Tag: mental Health

Ghosts Upon A Stage

Around them lie the feasts of Christmas
like ghosts upon a stage,
beyond the hand of the huddled listless,
displaced and disengaged.
About them and without them, their society
rises to toast the day,
preening and shining their lives brightly,
like shiny children at play.
People of a lower world descend to mire,
the table of the least,
absent the outrageously glittering choir
of the lavishly bloated feast.
Collection of the fallen, lesser chosen-ones,
seeking scant deliverance,
raw and painful hunger in their frozen bones,
are treated with indifference.
They're fading beneath the bejewelled lights
like ghosts upon a stage,
with nothing beyond their Noel midnights
but the bars of an absent cage.

Journey’s End

I don’t know where I’m going,
I just know I’m arriving there soon.
I feel the journey all over my bones
While I’m whistling a familiar tune.

Some of these days are forever,
And some days are yesterday’s news,
Like a barefoot stroll in the sunshine
Or like wearing an old pair of shoes.

I’m going, I’m coming, I’ve lost it,
Like a shit, Friday night juggling act.
Stand clear, stand fast, but stand by me
My bullshit’s about to be unpacked.

Revivified

Where then, was our yesterday
when today came to call,
tomorrow sat on its shoulder,
the writing on the wall?
Where was the rippled awe
of another magical dawn,
which was tied to the desolation
of a time so crudely drawn?
Somewhere maybe a hopeful rose
may gently start to bloom
determined to again rise up above
the pale cultivated gloom.
A day of soft and boring norm,
dreaming of the next day
to feel the joy of a summer morn
living love and life at play.

Mind Games

Where can I lay my tired head
Before the sick machine breaks
The gears inside may be whirring
But, such a beating it takes.
A little still less is holding hard,
A little less to take home to Ma
The trail of juice descends to me
Following me obediently to the bar.
My box is ready, my shit is packed,
My machine is straddling the limit.
My ending calls as my mercury falls
If this is my precipice, I’m on it.

Strength

I wish I was much stronger
With a never ending will
Where possibilities abound
Without a happy pill
But I’m just fucking not
I’m an easy broken mess
If a glass is holding water
Well, take a fucking guess.
I need a drink to make it
Through an average day
And once the bottle empties
There’s another on its way.
So leave me to myself
I know this, it’s my ‘thing’
It’s just my fucking life, and
Here, I’m the fucking King.

Someday a Rainbow

With all the ways we welcome the days
beautiful moments in beautiful ways
we feel ourselves in a descending spiral,
wishing an end and dreading arrival.
Adrift of the normal sweep of the day
like falling or climbing or drifting away.
The light of life never illuminates the lost
behind a line in life, that they’ve secretly crossed.
From life’s great journey to a screeching slide
of pain and exhaustion reaching inside,
destroying will, even in midst of wonder,
such, above the line, resembles under,
‘til release does arrive like a favourite son
and the end of it all is a kindness done

Happy Place

From beneath the waves
The sky looks identical
As a sky, back when life played the game.
The lick of bright sun
The touch of the blue
Back in the days before pain knew my name.

Now I make the most it all
Swimming beneath it all
Special friends helping me survive and rewire
The sky is the same
But the vista is changed
Special friends pulling me away from the fire