If You Knew What Makes Me Cry

I’m a man you know, and all men feel

Emotional………sometimes!

We laugh it off and blame the beer

“No, really mate, I’m fine”

You would wet your pants with laughter

If you knew what makes me cry.

It’s not the twilight sunset

Nor that twinkle in your eye.

 

On the terraces, win, lose or draw

“Fuck off ref” I shout

It’s not that I’m a heartless …t,

But these feelings must come out.

You would wet your pants with laughter

If you knew what makes me cry.

It’s not the twilight  sunset

Nor that twinkle in your eye.

 

My missus is amazing,

Shes gorgeous through and through.

My throat went dry, my heart near stopped,

when she whispered ” Yes I do”

You would wet your pants with laughter

If you knew what makes me cry.

It’s not the twilight sunset

Nor that twinkle in your eye.

 

My princess buggers off,

To the girls each Sunday night.

I’m sure she goes on purpose,

So my tears stay out of sight.

You would wet your pants with laughter

If you knew what makes me cry.

It’s not the twilight sunset

Nor that twinkle in your eye.

 

How kind she is to let my tears,

Flow freely through my beard.

I’m really quite emotional

But I find crying weird.

You would wet your pants with laughter

If you knew what makes me cry.

It’s not the twilight sunset

Nor that twinkle in your eye.

 

 

 

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Grief

Anxiety and butterflies danced in my belly first

And was followed shortly by intense longing, yearning, and…

Hope.

There you were, holding hands

Walking just a few paces in front.

I shouted your name and…

You never turned or showed any recognition, such as a missed step or a tension in your shoulders.

For a few seconds I knew you were still here, that you

Had not gone away to “a better place”

Such a FUCKING crass sentence. I hate it. I HATE THOSE WORDS.

There is no better place than being with you. Walking through a scorched and barren desert would be bliss if we walked it together.

What emotions or clear thoughts can I have, when there is the emptiness of your shape that I fill and will not let go of.

I will not let go of you. Never.

Who Am I? Who Are You? Society, Change, The Pain Of Ownership, The Journey From Me To We, Who Are We.

The beginning of my personal enquiry seems a little strange, but my thoughts were in response to a discussion on another blog.

Who Are We?

I agree. One positive change is beginning to happen with children being taught mindfulness in schools. It’s already creating communication, acceptance, tolerance, and the ability to look within. I like the idea of the shamanic talking stick. You can only speak when you have the stick. You hold the stick and state whatever you need to discuss and then pass the stick over. The person who is now holding the stick then has to say “this is what I heard you say…..and I think you mean this….” The stick gets passed back and you  respond to the other person. You agree with what tbe person heard and then explain what the second person didn’t hear or understand. This process is re6peated until you have been heard. The second person then holds the stick and they can then discuss whats bothering them, and repeat the process. Honest dialogue, honest speak, honest watching and honest listening. Honest listening is really hearing what has been said without mentally preparing to add your perspective, and without planning a response.  Honest watching is discussed by CE HALL in her essay Woman: The Mystery Decoded.

The bigger picture

I’m going to get political now – with the big P (government) the issue is that they can’t and don’t look at the big picture. They tackle single issues, crime, housing, tobacco, gambling, mental health, teen pregnancy etc. They do this because their aim is to get re-elected. They seek power not change.If they tackle the big picture and see that there is something wrong with the whole system, then they have to work from the ground up. Why does the UK have so much debt, a higher proportion of people in prison than other European countries. The biggest ratio of teenage pregnancies, food banks, an increase in betting shops; etc etc. To tackle the big picture is a long term process, and no government will dare to undertake this because the change is a slow and will take many years. This brings the risk of not being elected again. With governments of any kind – labour; conservative, Republican, Democrat. They are all the same. They all seek power and re-election rather than creating a cohesive and open society.
The small p is the politics of individuals and ownership. This is MY house, MY football team, MY religion, MY wife. My country. When we focus on me and ownership we create a polemic system where I am right and you are wrong. Suffering comes from ownership. It’s painful to defend a position that we find security in, so we then become defensive on the inside and create violence on the outside, and not necessarily physical violence.

Change can only come from individuals who enquire about who they are, and who others are. We let go of MY and understand WE. We look into our shame about who we are. We enter into our shadow and face it, and realise that shame is a myth, a social construct to create systemic control and obedience. When we see this we are free, we forgive ourselves and see that others act from shame, we understand their behaviour. Just because we understand their behaviour does not mean that we accept it. We set boundaries.  We can now see the bigger picture of WE. Shame is not personal, it is universal. We let go of the personal shame. No longer driven by our shadow, we are free to choose how we want to live. Free to set our boundaries, we now have choice because we are living from the bigger picture. This personal enquiry is happening with individuals around the world. If this change continues to develop, then change will happen from the grass roots upwards; and not from governments.

The realisation is I’m not who I think I am. The definitions and labels that I have received from myself and others, my defensive, restrictive belief system; my memories, my goals. These have all been possessive and restrictive. I thought I had choice, but when I started to explore these belief systems I realise how false and limiting they are. I am not my thoughts, feelings, beliefs, memories, ideologies, I am not my circumstances, I am not my personality (it’s just a restrictive perception).If am able to observe these things with an open mind, I realise that I cannot be what I observe. Everything that I think I am is impermanent. Even the cells in my body and the neurons in my brain change and die. There is a part of me, a “self” that has witnessed everything. It’s always been there. Here’s an analogy to explain this. I am the white board. You write on me and I remain as the white board. You rub out the writing and write something else, I remain as the white board . Another analogy. I am a tv screen. A documentary is played on the TV. I remain as the screen. You turn the TV off and the screen remains. You play a film. A tragic romance comes on. There is love and friendship and hope and dreams. The main character dies and there is grief, guilt and anger. All of these events and ideas happen on the screen. But they are not the screen. The screen is “self” who I am.

What remains needs meditation, contemplation, writing a journal, examining our beliefs and reactions. We question who or what am I beyond awareness. We realise that we are all “self” we are all the neutral observer. There is no separation from me and you. There is no MY.

The journey to discovery, to seeking the truth about who I am is a courageous path. To let go of false security and belief systems, to stand in presence, in this moment, with nothing to cling hold of, no false comfort blanket; We remain aware. The aware observer is following the warriors journey.

I now live with the knowledge that “we are”. Everything is ours. I am now free to share what is ours, rather than cling to what is mine. I have started “pay it forward friday” I go to the bakery and buy a pie. I pay with a  5 Pound note and ask the cashier to use the change to pay for whoever she serves next. I give 2 pound to a woman who sells the big issue, and 2 pound to a charity. It reaffirms that it’s our money, our connection; our pain and struggles, our hopes. “We are”. I am seeking the answer to who we really are beyond the veil of deception.

I am one of those people who have started to seek truth because of a crisis, because of the pain of breaking my boundaries, of doing “wrong”. The collapse of personal identity, the shame, the fear and grief, cracked my identity and personality wide open. Many people begin to seek answers to who they really are because of a total breakdown of the personality. There are more that seek because instinctively they feel that something is missing. Change is happening. We may not see the results in the near future, but as more people realise they are not who they think they are, more change begins.

The question remains – who am I?

Reference

Hall, CE; 2017; Women: The Mystery Decoded; Online at https://cehallweb.wordpress.com/2017/09/21/women-the-mystery-decoded/ (accessed on 30th September 2017)

Aos Si – The Fairie (Coming to Get You!)

At this time of year when

The night is drawing in,

The leaves they start to fall,

And my work can begin.

Cold and dampness penetrate,

Into muscle and bone,

I’m searching, watching out for you,

Will I find you alone?

Do you hear that rustling?

Or that suspicious crack?

It’s only the courageous,

Who stop and dare look back.

Hill of Tara, Hill of Tara

Samhain’s nearly here.

Spirits rise to claim your life,

At the end of the Pagan year.

Aos Si the Fairie

Are waiting to surprise,

And take you to the underworld,

Unless you’re in disguise.

You may trick the Aos Si

With mumming and fine song

But I am death! I’m winter!

If you think you’ll live – you’re wrong!

Winter is the season

That’s the hardest one to cheat.

It’s time to rest your shrivelled soul

And lay it at my feet.

 

Man With a Blade -(Trigger Warning)

Hell have no fury like a man with a blade

Cutting out emotions that you’ve made.

Physical beatings assault and rape,

That’s what it was, now my minds in a state.

To end my life would be so much fun

But I can’t get my hands on a weapon like a gun

So I’m gonna have a go to put a pause in this pain

With a blade in my hand I’m gonna blood drain.

 

If any of the issues in this poem affect you support is available in a great many countries and online.

afspnational (twitter)

Samaritans

IMAlive

P.S. My poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery

P.S. My poetry can be intense. I AM OK. Writing is recovery.

I am aware that people do get worried about the starkness of my writing. It’s drawn from a variety of experiences. Some my own, and some of others. Please let me reassure you that I am really OK. I write from the heart and the words come as they will. I feel the need to write this disclaimer because this poem is disturbing. Please please seek help if you are struggling.

 

Fragile As An Eggshell

My mind, my mind

Emotions intense

My thoughts they torture me

Emotions  so intense

Your more important

Than me.

Obsessive thoughts

Of what you think

Of what you think of me.

The more I think

Of what you think

It takes a piece of me.

A piece of me

Is taken

Each time I think of you.

When I say you

It’s not just one

It’s every one I see

I think you all hate me

And I don’t think of me.

A crack appears

My mind is broken

My fragile mind

My fragile self is gone

Myself I cannot find.

I’m fragile

Cracked

An eggshell

Broke

The yoke had gone

The egg white has disappeared

The space inside is fear

I live inside the eggshell

Please don’t come to near.

Please don’t

Please don’t

Just leave me alone

Fragile mind

Fragile thoughts

Fragile feelings

Fragile self

Fragile self esteem

 

P.S. My poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery

I’m Reaching Out Tonight (Think Back from the Edge)

The river is so cold and wet

I am sinking out of sight

Dark cold water fills my lungs

I’ve killed myself tonight.

 

Floating down the swollen river

The stars they shine so bright

My coat is heavy, weighs me down

Could it be tonight?

 

Upon the bridge I’m looking down

My head is numb and light

No one’s around, so I step off

Maybe it’s tonight?

 

I close the door behind me

The snow is crisp and white

I have a plan, I’ll see it through

Please God, please tonight?

 

My dearest friends and family

My last wishes I here write

It’s not your fault, but I must go

I’m sorry, but it’s tonight.

 

My thoughts and feelings hurt me so

Nothing left to fight

I have to end this living hell

I believe it is tonight.

 

Depression is too deep, too dark

The tunnel has no light

I’ve laid in bed another week

Stuff, it’s tonight

 

I’ll dial that helpline number

Though I’m scared and full of fright

                                                                       “Hello Samaritans”

“I’m desperate can you help me?”

I reached out tonight.

 

Make the call, You’re worth it!

Suicide Hotlines

In 2016 there were 6188 suicides in The UK and Republic of Ireland. Suicide is a serious issue. If you are feeling suicidal help is available.

UK and Republic of Ireland The Samaritans on 116123 or email jo@Samaritans.org you can find other resources on u can cope

In the USA Nation Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255

In Canada 403 327 7905

In Australia Lifeline Australia 13 11 14

In India The Samaritans +91-22-2307-3451

In Israel  Eran 1201

Twitter 800273TALK

Please add suicide hotline numbers from your country in the comments and I will add them above.

 

P.S. My poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery.

Tears of a Blade

Two razors form a crucifix

I hope for resurrection

They cut a map upon my flesh

To provide me with direction.

The blood makes tears, upon my arms

The ones my eyes can’t shed

Despite the pain, traumatic grief

The blackened heart of dread.

It makes life real, and validates

The hurt that lives inside

I’m trying to escape from it

I wish I could have cried.

 

On looking back, it’s plain to see, the trauma that’s been moving me, to run, to flee from tragedy, help me destroy the memory that leaves me locked internally, behind the walls encircling me.

To keep you out.

 

There’s a map upon my skin

Raised ridges scar this lanscape

A map of life and emotion

That only found it expression

Through the tears of a blade.

So many journeys and destinations

People and buildings mapped out.

I look over the information, the symbols, the key.

How do I find my way to my destiny if it’s not on the map? Not written in big red letters?

 

It’s time to find the cross

Erase another line,

Let the tears flow free again

And maybe i can make that sign.

The destinations there,

It’s waiting to be found.

To lay this black, dead heart

Inside the sacred ground.

The tears of red will light the way.

And keep the fear of life away.

Until that final blessed day.

 

“TEARS OF A BLADE”

“Tears of a blade” you’ll hear me say.

 

P.S. my poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery.

Mushroom Head

Mushroom head is full of scare

There’s a goat stuck up my nose

A nightmare’s in the wardrobe

Where a cabbage normally grows.

 

A bus slides past, on its roof

Down the icy street of blood

Monsters in my mushroom head

Want to suck my blood.

 

My brain – it ain’t that normal

Since psychosis settled in

I’ve let it have the front room

And I live in the bin.

 

The doctor don’t know what to do

He’s given me some drugs

But the nightmare took them off me

And fed them to the slugs.

 

“GO AWAY MUSHROOM HEAD”

“I DON’T WANT YOU KNOW MORE”

It stood there and laughed

With dark and hollow eyes

Then told me very calmly

“I will turn you into pies”

 

It forced me into the kitchen

And took a knife in hand

“Don’t speak to me like that again”

“I hope you understand”

 

“I’m not your psychosis”

“Look in the mirror and see”

“You are my reflection”

“It’s you who’s buggin me!”

 

No I don’t know what is true

“WHO IS REAL” I shout

So I’m going to hang myself tonight

And then I’ll soon find out.

 

If I’m not successful

And find that I still live

Then I will know that I’m the madness

And in mushroom head I live.

 

But if I gasp and choke and die

My reality will be known

Mushroom head will vanish

And I’ll die in peace, alone.

Collecting Days – But I Don’t Know What For!

People like to collect things.

It’s a natural human experience.

Some people collect friendship.

Others collect grades and marks

As a result of collecting information.

Most people collect comfort,

With food or clothes or to

Make a house a home.

It’s no compulsion, for them

It’s the pleasure of life

Where meaning is made

From

Collecting connection.

 

For some it goes wrong

The hoarder has to have the shit you throw away, that’s no use, it ends up in a charity shop or the car boot sale. Your waste will fill my lack of space, as I lost it with the need for more, of bits and pieces, more and more goes through my door and I HAVENOSPACETOBREATHANYMORE

But I don’t know what for.

I don’t    know     what

For!

 

The dull train goes rickety rack, along the track, you stand and snack, with twisted back, you lean to hope, you have to see, to look at me, with pen in hand, as I go past, you search so fast, for my number,  for my number, write it quick, write it fast,     I’m going,    and     you           smiled                    at

Me

But we know your not free, and you never will be, because now in the rain, comes another dull train – white and black numbers. Look.

Look  look – write me in your book.

But you don’t know what for

You    don’t    know    what

For!

 

I don’t know what for

Why life? There’s no meaning,

And I’ve given up gleaning

for bits to make sense

Get up in the morning

I act – and I do what I do

Because something needs doing, it has to be done, no matter what, just do it, then do something else, and then do some more. Sometimes it happy and joyful, or sad, or full of the crippling energetic bursts of anxiety that make me stiff and yet shake.

 

There are times it’s so engrossing that you find a flowing life that runs so easy and so free it happens so quickly and time has passed and I stop.

And I can’t tell you what I’ve done. What have I done?

But I find

In bed at night

When stars shine

That whether or not

The day has been good

Or bad! Positive or joyful and busy or

 

Slow

Or sad, HEAVY and SAD

That all I have done is

Collected

Another – meaningless – pointless day

And I go to bed knowing

That tomorrow I will collect

Another – meaningless – pointless day

To add to my growing collection

But I don’t know what for

I    don’t    know    what

For!!!

All that is left is to find meaning.

 

Or…….?