Paradise

Man said ‘I will listen’
But hear he does not,
A trampled soul shouts for mortality
The world falls deaf,
A false leap is threatened
The crowd go blind,

We drain the rivers
After the soul has drowned,
Pump the stomach
When life is empty,
And break down bridges
To bury the skeleton.

Local guilt heals with time
And becomes no crime,
In the aftermath signs were seen
And remorse takes over.
At this point
‘Ask for help’ they say
But fear suffocates any voice

And even though
Life is at half mast
Balanced on the tip of no return
Hope falls heavily to the side of silence,
Irrationality persuades the mind
To now just save the breath,
Use final energy to rebound fear
Summon a last act of courage,
Find peace in the unknown
And walk closer to death.

Star Gazing

I won’t believe in heaven
Though I believe in Hell
The only thing that keeps the madness away.
My mind is open
To any misinterpretation
A haven for Demons to play

Once I was born
The personality imprint
Became damned and tainted.
Face a blank canvas
An expression of confusion
With a scream half drawn and painted.

Followed the crowd
Of youth and pollution
A gang formed by the easily led.
Convinced by the voices
That while I’m alive
My thoughts are better unsaid.

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.

Shadow Self

Shadow Self

Looking forward to the weekend
Drinking and socializing with mates
Half excited, half wrenching
In case the conversation turns to dates,
Of more nights or future holidays
Things on the spot I agree to
Pit of my stomach is yearning
I will avoid each one, and I do!
Talk of glory days I’ve missed
In the crowd but still alone
Detached, looking down from above
Lies and guilt, I could never atone,

But they’re a good bunch of friends
Initially I’m always included
In my head yes, no, yes, no
The reality, I feel excluded,
Listening out for the question
Waiting to be asked
Just for it to be over
For them it’s just a task,
An unspoken air of formality
Asking and I say yes
The elephant in the room is reality
Knowing I will let them down by text,

Not real great times, always on edge
But that was as good as it got,
They still think I’m some kind of ledge
But I know I’m not,
What I’d felt back then, wasn’t really me
I kinda knew, but today I know
And if I could live those days again,
I’d just go along with the normal flow,
Past is gone now, no time for regrets
Looking back I feel kind of blessed,
Because they’re a good bunch of friends
And my issues? No-one could have guessed.

Copyright Chanty 2013

Reflection

Avoid all, still not missed
Replays of friends who still exist
Thoughts cloudy of partners kissed
Many reunions, not on list
A ghost alive in this time
Head an alarm, heart a chime
Mortality clouds an open head
Life be easier without dread
Flashbacks penetrate, hard sharp funnel
Retreating briefly, a deafly tunnel

Boredom, no loneliness
Bordering mad, bordering mess
Panic rises, need more haste
Blood spilled, leaves bad taste
Cut on skin, scrape on mind
A bloody favour, being kind

Impulse brings clammy splatters
Wall, floor, neither matters
Ceramic sink tainted red
Shallow cut, far from dead
Choice made, closer to life
Drop blade, clean stained knife
Fighting with each shallow breath
Retreat from the near bitter death

Admit faltering defeat, move from shock to motion
Fallout with breaths, wash scars with rain
Expect the time that will define the future,
Of being able to face the mirror image again.