You see, the water does all the things it’s meant to.
It does everything and nothing
It goes everywhere and nowhere.

Its essence is dichotomies and dualities
The shores line its gentle brutality
Infinite and dangerous - an endless finality
Sometimes still – a lifeless vitality.

The wind can push it
The earth can shake it
To understand this paradox is a risk –
Don’t take it.

A stagnant mind will see you drowned.
Producing these lines, but not a sound.
Words to be written but not to be spoken.
These are the words my soul has chosen.

Splinters, blisters.
Losers, winners.
Saints and sinners.
"Come in for dinner" s

It's where we learned to socialise.
Our very own sovereign land
zero politics
and conflicts always solved
hand to hand.

Loud junctions juxtaposed
against our little corner of paradise
motorists peering in when they stop at that red light.

Ringing on doorbells, buzzing on intercoms
The anticipation
to hear whether your friend was home or not.

Colourblind kids with the most vivid sight.
Retrieving footballs under parked cars
was the extent of our plights.

I didn't know where the world would take us
or the type of people it would make us,
but something I learned from a young age
is that the rest of the world isn't like
Gooseacre.

A moment of clarity
Stifled creativity plaguing my sanity.

Negativity’s rhyme scheme
Always alters the atmosphere.
Writer’s block obscures a slighted right hemisphere.

The brain’s left side is logical, factual
The right side intuitive and creative,
My brain marches - left, right, left, right
All over ink stains and blank spaces.

Navigating these ruts requires emotional dexterity
and my creative muscles have been stiff
So, it’s difficult to write with sincerity.

I can’t just churn it out while I’m burning out
Maybe I should try, I can be quite cynical
Not all creative blocks are easy to lift
Mine weighs one hundred and seventy odd syllables.

Where anger and grief learn to handle their frustrations
Where your mind sits down and tends to complications…

Where truth and lies stand on equal footing
Where ambitions and doubts do their pulling and pushing

Silence is…
Chaos and calm
Spiritual balm.
The abyss where you can find both,
healing
and harm.

Intertwining souls
Immaterial and immature
Navigating each other’s boundaries,
coasts and shores.

Redefining what’s commonly referred to as
‘Love’
Requiring understanding and flexibility
Requiring both strength and vulnerability.

Weakness is courage,
when teetering the tightrope
of romantic and platonic.
Insecurity and traumas,
also balance on it.
If and when you fall off,
it is into the chasm.
where balance is no longer required
and perfection is no longer desired.

The fear of letting go.
to tie up loose ends.
The irony of falling,
In a bid to ascend…

Nostalgia.
A chance to live it again.
To remember it differently.
More fondly.
A re-arrival.
At a place once overlooked
A reappreciation of life.

Nostalgia, is what we yearn  for
moving forward, but looking back.
Striving to recreate a feeling
our present selves may lack.

An inception of missed moments and
lost focus.
Nostalgia is that bridged gap.

Nostalgia is all versions of ourselves
Indulging in those split second, missed seconds.
Sitting in the audience calling for an encore
a sign that we have found
that bliss we search for.

In fact,
it was found it a long time ago.
Nostalgia told me so.

Is it God or my narcissism
constantly chipping away at my psyche?
Is it God or my narcissism
forever dictating my wrongs and rights?

Am I religious or just conceited?
The question pesters me.
Quite frankly my mind is just depleted.