Ordinary Perfection

The day as it goes by,
Ordinary perfection,
Just another day,
Another day of light.

Beauty found in the being.
The ordinary world,
Perfection from an ordinary day.

The day comes as it goes,
Beauty in the ordinary,
Perfection in the being.

Sitting, thinking.
At the end.
Of this ordinary day,
One in ordinary perfection.

A day to be found,
As it’s found.
In such an ordinary day.

Writing this, it’s been a really good day. Lot of productive work done, on a really good essay I’m enjoying. On my favourite band, one I love totally; Green Day.

Just watched Ordinary World the film, with the lead singer of Green Day. Currently listening to their song of the same name on repeat.

Thinking about a lot. Too much to say. Happy, thinking.


Sweet End

As the sweet end goes,
A song until close,
A sweet end,
The song flowing on.

Violin to close,
Once a start,
Then to end.
So strong,
A finality,
As it all comes to close.

A goodbye into the night.
Before a new beginning.

The shine of the moonlight.
The last ray of day,
So much gone,
A world left behind,
Another world to greet,
Another day to meet.
Following from this sweet end.

So much,
All those times,
Such, to remember the start,
When at the final close.

The sweet song sings,
A goodbye before night,
At least before morning light.

From such a sweet end.

Watched the very final episode of this series, a spin off series continuing one I loved from my childhood, it’s been a while since I’ve found a series that bring raw emotions with such simple art style, story, symbolism.

Thinking also of the friend who got me to watch this after having it on my list for years, also in part because I feared it would ruin the first, at first I was very critical, but it improved and now I’m so glad I did.

I’d dedicate this poem to the friend who got me to actually watch the series.

A friend I’ve not known for long.

I wrote this, thinking of the feelings, from the episode, what it means, why the feelings occur. Also thinking about real life, meeting my friend for the first time, times we’ve hung out.

As with almost all my poems, they’re never only about the thing that inspires me to write, but what that brings, what it means, how my mind connects it with the many many, too many other things in life; past, present, future.

Dedicated to a friend I probably won’t know for too much longer unfortunately, so, on many fronts, for many reasons, this poem is about a sweet end.

Little Song Into the Night

Little song into the night,
Into this peaceful night,
As the wind blows,
Into the night,
So this little song goes.

To see,
to feel,
Thiss little night,
As it goes off,
The wind to take,
Free and away,
Till that new day comes.

The branches swaying,
Time flowing,
The sweet night’s whistling.

As this sweet world goes,
This little song into the night.

Lying Empty

Lying, empty.
Sad, with and without reason.
Wishing for it to end.
The struggle,
My emptiness,

Trying but always crushed,
Crushed at a turn.
Flogging myself onward,
Wanting to collapse,
And why,

Lying here empty.
Wanting a 2am walk,
Alone, the depth of darkness.
To feel, to not be alone, while alone.
The only person in this world.
Painful existence.

Desiring a walk,
No matter what tomorrow brings,
Nevermind it all.
I want to walk,
Find a place,
To sit, to stay.
To wait, and try to feel.

Writing this, feeling a bit sad, a bit empty, I don’t know why, but I also do. But even then I don’t know why. Just feel hurt, hurt because I can feel, wanting not to. But I’ve been there before, the choice.

The choice to feel, and always be in constant pain or a lack of feeling and to be empty, then in pain because of the emptiness and then always in pain.

Two choices, a summary of life, a single outcome. Went to counselling a little while ago. Didn’t help in the slightest, everything that happened, was said, I knew already. To be honest was a total waste of time. It’s like being told 2+2 is 4 when you’re in your twenties. Totally obvious and only demonstrated my worst fears to be true.

Those Little Ways

Those little ways,
The little things,
Kind and nice,
Happy and sad.
All at once.
A single, all-encompassing composition.

A convas of totality,
Of thought, feelings and being.
This life of mine,
Confuses me so.
The intricacies of it all.
All the knowledge of the world,
Never enough to feed this confusion,
Mess of emotions,
Those little things,
Without logic,
Without knowledge.

Always thinking,
Both happy and sad,
Thinking through.

I lay on the grass,
In the dark of night.
Looking into the stars,
As they look back.

Laying here,
Thinking as it never stops.
A little happy,
A little sad.
Thinking of these times,
And those little ways.

Until my eyes close,
To meet another day.

Feeling a little sad, not really for any reason. I don’t really know. Had a good day, I know what it is, but it’s only been good today. Until tomorrow. Hope it’s better.

Those moments when you cannot stop thinking.

“It’s alright”. But it’s not.

It’s alright,
As I look away,
The tear in my eye,
Face turned away.
But it’s not.

I smile,
Knowing its a lie,
Seeing the path ahead,
Telling a white lie to a friend,
A smile, hug,
Kind act.

Tear in my eye.
“It’s alright”, but it’s not.

A needed lie,
To a kind soul.
Shutting the door,
Closing the blinds,
Leaving be.
A letter without a goodbye,
An ending abrupt.

I haven’t got the heart to tell ya,
Such a noble lie.
Kindness, help.

My sour reward to your kindness.
But you’ll never understand,
And this is exactly why.

Why this lie is made.

A smile with one face,
As the other cries.

But you.
It’s alright.
It really is.
Even if it isn’t.
It really is.

Been thinking a lot. My current physical situation, the future, plans, practicalities I cannot see ending well, people who care too much, lies I have to tell. Wrote a lot on my Moodtrack. My body is dying, the mind kept alive at this cost. Either way, loss of one or the other.

Writing this, thinking of the physical struggles I’m going through after an amazing night it with friends. But still these exist. No one ever sees me, the truth, because I always hide. A lie of myself, easy to tell if I believe it in the moment. No one needs to hear my struggles, pain, hurting.

One thing I feel sad about. My best friend. I always try never to lie to. But this cannot last. I’m walking down a path, they wouldn’t let me without help. But I can’t burden them.

A path I foresee an end, but would never burden them with it. My end.

This path, two roads, one the death of the body, the other the death of the mind. Either path, the only paths the same end.

What I do. What I try. My best. My all. Never can do anything to solve this.

One thing I plan to do, after my degree, is to write a story or poetry series or blog about it. If I make it that far. A story I have wanted to write for a while, but will put it off until it’s a story behind me.

One of the body dying, the mind dying but still dragging the former along. Like a dying horse pulling along a dead elephant.

All the practicalities feeling so bleak. I can only pretend for so long that everything is okay. Feel bad for the lies.

I feel bad for the lies, I have to tell to my best friend. They’re the best person I know, the person I care about most. Would do anything for. It is for this reason, I’m okay with lying to them in this case. For them as they’d never accept it, they’re too kind, too nice.

Was going to talk more about the problems I’m facing, but can’t. Maybe they’ll be left for another day. Or that retrospective post.

Mind’s Run

The mind’s run,
A moment, quick,
Like those old times.
Their past shape,
Etched into my mind.
A time so old, so new.
So distant and changed.

And off this mind runs,
Thinking of all these times,
Gone past. New, change and through.

A mere moment of respite,
A time to relax,
Forget my pain.
Off my mind runs.
Living for a mere moment.

To be free,
To try and be at peace.

The mind, running,
Only for a time,
The path runs out.
The road runs dry.

The mind’s run,
For a time.

Good, been out with good friends I haven’t seen in ages! So long! Way too long! So poor and it hurts, always thinking of cost and having to anaesthetise my mind. Such a little cost, but when you haven’t a pound to yourself. Am I worth that small amount? Questions, but for now, I anaesthetise my mind, to live happy.

Feels Cold

Feels cold,
A winter-dark night,
Walking home alone,
Darkness, calming,
A truth of the day.

Or is it?
I cannot tell.
Darkness thrown aside,
My pain taken away,
The pain gone.

I guess the scarring remains,
Lost trust,
People, only good for breaking you.

Feels cold, this winter night.
Wishing the cold wind,
To rock me to sleep,
The cold embrace of life,
Sapping, real,
The cold,
All to be trusted.

Nothing too cold, too dark.
Life shows me all of this.
Let the cold take me,

Just thinking,
In a punishing world,

Feels cold.

This world so unsure,
The dark winter night,
Walking home, pitch blackness,
No care in the world,
Emptiness, like the blackness of the path ahead.
Like the feeling of drifting away,
In the cold wind.

Feels cold.

Writing this feeling a little better, lots of little things have helped. The temporary lie, distraction from the real, from the truth. But distract myself I go, see how long it lasts. Writing this, thinking of before, today, when I came up for the title of this, the feeling for this.

Time’s Close

To be at time’s close,
A mark in place,
A locality, held, suspended, in being.

The passing nature of everything,
Being in a moving moment,
Passing relative,
Through marked moments.

To be at time’s close.

Comes a reminder,
Motive, time, feeling.
At the close, stands an opening.

This place,
A new beginning,
My new eyes, sights to greet me.

At time’s close.

Had a tumultuous week. Not been sad, but been feeling empty, luckily most of it I have been okay, been kept busy by work, a lot of work. Kept me from thinking.

Back about a week, things got confusing, hectic, luckily today, things have finally gotten okay, uncertain but okay, something to go through. Hope for. I’ll try. That’s all I can do. So much is going well with everything recently.

It’s looking up.

More of an abstract poem, describing thoughts and feelings of my own into a random abstract mass of collected ideas.

Path Once Tread

The path once tread,
A path forking before me,
Being pushed to decision,
A choice, mine, but also not.
Forced to take a path,
With pain either side.

The path,
Itself, shows me promise but pain on one,
Next to a barren path, of lifeless functionality.
Both paths, also behind me, chosen in a network behind me.

How I come to the forked road again,
Having already walked,
Known how both turn out,
Left with different ways,
Hurt, thinking,
But one gives me reason, but also pain.

But whichever path I’m on,
The other’s more appealing.
Despite rationalising each and how they go.

Know what’s good for me, also isn’t,
But is better than the other.

Still this question flows through my mind.
A time,
Waiting for the next time,
Only on this current path.

A single step shutting it all down,
A single step,
From the best and worst feelings, to the painless, but also all-lacking.

My choice?
My path,
A path once tread,
Still, stuck with a choice,
An impossible choice.

Choice, of a path once tread.

Thinking, very deep-in-thought. People often try to give me advice, but it always comes back a singular aspect, a lack of understanding. A piece of advice given, consistently, may work for others, but is one thing that always takes everything of meaning from me. Leaves me with nothing. A path once tread, more than once, I’ve walked many times.

The past times that I have followed, thinking it would help, always has left me empty, dead in mind but not in actuality. Only serves to remind me, how no one understands, can understand.

People see me as crazy, loony, often hurting myself. There is a difference, this is normal, but hurt can be coped with if being meaningful. The advice people give, often, takes one pain away, by taking away the meaning and making everything into a weird state of not caring about anything, being robotic and functioning alive as a human but not wanting to.

Leaves me to a choice I have taken, thought about many times. To take a path that may hurt, but gives me a reason to keep fighting, or to take a path without the pain of the aforementioned but only by taking everything of meaning.

A life of emptiness is never better than a life of pain, if the latter comes with meaning and a strive to better.

I’m writing this, knowing how the path has always turned out, but being somewhat compelled to take the path, to leave myself with emptiness. Emptiness of everything. Happenings of today.

I do not know. My tonight’s going to be filled with pondering.

I know the outcome, as always, but the choice has to be made, not making a choice is a choice.

Feeling a little better writing this, and writing tonnes on my MoodTrack. Better, but still lacking a solution, an answer. Just happier, thinking of my best friend, the best human I know. And something they said to me, have done quite a few times, explaining stuff, helping, but never solving, much like the path I’m on even wanting the empty one sometimes. She said ‘You just see things differently’.

Will still need a lot of time tonight to think, but yeah.