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.

 

Peach’s Almanac – Another Blog!

Hey you lovely people! ❤

Recently I have started a new blog. (don’t worry, I’ll still be posting here, and with as much frequency, this is just extra!)

It’s dedicated to Anime, Essays, Movies, Literature  – you know, pop-culture stuff, reviews and the like. You can do the clickety below and follow if any of that tickles your fancy. I look forward to seeing you there. And for those who aren’t sufficiently tickled. I look forward to seeing you here, as always! 😀

Peach’s Almanac

 

^ I like the clickety!!

 

Thanks, as always.

-Chris ❤

 

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 ❤

 

Tiny Stories – Beside Broken Memories

Beside Broken Memories


It was a chilly day in the depths of winter, made even colder by the mist that rose from the banks of the nearby river. I liked mornings like this, the calmness of them, the even tone that seemed to ruminate through each breeze. Even here in the country, where this was an entirely average January day, there seemed to be something special about it. I saw it in the way the grass held itself, frost clinging to it. And in the way the birds swooped throughout the air, as if it wasn’t there at all. It was almost something you can touch. That elusive force that holds all things together, from the highest reaches of the sky, to the depths of our freezing river. I’m not talking about gravity, or dark matter – nothing like that. But, something less defined, something that doesn’t have numerical values, or written rules to abide by. A malleable effect, constantly changing to the shape of the world. It’s strange that, isn’t it?

“Frederich, here!” I shouted, as Frederich, my little Spaniel launched himself into the freezing water.

He ran over to me, soaking wet, muddy, and panting. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you like water.”Read More »

Diamond Triplet

Tell me those three words people dream of hearing. You know, those infamous ones. The ones that are the foundation of humanity; the ones that have created and shaped the society we live in. People think, and people do. Not speaking. Not eating – life in a cardboard box. Three words; three ephemeral beings floating through the thick sludge of consciousness. Aghast! Ghouls walking the streets we proclaim to call home. The very bricks we so pitifully reside within. Scrupulous, and entirely uncaring. Nature ravaged – bare! And yet throughout, the three remain…

 

-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…

End to End

Suffered through the grim linearity of time,

With curved mouths and endless conversation.

Suffered through all those days that ceaselessly pass by,

Unaware of the agile sea birds that swoop and glide

Across unwelcome lands, against the sea salt breeze.

 

On land, where the wind fails to blow,

Still and calm, in the burrows and the furrows of mammals,

Between their furs, and their ravaging claws,

Lunging for whispers, and forgotten sentiments;

Seeking out all those that excavate,

And those that gulp the precious water of sacred wells.

 

You cannot blame them; you cannot forgive them,

For the sea is far too deep,

And the land bitterly restricting.

Either belonging with the sea birds, or the land mammals.

Struggling to find an agreeable compromise.

Trusting in only what is handed, given-

Forgetting, to prudently seek for themselves.

 

Two places.

Two limits.

Two boundaries; one way, and the other.

 

Leaving the past – heading to the future.

Turning, and rolling, writhing and frolicking,

Throughout the sea, and across the lands,

Running with the shrieking caws, and the guttural gaping maws.

Running from what? To where?

It is not known…