The Meaning

The meaning,
The being, place and life.
All for something and all of me.

The place of meaning, life and living.
Placed in a world of being, of staying.

My meaning and place. My comfort and solace.

My place being and moment.

The place I feel at home.
The place to escape my torture.

My place, accepting, my being and place.

My world and my being,
To my shaping.
To my creation.

Shaped into comfort and satisfaction.

My meaning,
My world made whole,
My creation of the meaning,
Not there to begin with.

Numbing The Pain

Numbing the pain,

Feeling empty,

Dark and cold, all around, to the touch.

Mindless monster, dead being.

Trudging on, unfeeling, numb.

A wreck of the past.

A wound on the world.

A chasm of despair.

The state of being, pain at losing life’s treasures held close.

Ripped from the arms,

Followed by the dark storm, the empty silence and coldness.

Piercing and digging like razors, sharp tendrils into by abdomen. Into my heart and core.

But…

But.

I feel nothing, numbness to pain that comes from its constancy.

Numbing my pain.

Bringing it in. Bringing it close.

Fully reckoning it.

Feeling it.

Until that is all I am.

A numbed pain. Constant. A broken thing. A wound of existence. A storm of calm rage. Outside Alice, while dead inside.

Content In Solitude

Content in my solitude,

Alone in the world,

Among the darkness of night.

The long paths taken,

The presence found,

The places been.

Content, alone and moving on.

Marking my presence in the dark of night.

Shifting through being,

An empty wound, moving on and around.

Taking the world in.

Leaving my mark,

A dark spectre on life.

Alone and content in this world.

Moving on and through.

Forging my path with darkness.

In the dark flames of my mind.

The confines of the mind, a raging fire.

The flickering images of the past.

The depths of life,

Echoes of all around.

Within and among, life.

Absorbing and making it mine.

Living and making.

Forging my path through darkness,

Forging my path with those dark flames.

Content in my path.

Living a wound.

Lone Figure

Lone figure in the landscape.

Sitting on the dark steps.

Pondering the world gone past.

The icy air flowing past,

Dark trees on the horizon,

Night skies, all to be seen.

Alone in existence.

Sitting among the world.

Untouched in the dark.

A wound in life.

The darkness, the only friend, solo comfort.

The lonely figure with only the dark to call upon.

Strength to be found in the dark.

Strength in solitude,

Content in my solitude.

The lone figure.

In solitude. The figures moves on. Into further darkness.

To greet the darkness of the horizon.

Arms Outstretched

Arms outstretched,

The time gone past,

Arms outstretched in comfort, in care.

In love, life and feeling.

In ecstatic feeling of content,

The ups and downs to be weathered.

The life with its arms outstretched.

To find the diamond in the rough.

The times there,

My path outstretched.

Open and to be mapped,

My course in the making.

My openness and care,

My kindness,

The care shown, care felt.

The life’s course,

To stand by what is right,

No matter who says you are wrong.

To live a life of care, kindness and love.

Touching people’s lives as I hope to feel.

To offer kindness and solace,

A warm embrace and kindness with care.

Confidence in who I am.

In who I can become.

No matter who stands in my way.

No matter the challenge to my kindness and care.

I am who I am and proud.

My arms outstretched,

The future to greet, embrace and hold.

To stand and be proud.

To take my future, life and goals.

To make them my own.

To make them whole.

To embrace the feeling.

To leave the obstacles behind,

Confined to my past,

The darkness pushed aside,

To live out what I can be, do and feel.

My arms outstretched to embrace the future I make before me.

My arms outstretched. To make my own path.

To make and embrace the future before me.

Lessons from the Past

Lessons from the past,

The intricate path taken,

My intricate path walked,

The twists and turns,

The path walked, the path lived.

The path I take for my own.

The way I move,

The way I am.

The mistakes once made,

The faults of my past and my mind.

The path I forge towards my future.

Bright and determined,

Persevering to achieve what I need, what I am.

Forging my path ahead,

Through what I must,

Through what I am.

To what I can be, what I can do:

What I can achieve.

My determination pronounced.

The path I must take.

The way I walk with determination into the coming future.

Confining my mistakes to the past.

Mistakes made and a future to be found.

To be made.

To overcome my limitations.

To learn from these lessons from my past, from within.

To forge my future, my path.

Through those lessons from within.

Those lessons from my past.

Life In The Greyscale

Life in the greyscale,

Passing by the sights,

Unable to feel the warmth, smell the scents, see the sights.

Living in the greyscale,
Devoid of colour,
All in grey.

I’ve realised life,
For what it is,
A lie or greyscale.

What many have tried to show me,
To get me to see the meaning,
To be content.

They misunderstand me,
Not to be content with a lie,
Even a beneficial one,
Now I’m left in the greyscale.

Thrown to the sharks of life,
By my friends,
Left to starve,
Left in torture,
Left without meaning, feeling, or acceptance.

By those who I’d give everything to.

Left in disappointment.

Looking for an answer,
But always confronted by the greyscale.

Left in the rain,
Unfeeling,
Watching,
Seeing, but unfeeling.

As I walk through the greyscale.

The life that unfurls before me.

All grey, watched as it passes, but unfelt.

Intriguing but incomprehensible.

Empty and grey.

Thrown away from possible lies,
Acknowledging the greyscale,
Others wanted me to acknowledge:

Life rather than kindness,
Reality rather than care
Limitations rather than desires.

They threw me under,
Thrust the knife so deep.
Left me with nothing.

Less than nothing.

Left with nothingness in face of everything.

The fault of those who threw me to the greyscale.

Who ridiculed me. Who belittled me.

Trying to hold on. Determined to launch out, to break forth.

But for now,
I live,
In this life of greyscale.

Beautiful Spaces

Those beautiful spaces,

The songbirds singing, as night settles.

The calm ocean breeze,

Yellow and green rolling hills,

A comfort,

A familiarity,

Sky a light clear blue,

Off into the distance, at peace,

Only tranquility to be found.

My space,

My place.

My home.

A place I cannot stay,

But I will return, every day,

To feel the peace,

The solitude, but peace.

The nice places,

Nice views.

Alone in life’s complex world.

My world.

My beautiful space.

My place of comfort.

To lose myself in bliss.

To be content, in comfort.

To feel the beautiful space.

Finding my beautiful space,

The place I long to be, and to stay,

This beautiful space.

Screaming At Your Own Confines

My screams at my own confines.

The walls closing in,

The pain drowning out.

No one to help,

No where to go.

Alone in the confines of my self.

Left confused and looking,

In desperation for a solution.

In desperation for help.

Looking and tearing apart my mind and thoughts.

Looking for a way out, a solution.

An escape.

Some help.

A friend to talk to, in my depths of loneliness.

Even as no one can help,

No one can understand.

What is raging in my mind:

The worry and uncertainty.

The longed for solution,

To my panicked fright,

The looming unknown.

The raging desperation,

Dripping from my mind.

Sapping me dry.

Exhausting my being.

Screaming at the confines with no escape.

Screaming at the being that confines me.

The reality that drains me.

The hurt that kills me,

The world that tears me.

The confines from within my mind,

No help to be found, no solace.

No place to find a solution.

No place to find my escape.

The uncertainty drawing on my mind.

Ripping apart my thoughts,

Focussing my pain.

Sharpening my worry.

Keeping me to the confines,

The chains I try to break.

The walls I try to shout down.

Left screaming at my own confines that keep me, the worries that pains me.

‘Truly A Book To Capture It All’ – Review of Stoner by John Williams


He had wanted the singleness and the still connective passion of marriage; he had that, too, and he had not known what to do with it, and it had died. He wanted love; and he had had love, and had relinquished it, had let it go into the chaos of imagepotentiality.

Katherine, he thought. ‘Katherine.’

And he had wanted to become a teacher, and he had become one; yet he knew, he had always known, that for the most of his life he had been an indifferent one. He had dreamed of a kind of integrity, of a kind of purity that was entire; he had found compromise and the assaulting diversion of triviality. He had conceived wisdom, and at the end of the long years he had found ignorance.

Stoner by John Williams, page 285


Stoner, by John Williams, an usual book to start. But. Totally encapsulating. Containing so much feeling, meaning experience. I will give my review of the book, not really a formal review, but one looking and reflecting on the book, feeling and experience of reading it. I endeavour not to mention explicit spoilers, but I do mention my emotional experiences reading it and the emotions it passed onto me (the inspiration for my poem ‘Feelings Not My Own’)

Stoner, a book of an experience, an experience of fiction, but somewhat real. The feelings it portrays are totally real and totally thrust me into the story, caring, experiencing and feeling.

All of the poems that I wrote yesterday, took inspiration from the book, around the section of the above quote, I had to stop. To savour experiencing the end, the feeling, when I could concentrate and experience without distraction and reflect through this blogpost.

The feelings this book can capture and enstill on the reader, are immense, I would describe this book as an emotional rollercoaster. The feelings of love, happiness, existence and passion, but, at least for me, the book seems to emphasise negative feelings. But not ‘negative feelings’ in the conventional sense. I would describe these feelings as negative, but without feeling, a portrayal of the reality behind existence, the reality behind being, the existence of life, and one’s place within it. Here I shall endeavour to encapsulate my feelings and experiences in regards to the book in its totality:


The discovery and ecstacy of love, finding a crush, the feelings behind planning, the future and struggling and succeeding despite all adversity. The choices to be made in life, choices that make us, shape us, define us. The choices we make, the choices that aren’t owned by ourselves, until we make the decision. Then the choice becomes ours, becomes personal and meaningful. There is also the adversity of life not overcome, adversity in existence, the tiresome living, the hurting of family and friends, the loss of those we care for.

The watching as life rolls by, and we make what we can, leave our mark but inevitably fail to find conventional ‘happiness’, but, find a form of contentment out of the adversity, contentment with pain and dissatisfaction, not out of choice, but out of necessity to keep on living. The pain and somewhat helplessness in dealing with situations and people encountered in life.

The friendships made and kept and solidified through truth, adversity, hardship and mutual love and care. As life goes on, never enough time, never enough done, never enough success to make one feel full and content, nevertheless contentment and perseverence and change to overcome all adversity.

It is totally encapsulating a feeling I cannot express with words; a feeling of contentment out of unrelenting discontentment, of existing without achievement, but continuing to persevere for your aims and continue to keep journeying to achieve them, even if you never actually achieve them, you make the journey anyway and contently, live out your life with the aim in mind, the objective aimed for.

The book’s ending (from around page 285 until the end), I will try not to spoil (as much as I can while expressing my more affective ‘review’). One that encapsulates the book, the ending, a fitting end, one that captures and summarises the whole book, not in a repetitive manner, but one suitable to, in my opinion, its aimed portrayal, of life, without highlight of the good times, without hiding the bad times, but merely portraying human experience, in a way that truly resonated with me. The portrayal of sadness, closing, finality and happiness, dissatisfaction, reminiscing and also summarising and deep-contemplation. The very last page. Written to perfection. Even thinking of it, causes my eyes to well-up. A perfect, concise, summarised end. Like the finalities found in everyday living, without show, or celebration, without positivity or negativity, just sweet, maybe reluctant, but nevertheless final, end. Drifting off into silence. As the words on the page end with the final period… and then… silence.


A powerful story, I know that I paint a bleak picture of the novel, but, it is more than this. It’s more than the sum of its parts (not to mention the subjective experience of the reader that needs not be said). It is a book, not everyone will like, it’s writing is definitely unconventional, but I find this is its beauty, it captures reality, as nothing else does. Captures reality, much like my poetry does for me, and also the poetry I read from many others on WordPress. Capturing reality, for what it is. The highs of the good experience, the lows of the bad. The real life existence. The one we share, both content, and also discontent.

Although I say it’s a novel that not everyone will ‘like’, I would say that I think everyone should give it a read. I would unapologetically be happy to suggest this  novel to anyone I know, especially anyone I feel comfortable to talk to about personal and emotional matters.

To personally summarise this novel and my experience reading it in very few words:

A book that captures reality. For what it is.

 

 

I would like to write a note, to my very close friend who gifted this novel to me, inspirsation for ‘Little Gift From the Heart‘, thank you so very much for this book. I sure hope that you do not see this review, and if you do… that you do not think it too harsh, or feel the book’s been a saddening experience. It has been a realistic experience, a vicarious living and experiencing of a life, not my own. Yet also I see past experiences, events, ways of thinking also appear throughout this book, almost every couple of pages. This book was a mixed experience to read, but an invaluable one, and one I am a better person for reading. Thank you, thank you very much Ruby.