heaven poem peachs almanac

Breathing Purgatory | Poem

Just walking, and groveling.

Well… mumbling, as always;

Habits, they’re sure hard to beat,

Being beaten, being broken – it’s easier;

Letting yourself become broken,

Like a freezer that refuses to freeze –

Pointless! Lifeless! Redundant!

 

Counting down, relentless in spirit.

No doubt, fucked in all certainty.

Lost in the frivolous passing.

Wondering when one might

Stumble upon that revered salvation,

Where dark is light,

And the Underworld – oblivion.

 

Muster in the haze of solitude,

All that fortitude that has no audible voice.

For what is hearing,

If there is nothing to be heard?

For what is living,

If one does not live?

Ha – something of nothing.

Like a ferris-wheel turned on its side;

Revolving… turning – but going nowhere.

 

All These Treasured Things

Listening, no sudden judgement – a receiver,

My mind open, I believe;

Words of utmost transparency.

Don’t be fretful of that which you cannot speak,

 

Life’s tough, arduous – we know that.

Shared. No seclusion, nor segregation.

A voice to paragraph, to feel in kind;

Life, and love, and all that’s between.

 

Sometimes I dream, and sometimes I’m bitterly real.

What can be done, achieved, felt – it’s a sad mystery.

But I ponder… what’s best?

 

Maybe it nullifies disappointment.

Maybe… simply, it’s beyond knowledge;

Knowing, that’s the hardest part – isn’t it always…?

Knowing what to say, and what to leave be;

Misinterpretation – demon dweller of frail words

Creeping ’round the corner, settling in cavernous cracks,

Yell the voices of pain-riddled pasts’.

 

Bathe within the beat of your chest,

The motion of your up and down breath,

Ground it all in reality – tight knot, heavy anchor.

Forge it into stone too heavy to drag behind,

And leave the grey mist,

The ambiguity of mind’s irrationality.

Be free… Live free…

So, let it all begin again.

Thank You – I Mean It!

This, is rather spontaneous, but it’s been on my mind, so why not also write a little on it?


I’ve been writing on here regularly since the beginning of October last year.

What did I think it might be back then? Well… to be honest, I saw it as nothing more than a place for my tumultuous thoughts to reside, a place where they would do no harm. It was the period when I returned home from university after a short week. Things weren’t great, in fact, they were awful. Though, I suppose they could have been far, far worse.

I didn’t know what to do.

I wasn’t sure I could do anything at all, but slumber in my anxiety…

So, I came home, and began writing here. At the beginning, it was simple. There were no goals, no aspirations, no plans. I just needed to know somebody could read what I wrote if they so pleased. I found comfort in that. I still do. Of course I do. I’m humbled by those of you who regularly read what I write. That means a massive amount. I don’t take that for granted.

I got into writing poetry.

I got into writing ‘Tiny Stories.’

I got into so many things.

I’m still getting into them…

This has become a staple part of the life I’m currently living. I don’t know where it’s heading, and I don’t want to know. Not everything I post is polished, and I don’t require it to be. I hope you can see something heartfelt in them, in the poems or stories. Each one of them is a part of me represented with words… of varying qualities. It’s a journey of self-discovery for the most part – if I’m able to say that without sounding pretentious. I don’t know what’s coming tomorrow. What words will arise with the sun, and what anxieties will haunt with the waning of it.

A life where everything is expected would certainly be boring.

It’s enlightening to see and read all your words too, because they are so beautiful, and it would be a shame for them not to be heard. This really is a great community, and now, I’m not sure what I’d do without it. I harbour a deep well of loneliness, and if I’m able to fill even a tiny part of it, that’s more than I could ever ask for. I need that motivation to create, to push myself onwards to deeper waters – to discover things about myself that are required, if not pleasant.

So… Thank You!

 

-Chris ❤

 

Through Tinted Glass

Listening to those songs, remembering those times.

Days of darkness – window staring.

Love remembered…

At least the need for it.

Time passing, willing it to pass all at once.

Head – faster than light,

Body – slower than the ticking of clocks.

Dream like-

Colourless dreams.

Unfeeling, meaningless dreams…

In the waiting, and in the seething,

Telling myself,

We all go through a times of teething.

Darkness in different shades-

Spanning the hours, the waning of the days.

Mumbled sentences, and dead-heavy limbs.

Waking – not really.

Sleeping – not truly.

Lazing in the fuzziness, the dead TV flicker,

The subtle blur that borders every edge.

Peering into a future that’s anything but clear.

Wondering, pondering, thinking-

Anything but believing…

BoA – Some Moons Ago

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 »

Something… Maybe Nothing…

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…

Why I Write…?

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 »