tired,
a word I no longer
Wish to hear, whispered
sinuously,
from within my ear,
two syllables
rhythmically
rapping my drum
drained, I’m almost too tired
to come, to this
final restful state,
still dressed, as
I am, coat and shoes
still on, leg draped with
aching tender comfort
across the old leathered puff
breathing shallow from
between sleep-dried lips
moistened momentarily
shallow breath quickening the pulse
that sends waves of bestilled calm
down tired legs, blood beating
in the back of my skull,
momentarily lifting my head forward
from its final days rest, tiny pulse
felt through too tense neck muscles
as I sit skewed, bent forward at
an awkward angle, but this is just so
the most still I have been
all day, run from bed
and to bed I return,
soon,
tired,
as the moment I woke.
All posts by mE
suspiciously cute, ode to a total stranger
I did notice something suspicious,
As I traipsed up the stairs at Ealing Broadway,
The announcers words still ringing loose in my ears,
“If you notice anything suspicious,”
And I did, she was 5 foot 5 with dark brown hair,
Liquid blue eyes, blue jeans, trainers, t-shirt (I’ve
Already forgotten the colour), but
She did make eye contact, more than
Once, on the train from White City, and so I smiled
Because the announcer’s metallically repeatable voice,
Hemming us in to the dull painless fear
Of being blown up by disgruntled lonely militant men
And women while we travel to and from work,
Watching the ebb and flow of our lives,
In the ever-increasingly empty threats of the angrily despondent
Self-righteous few, though forever disputed,
That same metallic voice repeats its message of canned fear,
Like some sad Circus barker gone robot,
Tin man rusted in lost days and mindless repetition,
Meaning gone, until that thought echoes
Across the vast empty life-drained space between my ears,
Drawing one mischevious cartoon-like cheek-curving wicked grin
Across my face, “If you notice anything suspicious,” stated the not
So lively not-live voice, “ly cute”, finishes my overworked brain
As she disappears off through the gates to The Broadway,
And I break off up the steps to platform 3, smiling to myself and
Feeling ever so slightly flattered,
She was cute, I’m still smiling
Now.
deja vu 16/09/09
It’s hit me again, that flavour of “I’ve been here before, in a memory made long before I arrived here”. This is another of the ‘ugly’ premonitions. The taste is sour. Not of fear, as in when I dreamtremembered it, as fear is of the unknown. Once again the truth is a lot more simple and therefore complex than imagined reality. This is one for the records – one door opens, another opens. See what I did there? I do not believe doors ever close unless we slam them, metaphorically speaking. Even then we can open them back up. Nothing is forever, especially the past, which is already water under the bridge. The onrushing flood of the future just a ripple on the river of this lifetime’s horizon, as false and shimmering as any horizon, disappearing as quickly as it is chased, as any good horizon is wont to do. Back to reality with a bump. Or a smack. Slap down out of the clouds of meandering thought into this, what is so complacently labelled the ‘present’, a fun pun that rarely sees the light of day. What kicked this all off? A taste, a flavour of disjointed belief and misappropriated understanding. I am here, when a moment ago I was a million miles away, remembering a dream I had once upon a time about the present, here and now. Now I am back, on platform 3, waiting for my train home. The ghost of a memory long gone but not forgotten. An ominous dream that turned out to be a positive future viewed from the wrong angle. Maybe I did see everything clearly, back then. Maybe the dream included a full history of all then future events rolled up into that one jarring sensation of tastinglivingbeingin what has not happened yet. Maybe that is why it was so terrible then, yet so brightly tinged now. Is all perspective down to a mixture of experience and understanding? Is this what we call ‘growing up’, learning how better to roll with the punches life throws at us, to take it on the chin with a smile and not say, “that wasn’t so bad” but rather “I can see the benefit of this”. Hindsight is not always bitter, sometimes it can be sweet. So, life begins a new phase. A new leaf is turned and no one knows the true future. There will be trials and tribulations for sure, but that only is the spice that makes life a ‘living’ experience. Sometimes breath’s bedfellow’s bitter tang can bring tears to our eyes, make our face go red, clear all reasonable thought from our conscious mind and leave us grasping for that ultimately unreachable horizon glass of water to ease our pain. But we do not really need that glass. The grasping is a further source of pain, not a final relief. The glass of water is inside all of us, if we can only find it, to drink from and share with others. Some call this God, some call this love, some call this compassion. Those burdened with cynical embitterment would call this ‘false hope’. But the definition of hope can not be false. Hope is. The glass of soul-quenching water exists and we can share it with everyone without ever running out. There is enough to go around. And the best part of this plan is that all those once quenched will never look back. Cynical embitterment will be altered to clearer understanding, which in turn breeds more compassion and further conversion from the negative to the positive perspective, for that is what life is all about, perspective. I am no different a human being now from when I woke up afraid of the future, so long ago, than I am right now, in that very future. Yet the fear and distress is not so, it is love, compassion, understanding, a renewed focus on life’s gifts and challenges. This is not because that taste of the future which we label ‘deja vu’ was wrong in any way, shape or form with regards to the reality as it stands right now. Instead, the difference is in my understanding of what all this means, how I fit into that picture, which in turn let’s me see the pain as a blessing, the upcoming battle a chance to prove my beliefs on the battlefield of the emotional and psychological plane against the negative fears that make us all give up on a good thing at one point or other in our lives because “it’s just not worth the trouble”. This is ‘worth the trouble’, as is anything involving living. Let’s see where this road goes. The worst that can happen is the realisation that my summation was wrong, and with that realisation the gift of renewed clarity of vision, a new perspective. A fresh start. No need for bitterness, this is life. This is love.
Still here, now where?
In the quieting soul stillness
That pervades each vibrating cell
Until any noise is more than the momentary cessation of quiet,
But rather the pointed reminder of inner calm, that
Permeates my being, flowing outwards in
Undulating waves of peace, from the very
Centre, my life force telling the rest to wait
Be patient, this is the eye of the
Storm, no more a safe haven
Than the cellar would be in an earthquake,
I am shaken down to my very core
And it is this vibration I feel,
Which in synchronicity cancels wave after wave
Of external and internal noise,
Until all that is left is the tinnitus bells
Signaling the death of full hearing,
And my own whispering voice
Reading these words.
Fine, all is well.
Still, all is calm.
Me, I am here
Now.
Where
Is this all heading?
When all games are done
Soulfilling relief as the endgame draws near,
One slow plodding step at a time,
Dawn reversing back over distant now jet black horizons,
Still I can hear the edge of reason call
Me back to where I was, once upon a time,
Without any real excuse, I crash
And ultimately feel the better
For it, just another cycle
Of up and down life,
Just one more breath in, held
Too long, then let out, just one more
Self-promise broken, no biggey,
I say, because it really doesn’t weigh
All that much, on the scales of yesterday
Tomorrow will come, come what may, and this rhyme
Will end, all I have to say.