Writing poetry–it got me out of my head where I was imprisoned for a while. It let me focus on what matters in my life…without this group, I would have been a prisoner to my mind.
I AM STILL HERE
Sometimes I find it difficult from under my mask.
To let people know I’m open and up for a laugh. My face all contorted with this ridiculous task.
I want people to know I’m trying to smile. Sometimes I need absence to escape for a while. To gather my thoughts, to pause and reflect. To try to make purpose of the whole damn mess.
Only to be drawn to anxiety and stress. A state of affairs I do detest.
So with a polite feck off I voice my protest, if only for a moment I feel a heaviness leave my chest.
Draw deep on this refreshing breath. Its a hard ask to raise a smile from behind a mask.
When I look in the mirror I see a figure of hate. The same old face I wish to obliterate. All the hurt and the pain from a life of rejection. Shows up clear in my reflection. Deep into my eyes, memories deliver. Along my spine, they do shiver. Forever shown a man betrayed. Oh how I wish these battle scars would fade.
Oh why must you taunt me old murderous thought. Bitter sweet release of adrenaline you sought. Calm you beast that inhibits my chest. Leave me be still my mind screams for rest. You find old emotions feasting on my pain. Your constant mocking echoes again and again. If only silence let peace begin. Eradicate your torment with the swipe of my pen. A little trick learnt while confined to a cell.
How the beauty in a poem can free one from hell.
When all natural intelligence has been smothered. When you’re no longer capable of independent critical thinking. When your natural gifts, talents and raw skill have been rendered into doubt. When you are capable of memorising only when you have been told your curious nature and desire to discover the wonders of the universe, the depths of the sea is subdued. When you lose the ability to question. When you no longer have the capacity for logical resonated debate. When intuitive thinking and foresight has been put on hold. When you are only as intelligent as you have been informed of. When you fear to speak out loud in case you are ridiculed. When you are no longer the you that you once were. When you have been put into the designated box and the lid shut tightly. When your character has been defined and your future pre ordained. When you have been programmed with limited capabilities. When you have been educated to such a degree moulded into a form that others denied upon. When you are set on a path not of your choosing. Then you might just make it to the top of your class …
I remember and never will I forget the child who first went to junior school and rebelled against that which was meant to be imposed upon him. Instead of drawing out what was within the child, feeding and nurturing the natural abilities so that they shall grow and flourish into the person they were meant to be. It was a draconian regime built upon strict adherence to the prescribed educational formula backed up by the harsh discipline and the liberal application of corporal punishment. It didn’t have the desired effect as the child never lost the beautiful mind that accompanied him in his first and last day of school …
IT’S A HARD LIFE
It’s a hard life which we live,
Cried the single mother with the hungry kids.
The week is only starting and I’m broke from the week before,
I dread every footstep and strange knock on the door.
I really love my children, I never meant to be poor.
Asking the Lord will it ever be bright?
This hungry living, it just ain’t right.
But I will go without so the kids will eat,
I’ve endured hardships known only to the streets.
It’s not easy building a home,
When the sidewalk is your kitchen and bedroom.
I can’t afford to keep my own mouth …
It’s a hard life I do live –
Cried the single mother and her hungry kids.