Hush

I need room,

My brain rattles my skull with white noise,

Basket case conversations, wastepaper words,

I’m tangled in a creative knot,

Trying to unravel, unwind,

My days used to have a beginning and an end,

Now I can’t recognise either,

The markers for awake and sleep keep shifting,

Weeks bleed into each other around here.

 

I’m tethered to this Wi-Fi lifeline seven long days a week,

It offers me life signs from cyberspace,

Where everyone has their finger on the pulse,

Checking they’re still alive,

It makes my head hurt, and destroys my vision,

Inward and outward,

Still, I’m hooked like a hungry fish,

The continues to be surprised at being reeled in,

Time and time again.

 

I need hush,

Shush,

Silence,

Nothing.

 

I need nothing at all; to inspire me,

Switch off, disconnect,

Breathe and reflect on nothing,

A deep concentration of nothing,

I drift out into a sea of nothingness,

Until I am nothing, going nowhere, thinking nothing,

Until something comes along out of the blue and stops me,

From drowning in the wonderful joy of absolutely nothing.

 

Something worth living for,

Something that reminds me I’m alive,

Something that makes me smile,

Something to unravel me.

 

Like those days when we laughed and danced,

Campfires and guitars,

Those nights when we talked till we lost track of time,

Like those years when everything filled our eyes with wonder,

Hopscotch and skipping ropes,

Ice-cream and bubble-gum,

Discos and celebrations,

Family, friends-

When the human touch meant something.

 

Shush,

Hush,

Silence,

Let me remember you.

 

Waiting in Line

You reach a certain age and you realise,

We are all just waiting in line,

Watching people die,

Waiting for our number to be called,

The only certainty we have about life,

Is that life is a death sentence,

So, enjoy it while it lasts.

 

We dream,

As we pace about our waiting rooms,

Of perfect lives, perfect bodies,

Nice house and garden,

The perfect love story,

We work, in varying capacities,

To achieve great things,

Weighing ourselves against the competition,

Comparing notes.

 

We get by,

Shuffling our feet, slouching in front of TV Sets,

That feed us dreams and bullshit,

We buy the bullshit-

Hopeful of success but clueless on what it takes,

Mortality creeps up on us,

As we sleepwalk,

Carelessly stumbling on addictions, habits, and greed,

We dance across the tightrope of time,

As though immune to danger.

What a waste,

To spend a lifetime finding our balance,

To slip, fall and find no safety net beneath us,

What a tragic shame,

We don’t love each other enough,

To show respect, understanding, and kindness,

Don’t appreciate each other,

Don’t care until it’s over.

 

We turn a blind eye until all hope is gone,

Wake up suddenly regretful, feeling sorry for ‘ourselves’,

Tears are reserved for the living, my friend,

You were born to ‘feel’.
You’ll reach a certain age and realise.

 

Cracked Paint

Cracks in the paintwork will show,

No matter how many times you gloss over memories,

The rough grain of turbulent thoughts,

Will never be smooth,

You’ll feel the splinters penetrate your skin,

Your nerves raw, as your mind fragile,

No matter how many times you redecorate the room,

You’ll conclude that old woodchip wallpaper will simply have to remain,

Stuck fast to the plaster, beneath the new.

 

Your mistakes, regrets, and resolutions,

Follow you,

All your doing and undoing,

Will undo you,

For better or worse,

Fractures in the sky will appear,

Sunlight will shine in,

Rain will soak you to the bone and,

The cracks in the paintwork will grow,

Like vines of ivy on abandoned buildings.

 

Where nature reclaims her own,

Your character takes on new meaning,

You survive, you thrive,

Through it all,

Some flakes of paint,

May crumble and fall away,

Let them fall,

It’s the cracks in the paintwork,

-That make you.