Bridge To Cross

Bridge to Cross

Give life away in the now to re-live the past,
To feel happiness, one that will last,
To go back would you choose the rain,
To dance at night awaiting the train,
Feel stripped naked and left so bare,
With choices re-made to prove that you care

Pay with the present to go back in time,
Live a little and claim what is mine,
Voice all emotions, say how you feel,
Tell people their futures, tell them what’s real,
Catch up with past friends who are sadly missed,
Track down past loves for a long lost kiss

Remind your past self how great you are,
Voice to your family that you’re never too far,
To leave the present to complete those dreams,
Is a dream itself, a life with no seams,
To re-do the pleasures the mind wouldn’t allow,
It’s still not too late to change all this now

The life beat still flows hard through veins,
Maybe having the chance to make choices again,
Your mind has shown what the will desires,
A choice to what sets your heart on fire,
A promise to yourself that you need to keep,
Should you ever awake, from your self induced sleep.

First Impressions

Nurturing is the needle that knots
Emotional scars
Torn carelessly open by insolence
And a near-dormant past,
Arroused by soundless screams
The inner voice reaches out
To the dispassionate shells
Fingering on the heart strings of the scorn,
Though the tune is soft
The notes are true
Inviting ignorance to fall
And a frigid heart to warm.

Change the Ending

Is our future already written? Is that why some of us suffer, because we see glimpses of what’s to come. While others are blind to it. Living happy but blind to what lays ahead.

No of course not. Just another theory my messy mind has come up with to justify my avoiding, and testing myself in anxious situations. Giving up instead of increasing the effort.

Whatever is true, whatever the ending, make the beginning and middle honest, happy and true.

Change The Ending

The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts, deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition, not nearer nor faster

Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct, repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change

An unconscious unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending is where a new first begins.

Broken

On a bad day, as an anxious person I look around sussing out my surroundings. On occasion a person looks back and senses my social and general pain. In that moment I inside beg they don’t ask me ‘if I’m ok’ as I know I will break down if spoken too. I pray they let me be, just nod or squeeze my hand.

It’s confusing and complex how one moment I want someone to listen and understand my pain, and the next I want to be invisible and ignored. At these times my thoughts are against me.

Broken

If you notice how I feel

Please don’t go ahead and ask

As my tears will start to surface

And wash away my mask

You stare in to my eyes

To notice I’m not blinking

Please keep my aching secret

That inside my heart is sinking

I will just get through this moment

Squeeze my hand, but keep my lie

My strength will suppress my tears

Only alone will I break and cry

An Island to the world

Honesty in words, sometimes easier than spoken. Anyways who would listen? In poetry, words and emotions seek out their audience, asks to be understood and felt. Touching the reader in ways that provokes the mind to think in different ways.

An Island to the world

I probably should’ve wrote this first,
When I started putting life into verse,
Putting down words I dared not spoken, How my mind had always been broken

Nerves was born of glass, and it smashed,
Rain of pain came down and it lashed Worn down my will, little by little,
Lived oblivious that it could be so brittle

Reflection was just full of hate,
Internal voices sunk like a weight,
I felt split in two, split apart,
Broken conscience with a broken heart

Life in chains and my choices forced,
Positive crumbs are begged and sourced,
Kicked and punched when already floored,
Fear and worry to you I applaud

Does this tale have a happy ending,
Of happiness without full time pretending?

Everyday was a fight and a clash,
On my back cloaked a negative rash,
Blackness swamped and the doubt increased,
Unknown friends, nursed piece by piece

I wouldn’t want to walk in my shoes,
With this broken mind I didn’t choose,
Wouldn’t wish this on my greatest foe,
A poisoned clasp that never let’s go.

Yes

We all need an outlet, a release, words are mine. Using my messy head to spout how I feel. An honest rendition of one of my days.

‘Yes’

Having the will to be critical and angry,
To encourage, I didn’t have the energy
Being ‘pretend’ happy got me nowhere,
Touch of sarcastic praise, ‘there there’
I shouted and shouted to seem taller,
The realism, as a person I was smaller

Anxiety closing in, please let me out
Only option left was to try and shout
Hard to describe the way I felt
Not living real, playing the hand I’m dealt
Trying to be kind, by being cruel
Ending with someone, before they end with you

The only happiness came at the end of a bar,
Ending relationships, before they got too far,
To the extent of cheating, being immature,
Did nothing for my personality, or stature
Before they see I have an anxious mind
To show my real feelings, I would be blind

Had to get out, put my sanity first,
The OCD had an unquenchable thirst
When I laughed, or played at being a brat,
My self preservation had kicked in, only I knew that
The irony is, of ending all ties,
Is turning to drink, who Fed me all lies

I was lonely alone and I needed out
Put a pin in my pain and please bleed me out
Pretty much treated everyone the same,
Looking to leave you, looking real lame
If I let you down I have no excuse,
apart from wanting to be a full time recluse

OCD, anxiety, depression, I could go on
Not for sympathy or any attention,
After 30 years now my script is my own,
The mind dictator, has been disowned

A sea of uncertainty for years I swam,
Haven’t drowned yet so here I am,

My life was a pebble, buried in the sand
With help I was excavated safely to land
Allowed to sit in the sun and shine
I can be myself with no invisible whine

So though in the past, I did act very strange,
a little understanding would be good, because believe me I’ve changed.

Storm

The wind

Invisible and forceful

Placid turning foreboding

Collapsing all in its path

Just as emotions,

Invisible to the eye

But felt,

Bring a person to its knees

Struggling to walk, speak and see

Blinded by adverse thinking

Conceived by an internal hurricane,

Leaves fall, skies cloud

As does the soul,

Natures storm transferring to the mind

Dark to dark

Cold to cold,

Help bring shelter to the stranded

Feel their breeze upon ones face,

Though the sun is bright

Somewhere close, behind the eyes

A storm is approaching.