R N Tolliday

R N Tolliday Jan 24

The future is bleak,
I’m sick and starting to see,
This room beyond my feet;
Anchored here, as I’m fighting disease.

Most days I just don’t care,
About this world we try to save…
I know there’s still my fear;
I know there’s some island to roam,
And it’s called my home.

This bird will fly away, away,
When there is naught to play.
Past the sun, across this sea,
Finding its home inside my dream.
Don’t ask it when; it stop and stares.
It destined, oh no…
Don’t ask it when, its been playing this whole day
And don’t ask it for plans, for it’s a little hard.

‘Day’s the day,
I’ll spread my wings and fly so far away.
Past my reason why;
It’s just my fear of flight
Just my fears…

And don’t ask it for plans, oh no…
For it, it’s a little bit more than hard.

R N Tolliday Jan 24

The girl with the eyes

The dark ocean flows over her scratched and calloused feet,
As she faces the black horizon: far from what I've seen.
But what she sees are the stars, and a distant ferry catching light;
The silver traces, all around us, will bring her solace for the evening's plight.

Calming: the aqua at her feet... but also the black liquid in one hand—
Of which poisons her knowingly; at times it's cruelty from a rich white man.
But the 'baby needs her bottle', she'd say; sleep would ask for 'zero *****'.
Normal is this: her lines drawn in the sand, of change, ebbed away by the flux.

The woman works hard, through traumas, to provide a life for she and her son,
And it's clear—to me, that life ******* her, in many more ways than one.
Abused by the very worst, and she's never experienced a 'home', she'd cry,
Whilst drunk inside her enabler's one, of which her rent's paid at some point in time.

But she's a 'normal' person: her good heart, art dreams, and brains led her to be seen,
And now, I know it would break me if she were one day swallowed by the sea.
Despite our bond's submergence, by hidden rocks, its specialness I'll keep in heart;
And those promises I've made, I'll follow, no matter how far we go apart...

I'll always be there for her, if ever sought for in a time of need.
There's a place to roost if ever she travels, most of which's perks are free.
I'll be a fully-fledged counsellor, helping those, like her, find their feet.
Lastly—of myself—I'll continue writing, for the joy and love it brings is deep.

#love #purpose #poverty #addiction #friendship

R N Tolliday Nov 2023

Coastal highway

To the sound, of his music;
When it plays, my heart goes quiet.
Someday, I’ll spread my wings and kick through this door;
As far as that.

But, don't you feel this emotion of dread, though?
When you follow it.
It's turning me, 'round again, and I'm back to where I'd just started:
Wondering, what I am.

Well, say it's been a while, since I've been this way.
About each choice I can make, but the stress never ends.
Well, say it's been some time, since I've had this thing inside of me,
That there's just not enough time...

…to chase all of my dreams.
That there's a special need in me.
That there's a place I should be, rather than here…
And it's always calling me...

#purpose

R N Tolliday Aug 2023

The girl with pink hair

Beyond some window’s reflection,
Sits the girl with pink hair and kitten nails,
Who’s a woman wearing a well-laid suit, with her advancing high-brow-ness,
And I wonder, if this was a long time ago,
What I would miss

I’m grateful for meeting someone like this.
Typed so on the phone; waited with fair embarrassment.
Did she value a boy with ideals, who talked?
Stumbled words and sayings, but tried; like she.
Kindness led our overarching efforts to establish a connection.
We laughed, spoke quite serious; it went hand in hand.
Rewarded with her prettier smile on many-a-occasion…
Said she was different, more calmed around me—less ’socialite’!
But maybe that’s ‘cause I'd been nervous.
Opaque eyes made any mental connection hard.
We were different people; oh well.
Had believed she wasted her time, but then she finally replied,
She had a lovely night, which made her lovingly smile.

So, will I miss the time I walked in the door?
Seeing her sitting;
I turned from its glass back handsomely with a smile,
For the woman with the pink hair, and kitten nails,
Her head well *******-on, and heart kind, patient, good—perfect.
Multiply rich but opaque; I had a chance (albeit slim).
But anyway, such is an experience that can be cherished,
And, for she, be held some places in my life thereafter;
And will, ‘cause I’m the sentimental kind.
That doesn't let anything die.

#love #sadness #nostalgia

R N Tolliday Mar 2022

The One

You won’t know her from a picture, and some words underneath,
Or from a glance at a supermarket, or two, or four.
To really know, most people spend their time on hairline chances,
And I assume, some people think it’s worth just letting go.
That life’s not like how it is in stories; ones I've cherished.
But stories that were once worth telling.

For me, she has to do something,
Or vice versa: I have to do something:
An action says a lot about one’s heart.
So, I'll do things with love.
Stick down this path, that's meaningful.
And the one soul,
Of the few who’ve stayed in my life,
Will be the one,
And forever she’ll have my faith.

#love #relationship

R N Tolliday Mar 2022

A tiny step

In making up for lost time,
Towards my dream, years-long,
Of many New Year's–gone resolutions,
I've made only a tiny step, in comparison to others,
But a step forward, nonetheless.

'Cause I had to breathe, and I've been unfolding into many, newer, earthier paths.
I've had my struggles, of consistent lengths, and had to clear those dark clouds.
Today I stand on firmer ground.
Grounds that I want firm for everyone.

The mountain of my book is very tall and long,
But no matter it, nor the length of my stride: I'm moving forward again.
Towards those things I love the most, and of which, their end isn’t certain.

#purpose #passion

R N Tolliday Oct 2021

Room 501 (by Yoshikazu Takahashi)

My room is at the end of this corridor…
There are a lot of things in my room…
But my room key is missing,
I don’t know know where it is…
I don’t know…

When I entered my room alone.

My room is at the end of this corridor…
There are a lot of things in my room…
But my room key is missing,
I don’t know know where it is…
I don’t know…

When I entered my room alone.

It is the best, to break through the door!

A song by bluebeard.

Bluebeard was a Japanese emotional rock band, active around the early 2000s. The band's music had a likeness to the emotional rock scene happening in the States: Sunny Day Real Estate, Mineral, Texas is the Reason, etc, and bluebeard carved out an identity for themselves in the indie music scene in Tokyo. (Emotional Rock, or emo rock, is the same genre as the more popular American Football.) In a rare interview, it became known that bluebeard intended for their music to be at the same level as the bands of their influence, and worked hard to do so, so they could be enjoyed by a wider audience, including the States.

Their genius showed: in 2015 the band had a year-long reunion, much like American Football and Mineral at that time, and ended for packed venue(s). Just like American Football, the band had only released one full length album.

Yoshikazu Takahashi is one of the brains behind the music of bluebeard, and he is the voice behind the lyrics. Snow, was written about the singer songwriter's loneliness he experienced at adolescence. At writing it, he was likely around the age of 20.

If you're talking about the great emotional rock bands that make up that era: listen to Bluebeard, who saw the scene as it was happening in the States, and emulated what they heard and saw with soul and unique vision. The truth behind their lyrics, the genius of their music's composition, the mentor influences from British punk bands who Yoshikazu idolised (and likely others), and Yoshikazu's own soulful, renegade voice: bluebeard bleeds that era of emotional rock.

#loneliness #belonging