Wonderings in wandering

  Life is labour. All is entropy. From the moment we're born, we decay. We must feed to renew, we must breathe to energise. We strive to prolong a life we never asked for, living inside a machine needing contant maintenance against built-in redundance. What an existence!

Woken at 07:45 hours, this day as every for the past God-knows-how-many mornings. He stopped counting months ago. Familiar shouts and clattering, steel on steel. He’s never been in such constant company. If he can’t see them, he can hear them. If he cant hear them, he can smell them. Two hundred and fifty God-forsaken souls bouncing off the concrete walls. And yet, never has he been so lonely. In the middle of this swirl of doing, coming and going, he plays the game of acquaintance, unpleasant pleasantries exchanged on the landings when custom, advantage and survival says he must. But he dreams of solitary, a box just for him. A place of quiet, or quiet as it gets. Lonely for solitude and spiritual guidance, gently closing the door while all others slam. Lonely for recognition, his currency no use where his is now, he trades in sensitivity, not noise and bravado. Lonely for connection, the true self hidden, protected by ever thickening walls of stoicis...

  Who are ‘They’? You know, the ones who said it would rain today. Are they the same ‘They’ that claim a glass of red wine a day is good for you? Or are they the ‘They’ that decided quinoa, blueberries and chia seeds needed a superlative? ‘They’ said the pandemic would change everything, ‘They’ promised a new normal. But then again, ‘They’ promised to be carbon neutral by 2030. ‘They’ say mental illness is on the rise yet ‘They’ are spending unprecedented resources on it.   [Oh, you mean the ‘They’ who raise wages? Or the ‘They’ who let inflation spiral?] Which ‘They’ is it who are calling for Peace? The ‘They’ that call for ceasefires? Surely not the same ‘They’ that are profiting from arms sales to rich warlords and using hateful speech on ‘Their’ platforms? These are the ‘They’ who hide behind a pronoun when delivering news of death, poverty, corruption and failure. The same ‘They’ who suddenly personify when plaudits, praise and ...

W.H.O.   Do you need someone? On this World Mental Health Day Does someone need you?  

  Irlen Syndrome I thought I’d try reading again But when my eyes scan across that off-white page The words animate…. Slippery                    little                                                      bastards. As I try focus on one, The next j s l s in front of it                 o t e What I’m about to read distracting Me from what I am reading….. Its not the spelling, I was always top at that! Its pinning down the words Comprehensible in sentence to a Into a comprehensible sentence, While try...

  Mrs Smith A pale face, dark eyes, an uneasy smile, Surrounded by a mass of tangly black curls, She sat in that circle Unengaged, aloof, disruptive, There for everyone else’s sake But her own. Trapped in a world by demons who Would let her see another way But kept her from it because It wouldn’t serve their obsessive needs. Within screaming distance but held behind thick glass, Visible but achingly unreachable. And now she appears, life Shining from her eyes. A purpose in her movement An energy no longer nervous or restrained. An arrogant addiction now replaced By an enthusiastic vulnerability. The tangle of curls now worn up To frame a new maturity. She sits in the circle for her own sake now Proving to everyone else that she is worthy, Meeting life bravely while hearts around her Now swell with inspiration.

  This Developed Nation In this Developed Nation, a 19 year old woman sleeps in a bag in a door way. In this Developed Nation, a working family of four relies on the local food bank. In this Developed Nation, grandmothers live on a pittance and die lonely. In this Developed Nation, my friends use drugs to fill a spiritual chasm. In this Developed Nation, stateless refugees are kept in cages while processed. In this Developed Nation, slave labour is abolished, but persists. In this Developed Nation, the media patronizes and panders to the lowest common denominator. In this Developed Nation, the unscrupulous employers bulldoze workers rights. In this Developed Nation, the population is kept divided and ineffective. In this Developed Nation, ‘I’m not a racist...but...’ In this Developed Nation, black people are stop/searched nine times more than whites. In this Developed Nation, under four percent of rape reports end in conviction. In this Developed Nation, seventeen percent o...

Detachment     Looking from the other side of the mirror, Seeing through dirty glasses, There is something not real about this moment Like looking at a reflection of a reflection of a reflection…. Something just undefinable, A gap between my here, And their here. My now, And their now. So fine as to be invisible but so wide That one is unaware of the other. I’m existing in their world But not of their world. Watching life as a live broadcast With a nano-second delay. Seeing the muzzle flash Then hearing the shot. The familiar is unfamiliar, The same, though different. Like the thinnest sheet of clear ice My perception could shatter….. But then do I return to what was before? Or am I left with an existence of emptiness?

  Easy Fix It was the sort of feeling I always drank on: Frustration, Banging my head against a wall Screwing myself into a ball Wanting to shout out, to get away, To calm my mind, a need to relax. The easy fix that always works. Flushing myself through with poison Washing what’s inside away To find myself in exquisite numbness. Short term gain and long term pain.

  Insidious Negativity is not always overtly depressive, Positivity is not always overtly happy. Negativity eats away, piece by piece. It hides in the banal. Its disguised by layers of colour, Noise, applause. Negativity is drip fed, unnoticed. The bland The ordinary The acceptable Even the comfortable. Negativity keeps you in your place, Convinces you How good you’ve got it, Fosters no hope, Breeds joy in superficiality. Negativity is not a natural state of mind. No one wants it, yet Its continually perpetuated by those Who are blind to it. Negativity tells you that Positivity is frivolous and childish, Happy-clappy psycho-babble, Is an immense effort, an uphill struggle, A dream, stupid, deluded, unobtainable… Well, it would, wouldn’t it? Its Negative. Negativity sets you unattainable goals, Holds up a false mirror, Tells you that you need to be What you can’t be… But still you ache, drive, strive To get there, Conce...

  Solid Ground Still searching for that solid centre ground. Knowing that the only reliable thing Is Unreliability Just ain’t helping right now. Eroded self trust is my foundation, my bedrock, my stability. And time and time and time again The ever powerful waves of self doubt Undermine and eat away At what is supposed to be my touchstone. No matter how quickly and steadfastly the defences are built, Those cracks of insecurity fill with The constant drip, drip, drip of Muddied, toxic delusion until once again The ironic inevitability of unreliability crumbles, Washing away the solid, centre ground.

  The First Week A solitary pigeon perches on a telegraph pole And sings her call. Other than that, the world is quiet. The constant rush of rubber on tarmac Has finally ceased. Gone, the mechanical birds, bees and bugs Filling the air with their droning busyness. The warm wind has dropped, Hushing the rustling. And even the neighbourhood dogs respect the silence, Sleeping soundly. The only noise is that of sunshine And Nature, exhaling her contentment. The pigeon starts! and takes to the air.