In truth, let the words simply be words,
For they are a poor medium to express my mind,
To shine light upon the things that have dwelled in darkness.
They try, and they try their best,
But in the end, discerning meaning through the fog of war,
Is surely no simple achievement.
Words – huddled,
And muddled too.
Lines and lines, without commas to break.
Each syllable felt, each intention taken.
Oh, please forgive the occasional misinterpretation.
Watching fleeting images of self-doubt,
Listening to the confusing lyrics of orderless orientation;
Haphazard in what is thrown, and what is devoured.
And yet, it’s nothing but home…
Tell me, and tell me straight-
Straight faced, based in all truth, without hesitation.
And, promise me you’ll try…
To pass on the singularity of blinding night,
Always climbing from the relentless abyss,
The scourge of extra-terrestrial bottom feeders.
Sure, things will pass,
And things will fade – life in all ways.
But let this be real, and let yourself feel;
Unhindered and without a morsel of regret.
In a life so apparently bleak.
A world so cold.
Both hands are held, balanced, equally as giving.
Resting on shoulders, closing weary eyes.
Let it all flow…
Let it all be unhinged, relieved of all burden…
Some time ago… I would say two years… or maybe three, I’m not so certain. I listened to this song religiously. I’m not entirely sure why. K-pop definitely isn’t the kind of music I listen to on a regular basis. It isn’t even the kind of music I particularly enjoy at all… And, I suppose I can say the same for many of you who might read this.
So, a little context, right? Well, back then I was in something of a pickle. Alright, that’s an understatment, I was completely fucked. The depression was at its worst. I couldn’t get through a minute without questioning everything, without questioning life itself. Looking back, sure, it could have been worse, much worse. But in the heat of the passing moments, you don’t think about that. The mind is selfish, and when in such a state, nothing mattered beyond myself.Read More »
Whilst the days moan and the fickle moon wanes,
All across the barren, wasted, sun-dried grasslands.
Dire need for water, and dire need for strength.
Clinging, grasping, relying until we touch our dream.
Hold me near, hand locked within hand.
And believe me, nothing comes close to you beneath the sun.
Our lips are cracked, and our minds clouded,
Yet, we persevere –
In search of rivers, and where the trees rise from the land.
From some distant kingdom, the fresh breeze blows,
Reminding, that youth and readiness both come and go.
For what of that smooth skin, and that relentless drive.
Manifesting, in private thoughts, passions alike;
Burning, and coming alive, with soulless strife.
Countless nights are challenged, moonlight raining down.
Body heat, it’s our lifeline.
Trying to keep eyes closed amidst the howls and the hoots.
Trying to remain civil where there is no room for error.
Though, through such adversity, pierces hope;
A hope we carry on every part of our thin bodies.
One we use as a brace,
Imbuing us with the effort to be driven on,
To take that next step onto the same dry grass.
For one day, we will witness green.
How many days must pass until the truth is revealed? I know and they know too, that life, and living, well… there’s no standard, and no true way. For one slips into the next, and the next into its neighbours. All that ever was, is, and all that will be… that’s something else entirely. Pondering questions of the future, and what that future has in store. Maybe a remedy, maybe something that reveals all there is to see and know. For we are young, living the passion of youth. A careless melody, starved in a crusade for truth. Lies they run our commons, biting and bruising all that we leave in the light of day. And we feel all under the light of the moon, the dusk, and the shortening of days. Because, in the end, we are all that we are…
I ask myself this question more than once a day… why do I do it, why did I ever
start doing it?
It might seem like a relatively simple question to answer… surely I must have a clear reason behind doing one thing each and every day, habitually. But… no, I don’t. Of course, I love doing it, and any person who writes for themselves – for the love of doing it – will tell you that. I’m sure there is a deeper meaning in there somewhere, something intrinsic, woven into my being. But maybe it’s one of those things that are never meant to be found – they just exist, and we don’t question that existence, we needn’t, for it is a part of us.Read More »
Valentines day – or as I like to favourably call it: make-those-who-are-forever-single-feel-inadequate day.
“It’s these cards and the movies and the pop songs, they’re to blame for all lies and the heartache, everything.” -500 Days of Summer (My FAVOURITE film!)
You know, I’m not usually one to rant about these things, well… at least not anywhere but my own head. But, I don’t know. Somehow it all seems so manufactured – dare I use the word ‘commercialised.’ Course, it’s Valentines day. St Valentines day. It has traditional, old roots going back hundreds of years, more than what can be said for most of our Holidays. Still, it somehow manages to feel so insincere, as if all the personality has been sucked from it. An unavoidable necessity, rather than an endearing informality.
I know, I know… there are those to who it means a lot. I understand the intent behind it.