Coincidences

The master of disguise never wears a costume
Just hides the sides of his mind,
The myth becomes alive
To the right side of the brain,
It makes us dance to silence
Create with nothing
And paint colours to the sky,
When it takes over
Overcoming the left distant side
You will strive for the feeling
Of exuberance
To last forever,
Never wanting to ever let go,
This is the only way
To move forward and evolve.

Underneath the sky

Do you know the fear
Of stepping outside,
Shaking with exhaustion,
To have Convulsions
With the thought
Of impending doom
From venturing in to the world.

Choosing instead to stay
In the zone of comfort,
Ride out the anxiety,
Hide from any knocking doors,
Cover my ears, praying they will leave,
Eyes tightly shut, only opening
To Time watch the clock,
Waiting,
Until the deadline passes
That I was expected.

At this time relief sets in
A weight is lifted,
Able to exhale,
Even though I’ve failed,
Let people down
Through not turning up,
Ruining reputation,
Using up all the forgiveness allowed,
Resulting in bad looks and stares from afar.

Even though because of this,
I’m relieved,
I didn’t have to go,
Put myself through hell
By advancing through the front door,
I can live with this for tonight,
Enjoy the feeling of safety,
Celebrate my avoidance,
I’ve got away with it once again…
Until the next time.

Amputated

Two fingers amputated due to a work accident.
For a recreational writer and poet it can be a massive setback.
Not being able to make notes quickly, and struggling to get motivated or creative when looking at a loss which is so obvious in front of my face.
Worrying what other people think of my deformity.

But we must crack on and tell our story.
I’ve suffered mentally in the past, and now physically.
Because it’s my writing hand I feel like I’m being tormented or warned by some higher power.

But alas that is just my imagination, which is still fully intact.
I will adapt and embrace the change. Though it may be a slower process, words will still flow and my story will go on…

Two Halves

This poem is featured in the Poetry book – Encryption of the Mind.
Which is now available to buy or download from Amazon and other good bookstores or

https://www.austinmacauley.com/book/encryption-mind
❤👍

Two halves

You may think these words are heavy
It’s hard not to be with mental illness
Most would of stopped reading by now
Some stayed just to be curious

Maybe you stayed because you can relate,
To how it felt and how it affected you
The Love, fear, happiness and hate
We’re constantly have, and are going through

Those first two verses were written when really low,
God, reading it brings me down
But only to a level of understanding
All part of turning your life around

Well, you got this far, and not by chance
Seen off the mysterious voices
Freedom is a wonderful thing
Being able to make life choices

A lot of life has been wasted
Solving an impossible puzzle
Time to look past, look forward
Take off that emotional muzzle

I don’t want to end this like I’m preaching,
But theres one thing I’ve identified,
If you do relate, then you’re a kind, loyal,
Beautiful, passionate, creative, ambitious and caring person…
… Don’t hide!

Happy People

Happy People

I’m sinking
Sinking in drinking
Swallowing my soul,
Im thinking, thinking
Of sinking
Swallowed down whole

I’m breathing
Breathing in light
Where darkness still reigns,
I’m sorry
Sorry for everything
Guilt runs through my veins

I’m leaving
Leaving through time
I’ve nothing left,
Come find me
Find me in peace
There’s no judgement in death.

I Swear

I have been Cursed
For causing dark treason,
Bringing public the fight
That reins against my demons,

As I focus my words, I become,
The truth bringer,
So action is taken
And mystical fate looses my fingers.

Twice a digit has been sacrificed
Amputated to order,
By the secret forces
Who watch over the borders,

A thin veil of protection
A line of hidden meaning,
A dark threat to my spirit,
Soon I will be bleeding

My Penship is now a martyr
Twice finger limbs have been cut
But I will never stop the write
Though my hand is truly fucked.

I Dont like Wednesdays

I Don’t Like Wednesdays

Days are set in limbo
To which I will explode,
These times I’ve grown to hate
With Life falling on this date,
Clocks have all the power
Striking on doomed hours,
Wilting bodies until raw
Curling naked in a ball,
Drowning in self sweat
Flooding rooms with regret,
Please wake me up on the bell
When the days are not in hell.

For no man

When’s there’s no immediate danger
Worry people worry about time,
Haunted by the past and future
By a spectre of the present,
In the now, time doesn’t exist
Until you ask its whereabouts
And trace its movements,
Once spotted it’s hidden
Amongst the angst and worry,
And then just like that it’s gone,

Is half a second
Worth the fret of not living,
To die waiting
For the next half second
To be fruitful,
Until finally it mounts up
To a lifetime of looking back,
Regrets,
And just death to look forward to.

White light

I have no ideas
Only thoughts that pass through me in seconds,
Do I choose to embrace the emotions this brings,
Or ignore the creativity
And the imagination buried deep inside
That rises to my consciousness
In that split second,
The risk is in the exploration
Of this time period,
To delve in the dark,
Step foot in my minds blindspot
And view the games it plays
When I’m not looking.
Without this I am dull
A blank canvas of regret,
So I explore
And take the chance everytime
That reality will pull me back.