Acceptance, the catalyst for healing,
When you accept it's value

Words and lines flowed into my mind last night,
On the precipice of sleep, delirium tremens in full flight,
The sweats, the wicked dreams and the ****** paranoia,
******* the heels of the previous night’s dreamless collapse,
Holding onto a sliver of reality as the impending dawn slams my head into the pillow.
Again and again, sleep, wake, sleep if you dare and awaken.
The beloved, accursed alcoholic frolic is taking its revenge.
A killing curse hurled at me from a mystery on horseback,
My heartbeat lost its rhythm at the edge of my sanity.
Then the unforgiving morning comes after a fitful, broken rest,
Fleeting memories of Epic, guilty ballads of Kings and sinners,
Of beautiful prose and perfect rhymes.
All lost to me, and the world because of my horrible, loving vice.

I don't want to be strong today
I want to be weak
I don't want to stay positive today
I want to cry
I don't want to talk today
I want to punch
I don't want to be kind today
I want to wallow
I don't want to write today
I want to hug

The tornado in my core is spinning me around,
The absence of variety is bringing me down.
The pills, the therapy, the truth isn’t nice,
My torture, unable to take my own advice.
Keep making the same mistakes, time and again.
Deepening the ever expanding stain.
Confusing my beloved with apathy and moods,
Desertion or abandonment, I think I wish she would.
Once more on edge, all good thoughts set sail
Taunting me, baiting me, wanting me to fail.
Against a backdrop of mindless roiling black cloud,
Surely pain like this isn’t allowed?
Always a roundabout, never the swings.
And then today, the tornado wins.

Horror and torment around every corner,
Love & compassion in the shadows,
Empathy a screamingly silent partner,
Begging for release.
Crocodile tears against a gathering of flowers,
Teddy in a football shirt, imploring why?
Was a decision made?
Or were fifty-seven lives caught in the same tornado?
They can be seen now, scattered all over the blood soaked street.
Stunned at the act, emptied by the loss.
Of another one, gone before life had really begun.

The finger points up at the stars,
And oftentimes the moon.
The finger wags in admonishment,
And beckons lovers to croon.
The finger points in the face of anger,
And soothes the hurts and burns.
The finger extends from the reapers sleeve,
And draws his clan to mourn.
Don't give the finger too much regard,
It will point at you, in turn.

My mood is so low, I appeared on downdetector's site

He said, she said.
He lied, she cried.
But!
Then he cried because she lied.
Too many hard questions with no good answers.
But!
In the eye of the storm it's all blown away.
You can't shake hands with gloves on.

Is thought tangible?
Can I pass mine on without committing to paper?
Can I have yours?
Can you see in my eyes I’m broken?
Do you accept I can be fixed?
Will you discard me like a difficult crossword?
Will you complete me?
Will you still love me when this all comes to light?
Will you still love me if I stay in the dark?
Am I beyond repair?
Do I need repair?
Will you fix me?
Can I go on like this?
Will you accept it all?
Or will you pick the things you like & discard the rest?
I’m not lost, I just don’t know where I am.
;

When you saw me sit with my head in my hands,
When you saw me unshaven and shabbily dressed,
When you saw the smile, that rigid liar's smile,
When you saw me cry, and then laugh on point,
When you saw me suffer in silence,
Did you feel anything? Or see anything at all?
I see it all, feel it all, torture myself with it all.
One kind word or that one question,
Would have changed my life, and maybe would have saved me.
Ask.
Please?

I feel the crush of whimsical loss,
A torrent of torment flays my soul,
The gravity of attachment pains my hands
Walking through fire-swept brush, I feel nothing.
My heart feels it all, every lance, every sin.
Keep the clown smiling within,
The empathetic attach to my broken frail corpse.
High on a cloud wishing I was still of substance,
Wishing someone had just asked me,
To just accept my malady of the mind,
As a quirk and not the sum of me.

What cost these dark days?
What cost these lamenting episodes?
What cost the hours worrying and waiting?
What cost the time spent under covers?

What value the sun?
What value family?
What value in a friend?
What value in love?

Sunshine is free.
Time is relative.
Friends are priceless.
The right Love is eternal.

With your last breath, you focused all your will and then,

You took the knife out of your heart and impaled my soul.

Welcome to the futile death of our love.

Voices are screaming,
Heart is hammering,
Skin is sweating,
Lips are trembling,
Limbs are aching with phantom pain,
I think my brain tumour is back again.
Is that the DT’s?
Or is it disease?
Won’t someone listen? Please? Please?
Priceless things, those good friends’ ears.
Wish I’d known that over the years.
Bottled up and seeping out,
Feel the venom while I shout.
Poisoned by my own reticence,
Maybe I need another penance?
Forgiving myself for all the guilt,
Making myself accept the trip.
Relief is temporary, pain is real
I bet you can’t tell what I feel.
Guilt, shame, fear and doubt.
That’s what my poor life was about.
But no more! Says I,
I’d rather die.
Than give in to it, or sit, and sigh.
And now I learn I’m allowed to cry.

You should have punched me, it would have hurt less.
You should have left me, I’d have got over it.
You should let me breathe, instead you suffocate.
You should have trusted me, before the love turned to distaste.

All I know, unknown
All I learned, unlearned
All I believed in, doubted

Fairness is just an empty word
Karma is just a notion
Consequences are relative

Life is life
Make of it or don’t.
Lay your own path

Just don’t ask the poets
They know as much
The Mystery is the reward

"The Anniversary" is approaching way way too fast,
Almost a year since...
Eleven months of "getting on with it, you know?"
Eleven months of "what do you do?"
Eleven months of "Mum's fine, thanks."
Eleven months of "I miss him every day."
When the next anniversary rolls around,
Will I still be writing?
Is this really catharsis?

Is there an end to the questions?

Will I bring you dying flowers?

You want me to court you,
You want me to wine n dine you
You want me to love your kids
You want your Mum to like me

But you still want dying flowers?

I want you to hold my hand
I want you to walk in the grass barefoot
I want you to sing to empty rooms
Dance.

I’m not bringing you dying flowers

I want to give you seeds
I want you to water them
I want you to love something
That isn’t person or animal

There are no worse cuts than cutting through life that isn’t your own

That simple fleeting touch of skin on skin,
Heaven itself

I’m the boy with the quick replies,
I’m the man who’s dead inside.
I’m the boy with the broken tooth,
I’d better learn to shut my mouth.
I’m the lad with the bright red hair,
Getting beat down seems to be fair.
I’m the guy with the biggest fists,
That’s from my Dad, he doesn’t miss.
I’m the guy with the wolfish smile,
From my hooded eyes you should run a mile.
I’m the boy with the nervous stammer,
Such a shake, can’t lift my hammer.
I’m the boy with the pen in hand,
Still trying to learn to be a man.
I’m the man whose cup runneth over,
You stay back there, my former lover.
I’m the man who stands on tables,
She was the woman who wasn’t able.
I’m the old man sitting alone,
No one ever rings my phone.
I’m the boy who should’ve listened.
I’m also the man who’s never missed.
Feed my body and not my mind,
See the shell that’s left behind.

I dreamed of fire, then of ice.
I dreamed the dull blade hack and slice.
I saw a Mother’s face, tears overspilling.
Pleading for heart’s peace, never stilling.
I saw a Father’s disapproval, seemed uncaring.
I know he feels much more, he’s just not sharing.
Heads and hearts are full of strife,
This one’s suffering is not by knife.
Sons' and daughters' lives in full flow,
The dead passed on and rest below.
Old age and pain abated by the joy
Of grandkids at play, new girls and boys.
Suffering is real, understanding is relative,
Thought and memory are the only derivative.
No end in sight, but this life’s not long,
Neither is it only for the strong.
So if you’re feeling weak and tired,
Sit by me, I’ve lit the fire.

I left before I left.
I just didn't know then.

Words, words, too many words.
Smashing inside, trapped and bound,
Screaming at me to let them out.
Picking the wrong target,
Releasing the wrong ones.
Creating a mess of pain and hurt.
So I shut them in again,
Suffer them myself again.
Talk less, think more.
Love less, lose more.

Once again, walking life’s tightrope,
What’s keeping me up here?
Is it love? Is it hope?

How many things can karma throw at me?
How many more rounds before the ref steps in?
Gives me a ten count. TKO?

Keep putting one foot in front of the other,
It’s not the height that worries me,
*It’s the fall over the one I won’t see coming.

Enough romantic poetic questions.
This is the time for answers.

I did that thing,
It was in my letter.
I said that stuff,
It’s all in my letter.
But,
You didn’t help me,
That is in the letter.
You didn’t listen,
That is in the letter.
But,
I didn’t cry,
That isn't in the letter.
I didn’t talk,
That isn't in the letter.

I took my glasses off to see clearer.
No dice.

Strength,
the ability to endure
what we hate
without complaint

I must get up and take my pills
But I have to dress and go downstairs.
This is a bed day. A head day.

I must get up and eat something
But I haven’t the strength today
I haven’t the will today.

My get up and go got off at the last stop.
I didn’t let it go,
Wasn’t my choice.

This thing’s in control of my every fibre
Head pounding, stomach on fire
But I’m healthy in body not in mind.
A simple decision is taking an hour

This pain in my head,
Keeping me indoors instead.
Invading my dreams,
Brain bursting at the seams.

Focus on one thing,
No, not that sting.
Now I feel I could sing,
Look at my wedding ring.

So lucky to have found a wife,
Amazing she chose to stay in my life.
All the cross-words and strife,
That time I picked up the knife…

Wish I’d stayed in bed
Wish I’d no sore head.
Think I’ll have tea,
Will she make it for me?

I can’t decide today
Do I ask her to stay?
Make them all go away,
This pain is here to stay.

Life by numbers,
One for blue… Two for red
Thoughtlessness for its sake
Sympathy but no sign of empathy

Bleakness looking out of intelligent eyes.
Waste of a body,
Waste of skin,
Waste.

Carelessness in your heart,
Makes sadness abound.
A tear in the corner of the unsmiling eye,
That tear’s for me.

I can’t!
Did you try?
I won’t!
That’s better.
I lied.
I know.

Chin lifted off chest this morning,
You only saw the top of my head for weeks.
But I have no apologies, only truths.
Can you handle the truth of it?
Want to climb in here with me for a day?
No?
OK, all is fine. No problems here.
I’ll keep smiling and you keep not caring.
No expectations, no disappointments.
No questions, no lies.
Cry when it’s too late for tears.

Monday morning isn’t blue, it’s white.
The little white pill on my desk,
Mocking me; take me, spit me out, who cares.
My senses are dull, my thoughts slow,
This is before the pill kicks in.
Miserable existence, but not the end.
We fight on, this is just imbalance,
It’ll pass, support is there.
If I ever learn how to ask.

Don’t lie
Don’t cheat
Don’t cry
Or no treats.

Every action rewarded by belt or praise.
Which is right?

Too much praise or too little belt?

As I turn this off and hide it from view,
The last person I want to hear from is you.
You’ve lied and cheated and let me down,
You’ve stolen my things again and again.

Don’t bother coming back, we don’t need you,
Take your lies and see now who really wants you.
Maybe the one from the back of the car?
Maybe the other you met in that bar?

Definitely not me, my time and my life,
I’m sure you’ll make another feel the strife.
You’ve had all your chances and burnt all bridges,
Go back under that rock, hide away and forget us.

I find beauty in many places,
Seldom in others’ faces.

Why does my poetry ****,
When life is good? Luck?

Your tongue cut me,
The exit broke me,
I’m smiling hard,
Trying not to is harder.

New flat, new clothes,
Same mood, same toes.
I know that I’m looking at my feet!
Everyone knows I can’t face the street.

The pity party has started.
Marriage vows discarded.
Moving on is great
If you’re the one moving.

I wonder why?
Did we even try?
To fix the hole before it got that big.

A super massive black dog hole.
Big enough to drown in,
Big enough to frown in.
Far too big to live in.

The one thing I know for sure is,
These cuts are not going to heal at all,
If I don’t stop scratchin’

I’d  never  have  thought  I'd  stray  before,  

But  that  was ­ before  she  moved  in  next  door.  

Those  passing  hellos  a­nd  smiles  for  my  wife,  

The  winks  and  glimpses  that  ru­ined  my  life.  

Who’d  have  known  that  little  old  me,  

­Would  swap  his  Toyota  for  a  nice  M-three!