Shoreline paraphrases; peace be with you
even in cold
it has a soul of its own
with therapeutic qualities
that seduces the willing
to open up to its innocence
as beauty unfolds,
of offering forgiveness
to the faces of rock
as their identity
is swallowed by the sea sweep
Pending tides high
as hard places collide
with grace and compassion,
No competition to the sky
rip, roaring, receding
loud, but with a never ending stillness
captured in time
compensating the storm,
Mysterious and magical streams
passing through the waves
with the freedom of expanse
to the sea
as the pebbles dance
No I don’t want to go
Can’t you see it in my eyes?
Too late, the fear has grabbed me backwards,
Rocking my senses,
Encroaching in my mind.
I feel the endless pit in my stomach,
Taste the blood in my mouth,
Physically true and real happenings,
Results of the symptoms of fear.
The only illusion is the dark before me,
And the voices whispering false truths,
Confirming I should be afraid.
To freeze would mean an endless limbo
Of excruciating pain,
Fighting no option, as I would just be punching shadows.
Flight seems to warmly pierce my thoughts.
I stand alone in body and mind, facing travesty all around,
Frozen in an hellish silence with all hope lost.
Then without warning my shoulders are seized.
Not by claws or talons, more like enlarged fingers attached to strong muscle,
Like an exaggerated humans foot,
Only softer and warm to touch.
A Firm grip lifts me from the cold slab from which I’m perched.
I don’t see the face of my saviour
Only the sound of a force flapping against gravity.
A white feather escapes its host and floats down before me,
Signalling peace and freedom.
I know now I’m being carried to safety,
By my guardian who saw it worthwhile to intervene.
As a passenger soaring upwards towards the light,
I look down to the abyss from which I came.
It still whispers and reaches at its prey,
Seething as it’s fodder takes flight,
Escaping their clutches of seduction.
Something I can only describe as demon makes one last attempt to pull me down to the underbelly of life,
Where confusion and guilt is rife.
It fails, my winged guardian drives up full force,
Sensing the threat of danger from below,
Knowing a desperate monster has no boundaries or honour, to a soul they’ve lost and failed to pollute.
I almost allow myself a smile as I fly away…
And then I awake.
Lied in bed lethargic and mentally exhausted,
Pondering whether this vision was a dream or reality.
I decide not to answer,
Questions of doubt lead to darkness, and I’ve only just escaped.
For now I will sleep, listening to my heartbeat,
And counting my breaths.
As my eyes shut in peace,
The vision of a feather is the last thing I see,
Gently floating in and out of consciousness.
Modern times where kindness is in ration
We‘re all looking for a wide range of compassion
People sitting on top of their own domain,
In generations, the self-fish will remain,
Spreading in a world full of noise and hate
I just put reality, in to words that can translate.
Don’t look back in pain, anger or regret
Go with the gut, seek out the missing outlet
One chance, one choice, be very wise
Time’s too short to live by disguise.
The lessons in life react when quiet
Tune out the noise, release the riot
Don’t listen to the negative and sour,
They’re scared you’ll make your finest hour.
Thoughts are thoughts, the character is true,
Show compassion to me, I’ll show it to you
That niggling passion, go see it through,
Overall message, live for what you’re destined to do.
Choose not to believe
the lies and deceit
that deviants spread
and can’t be unsaid
A devil of deception
seduces their reception
with slanderous myths
of various trysts
They add to the absurd
from what they’ve heard
of an innocent kind
Exaggeration can kill
Can a liar feel
Is their conscious clear
when a victim is near
an edge of a gully
because of a bully
So don’t be naive
with what you believe
look at the source
and don’t be forced
into the game
of slandering a name
for the sake of fun
or disliking someone
With social media
it’s a lot easier
to make somebody bleed
by planting a seed
into empty shells
who don’t think for themselves
These people speaking
are just seeking
praise and attention
with no life to mention
Lies and rumour
a growing tumour
within our society
aiming for notoriety
It’s not clever
It’s no great endeavour
Help people, be kind
easing the mind
keep silent on the lies
Think with the wise.
Chris Chant 2018
Imagination becomes a foe.
All of a sudden I crack – Snap,
Then lost in the commotion
the mind gets dense
unable to travel mentally
and my eyes are vice like shut.
Reached the pinnacle of panic
If I died now so be it – False statement
I know this can’t kill me
It just makes me stronger.
This anxiety is a passing shot
a warning with no substance
that used to never end
or that’s how it felt.
As a scene in a film
the mind zooms back to focus
back to the beginning.
Open my eyes, slowly
I’m in reality now, real time
knelt to the floor but alive.
Nod appreciation to the helpers.
The episodes are shortening
as I’m learning
to cope with the bad days.
I remind myself
I bring on the fear
I can take it away.
The chattering begins
Hands scratch at the noises – scrape, scraping
that brings itchiness and irritants
to this controlled invasion.
A mind built of glass
cracked at the foundations.
Lucid thoughts shatter houses.
The Scattering shards produce a prickly sensation
Trespassing in the brain
leaving jagged edges
and haunted images.
I can see the ghosts of shame
walking the corridors
accusing the past.
My silent screams scare no-one.
Walls closing in
evaporating my screams
suffocating my dreams.
I surrender to the torment
lying back on protruded thorns
that pay homage to the sacrifice.
Breath diminished, colludes with the flames
causing an energy collapse
which leaves the mind broken
to a body unclaimed.
If I had to write this with compulsions
It would take a hour for each word
An empty shell with a story to tell
Thank heavens I can now be heard
Blurry lyrics or a collection of genius
My perception they all make sense
A messy mind had a complex calm
Writing this feels so intense
My lowest point, I’d be counting letters
Fragile with anger in my darkest hour
Turning pages a bittersweet torment
Anxiety risen, a story turned sour
Six months I’ve received this calm gift
Continued to put paper to pen
A thought stuck in the back of my mind,
Will my creative desire be grounded again?
Youth was hell, middle age is now
Although the middle feels like pretend,
Because what if this just six months relief,
Keep questioning how’s it going to end?
This thought really struck hard
A pool of water drowning my flair
The best way to be guided forward,
Is to make it real, stick it out there
A clear mind feels to good to be pure
Intrusive thoughts, a form of creative theft
If I couldn’t produce my written work,
My impression is, I’d have nothing left
I’m pleased my lyrics are not lost in translation
It’s where my silent mind has its speech
Forever fighting this fermenting stigma
I hope its helped someone, the people it has reached…