I’m a sinking ship,
Set adrift upon a sea.
A sea of blue…
Blue as a faded tattoo
Of a long forgotten love.
Blue as a lost soul,
Or a fresh broken heart.
Blue as a distant mountain
Bereft of detail,
It’s only purpose to block the view
Of the path’s destination.
Blue as the ice,
That sits within my heart
Since the wind took you –
An ill wind that blew me no good.
It is said; if you wear an ugly face
When the wind changes –
Your face will stay that way.
If the wind changes
While my heart is broken –
Will it stay that way too?
From the west it came
Carrying dust and sandflies.
My skin dried and grit filled my eyes.
I felt I’d never be the same.
This ill wind had blown no good.
To my despair was added discomfort.
Hopes for peace had come up short –
I let myself fall.
Does the sun rise for me,
Or am I rushing to greet it?
Does the moon forget to touch me
As she slips below the horizon,
Or have I simply failed to watch anymore?
Does a friend slight me,
Or do I fail to understand his pain?
Does a relationship turn sour,
Or was there nothing there to begin with?
Does the old soldier sip quietly on a rum
Because he needs the drink,
Or does he salute dead mates?
Is life a construction site,
or a constant reconstruction site?
I’m not sure…
I cut off my hair –
No power did I divest.
No fear walking the tiger’s lair.
Not a head was turned,
As I wander through the rest.
No power the fiend – renounced.
My heart had been tempered –
Still it hammers in my chest,
The loss freshly remembered.
One hand reached out
Reviving only the best.
My heart began to shout –
All doubt washed aside,
My mind held no great contest –
True friends will always abide.
Today the sky is blue,
Somewhere behind the dark clouds.
It’s cleanliness hidden
From my addled mood.
Yet still I hide the scar,
Through the smokescreen provided
By the tiny blue pill.
My friend – my bête noir.
Sip the tea and look to sea.
Behind this wave another forms –
Regardless of the unrelenting shore.
Like me, they just want to be.
Somewhere out there it begins –
And the environment sustains its growth,
Always supporting, sometimes calming.
It rises, tall as a mountain poppy,
Tossing its head in the offshore breeze –
Until dashing itself to pieces
Upon the callous, unforgiving shore…
Hold my hand, I’m cold.
alone in this dark
while my wrists, they gently weep.
waiting for the light
Warning – I have use a piece of language in this poem that may offend some. I have not done it gratuitously and for those of you who have ever been in ‘the dark place’ you will understand that no other work can carry the necessary emotion.
So please if the use of such a word will offend you, I ask you to read no further.
Gimme some space –
Some elbow room.
Time to fuck this up
In my own special way.
I don’t need your advice –
Your thinly veiled suggestions.
Criticism is my razor
When I’m feeling this way.