The Path

The path, journey,

The ups and downs,

And on it goes, through this path,

A on-going gradual path,

Into the sunlight,

Into night.

Into life.

The path walked,

Many times, and never simultaneously.

The times shared, the sun felt.

The sound of the guitar in the backdrop.

The sun setting on the horizon,

To be followed by night, then day.

The ongoing times, of sun and bright feelings.

The need to remember, the need to hold on.

An emotional rollercoaster,

Of ecstasy and emptiness.

The times gone through.

The experiences felt.

The sun shining down on the ground.

On the warm face,

The light.

The happiness and sadness.

Both at one.

Together in feeling.

Both making us human.

This is the ongoing path.

The confusion and doubt, with the aftertaste of faith.

The need for meaning,

The meaning behind being.

The grace of living, loving, being and making use of the finite time.

The time to be spent,

Loved,

Lived.

That path taken. That path of life.

The path we all walk.

The path.
Written reflecting on the book ‘Stoner’ by John Williams

My Affliction.

Memory of what should be let go.

Hearing that mustn’t be heard.

Senses heightened, for what shouldn’t be known.

To let myself live, in the present. At all.

The affliction of knowing, when one should ignore.

Caring too much as I need to break out.

Break my chains, my mind and spirit.

Break apart all that is held together.

Broken and shattered through my affliction.

Left Alone

Left alone,

That’s how it goes,

First to start,

Last to stop.

Left alone and predicted this,

That’s the way it goes.

The inevitable end.

The continuous path,

Expected and to be expected.

Left down, like a person with nothing left.

And loving it.

The rage and realisation.

The life and the longing.

The buildup and expectations.

The waiting and expectation.

Going on alone, as I know I must go.

The ongoing movement through time.

This onward treading.

The way it goes, and the way it must.

Ready for the shit that comes, as it always will.

No me gusta.

But that is life, the one I live.

The one I’ve been given.

The one I have and have to make.

The way I live, the way I go.

The good turning chaotic,

The way going blank.

The path turning off.

The way fading to black.

Living in the darkness and making it my own.

Owning the life that I lead.

Holding on tight to the war inside my mind.

Facing my firing squad.

Smiling in the face of it all,

In the face of the darkness and the pain.

Spitting in the face of death and darkness.

Making it mine,

Commanding it to my will and presence.

My will, it will become mine.

The path I must take,

Alone and smile.

The lonely road I walk.

To spit in the face of it all.

To face my fate,

To face my demons.

Spit in the face of it all.

The sinner of the world,

Of the darkness and the pain.

The path I walk.

The way I move.

The way I drift back and forth,

Drift off into the darkness,

Into my life eternal,

The eternal pain, ongoing and suffering.

To walk on and out,

Off into darkness.

On and off I go,

Moving on into the night.

Into the life that awaits.

This darkness I delve into,

Fight,

Rage,

Win.

Taking the pain,

Making it my own,

Making it mine.

Holding on in and through the rage.

Loving it with life as my witness.

Cutting the chord.

Stringing myself up in this life.

Loving ever second.

This rage and love,

Happiness and courage.

Weakness and strength.

Left alone, waking to my destination. The noose of the depths of the ocean.

And on I continue, left alone to my inevitable path.

Rather Not

Would rather not.

Rather not remember or know,

Trying to build a facade, to cope, to forget.

To erase from my mind the pain.

To get rid of the feeling, the memories.

To erase a pain, still so raw.

A pain ever-present,
Only merely tucked away,
Only merely hidden and put out of mind.
Only left,
A festering wound,
A corrupting influence.

Ripping into my mind,
Into my soul,
Hurting and pained.

The drops by my side.

The pain and the flinching.

Left out, in the open,

Hurting.

Dying in the open field.

Left. Lying, wounded. Dying.

I would rather not.

A world of keys, codes, my mind and torture.
Another day in the life of my mind.

Another day, waiting, for it to end.

To forget, so I can live.

To erase my mind,
To go on.

I would rather not.

Rather not remember.
Rather not be reminded.
Rather not be hurt.

Remembering The Times

Remembering the times,

Those good days,

Always a place in my mind.

The thinking, memories and the times.

Left in the feeling.

Of those good times.

The memories and places once been.

The memories and thoughts,

An ever-present reminder.

Living in the present,

Waiting for the times ahead,

Remembering those good times gone past.

A collection of memories,

A life, all on shown before me, of me.

A pleasant reminder,

Remembering the times.

Reminder Of Me

A reminder of me,

Who I used to be,

Free eternal, unbound and unchained.

Free-thinking, a spirit in good health.

Loving life for the friends who’ve touched me,

Those who unknowingly saved me.

To those I would do the same.

To save, to walk the ends of the earth for,

Those kind few, who reminded me of me,

Me of who I was,

Me of the worth of living.

The escape from a horrid past,

The needless pain,

To those who confirmed,

Who backed,

Those who supported.

I hold you dear.

Dear to my soul.

Dear to my being.

Those who reminded me of who I am and who I need to be, should be, will be.

Lonely Figure By the Pond-Side

That lonely figure by the pond-side.

Drooped over, embracing this solitude they find themself in. Holding a hand up to the sky.

Wondering if anyone will pass by,

Wondering where their life has gone,

The warmth evaporated.

Tears run down their cheek,

Flowing into the collection of water around them.

Watching people walk past and fade,

They remain,

They remain unmistakably alone, with no one.

No once can hear their cries,

No one wants to.

No one pays them attention,

They don’t deserve it.

Left alone wondering by the lakeside,

The reflection, a mirage, beckoning them further in.

Showing a reflection; the tired eyes, deep wrinkles, sad demeanour, empty mind and sad soul.

The figure kneels, absorbing the loneliness,

Wanting an end to the emptiness.

Looking around and longing,

For a friend to site beside them.

Waiting for home to find them.

Then comes the realisation:

They are alone, are unwanted and a burden to all who had once cared.

They are in a turbulent and reluctant peace.

Leaving all whom they cares about alone.

Because they are alone, are unwanted and a burden to all who had once cared.

They are then left, a mere sad and lonely figure, sitting by the pond side.

Walking Through Those Familiar Places

Walking through those familiar places,

Old, calm and at peace.

With nothing to do.

Alone and empty.

An empty person in this empty world.

Nature in my gaze.

It’s mere existence without realisation,

Without reason, without knowing.

Walking in familiar the memories and mirages.

Flashes of a time once been,

The sun once shone.

A shadow once placed.

All left, and passing, when walking through those familiar places.

What Will Be

What will be,

The little messages,

Small conversations,

People met,

Friendships kept,

Life ongoing

Outcomes found,

All these things will be, as they will, be.

Will continue, will change

Will find their way.

To continue, change and form.

Will be, and live and find.

Answers to those questions,

Embodying hopes, dreams, aspirations and paths to be found.

Those things that will be.

These times to come,

Places to see,

People to meet,

These things continue,

These things will be,

As they continue to be.

Childhood Cares

Those childhood cares,

A lack of worries,

Ignorant childhood bliss,

The world laid out on a plate.

Novel experiences all around.

New people, places and things.

The world, an empty canvas,

To be filled with life.

All progressing.

Onwards through the march of time.

To a point where you do not know,

Where the time has gone.

Gone before missed.

Those childhood cares,

Gone in a flash.

To be replaced by others.

New fears and cares,

To replace the old.

More novel times, novel experiences.

To chart a way from those childhood cares.