of WordPress!”

 

 

 

 

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

Comments are very welcome!

Thank you for reading. )

 

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( art / blog / blogging / fun / humor / humour / life / lostness / mental health / news / reading / thoughts / writing )

 

This captive mind

Lostness    ( 106 )

 

 

Back at the doctor’s waiting room, again.

Below its clock’s slow tick
this captive mind starts
wandering.

 

As
an essay title
pops into my head:
“The control delusion”

(on how little power
we really have).

 

And being straightaway
distracted
by one open magazine
discussing female
tribal menstrual synchrony.

“Did their men then go off hunting?”
quips an inner comic voice.
( He undermines all tact
hence best I let the topic drop.)

Another page exclaimed:
“religious symbols banned!”

(I’d rather be prewarned
about who’d want me sent
to hell.)

 

 

Next my mental jaunt
asked
whether excess information
might cause some
feeling faintly jaded
when around the fully known?

 

Or if beliefs which shed humility
should thus appear less credible.
Though dogma seeks submission
from our soul.

(And doctrines often act ungenerous
post-victory: suppressing
even grief among
opponents overthrown.)

Perhaps a rigid faith demands
acceptance too extreme?

 

 

Then these thoughts switched onto
“Dragon slaying”
as a metaphor of
anxious fights against
the ancient “reptile” brain that
generated automatic stress…

 

 

But suddenly
she calls my name
(long past appointment time).

 

Soon I step inside
the door and
pause there

standing quite
subdued to
face

her smile’s
lit eyes:

 

a new GP
so
beautiful

I struggle with
remembering

what

it was

I came
here for.

 

 

 

( 2012 )

---

 

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

Comments are very welcome!

Thank you all for reading.)

 

---

 

( anxiety / art / beauty / blog / blogging / culture / depression / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / thoughts )

 

 

Spun from light

 

 

 

 Lostness    ( 105 )

 

 

Who decided we need music in bookshops?

Why save no peaceful corners for
a quiet soul to seek?

 

Introverts get reduced choice
as others move to bar more space
from unfilled silent time.

Creating asymmetric stress
on those made tense by noise.

 

Aping malls, cafes, and
lavatories: will
libraries soon
proclaim some added sounds?

 

At hospitals
I’ve fretted
pain’s lost hours
trapped facing
fixed TV’s.

(Many adverts later
euthanasia gained appeal.)

 

Illness drove me there again
a body breaking down.

Sat wishing I’d been spun from light
not draped by weary flesh.

 

 

Awareness of deficiencies
may leave unsolved
their cure.

Though deep within
are yearnings for
a place
beyond this state.

 

Yet being gloomy
through these moments
what will brighten up the rest?

(Or if I can’t change now
then when?)

 

 

But misfortunes
starve
an appetite
that hungers after hope.

 

And a heart craves
thought
which
comforts.

 

While
sour truths

just feed
despair.

 

 

 

(2012)

 

---

 

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

Comments are always very welcome!

It’s so nice when people break the silence and isolation of blogging with chronic illness.

Thank you all for reading.)

 

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( anxiety / art / blogging / depression / lostness / mental health / music / painting / poem / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )

The strange magic of blogging

 

 

Second blogiversary!

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

Could blogging create such side-effects?

Had the Muse rejected a premature goodbye?

 

During May 2017 I published a “last poem” (dated 2004):
having been unable to compose any for 13 years.

Next I began posting old daily notes ( “Lostness”) in weekly instalments.

 

Unexpectedly, these disconnected fragments started morphing:
poeticising themselves.
Which felt rather strange, at first.

I assumed this would be temporary. But it kept occurring.

Hence the blog has become mainly poetry.
(I’ve even written some new stuff.)

 

As “Lostness” now reaches 2012, I worry that the approaching transition to uploading prose might reduce an already small audience.

 

There are also regrets, over not connecting more with others on WordPress.

Yet, being affected by quite severe levels of illness, just grinding out a post takes several days, leaving me very drained.
Thus, at present, staying focussed on working through an unedited backlog ( 7 years’ notes; 46 years’ prose; plus one unfinished novel) retains priority.

 

The greatest single success on this site so far is owed to a spontaneous act of kindness from the lovely Sara (of “Sara in LaLaLand”) who shared  “Help! It’s my Birthday…” (June 2018) with her many followers.

Unfortunately views have declined since then.  And no-one has been inspired to reblog another piece.

 

 

Though continual health problems stir thoughts of giving up blogging,
people’s likes and comments encourage my pushing on, despite the pain, each week.

 

 

Finally,

here’s a photo of me from happier times:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you all for reading!

 

 

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

Comments are always welcome!

I’m extremely isolated, so hearing from others makes a real difference to my day.)

 

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( anxiety / art / blog / depression / drawing / illness / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / thoughts / writing )

 

 

 

Overstressed

 

 

   Lostness    ( 104 )

 

 

Progress came from failure

Given drive to
move ahead without
good looks or lucky breaks.

And when success occurs we
might be chosen as
a mate (which boosted
any hope of spreading genes).

But some, like me, were never
fully in the game.
Once losing health so young
most chances quickly passed.

What made things worse:
an artist’s eye
craved beauties who did not
feel drawn its way.

Picturing those excluding touch
desire exceeded reach.
Such isolated vision found
no point for compromise.

 

I mused about biology.
Then prejudice
fate, karma.

Maybe one could help
dilute the blame?

Perhaps frustration overstressed
relationships?

Can a single human meet our needs?

 

( Would even gods do that?

They seem content to give mankind
the silent treatment, now.

Where evil gains free rein
non-intervention shades toward
abandonment.

Yet still a few who fume
impatiently at
traffic lights slow change
speak unperturbed in waiting out
millennia for
deities.
Minus likely dates of their
return.)

 

 

These days
left here
being ill

I craft reflections
from despond.

Or strive to dredge up
decent lines.

 

While laid

alone

with only
writing.

 

Since
I can’t
quite get

a life.

 

 

 

 

(2011)

 

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

Comments are very welcome!

I have been on the point of giving up for many months, due to illness, but your likes and comments make me push on through the pain, each time.

Next weeks post will mark my second blogiversary…

Thank you for reading! )

 

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( anxiety / art / beauty / depression / drawing / ideas / life / lostness / mental health / poem / poetry / relationships / thoughts )

 

 

 

Posturing

 

 

 

  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)

 

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(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 )

 

 

 

Piercing through

 

 

 

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)

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

Comments are extremely welcome!

Interaction is one of the best parts of blogging.

It’s such a nice break to isolation: hearing if anyone has got something from a post.

Thank you for reading.)

 

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( anxiety / art / beauty / depression / drawing / life / lostness / love / mental health / painting / poem / poetry / thoughts )

Behind the mask

 

 

 

           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 much criticised 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)

 

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( 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.)

 

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