It is not easy when you are interacting with others,. But, hey isn't that what we are doing most of the time. Even when alone, we are not truly alone. We carry memories. They play around in our heads, dictating what we do next. When you run away from one, another will take it's place. That is the way of it. We flit from our sort term to our long term memories like bees to nectar, or from flies to road-kill to cow-pat.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Up Down Level-ish.
It's ten to one and I don't know why I am still up. Maybe I am still 'riding high' on the good news. I came crashing down after I phoned my brother in a moment of forgetfulness. But how could I have forgotten the hell he is going through? How could I forget that he is lamenting daily, the loss of his oldest son? His pride and joy. How more insensitive could I have been than to phone him, in my elation. I always instinctively shared my news with him. But as I started talking I could hear the pain in his responses. My latent pain welled up. I have been running from the chasing pain for five long years, (failing often) trying to protect my children. I can't. This is something which I now fully realise they have to do for themselves.
My daughter has come through profound depression. Our whole family have. Sam was only 15 when he left this word. He was a shining light. It will never make sense. We have been inconsolable. That is the reality. I had to cope. Becky with hers, Leo with his, and I with mine. Perhaps it is because he is a boy, I am not sure that his grief emerged in other ways, just as valid, equally as traumatic. But like Becky, he shines. Children repair easier than the adults, though no reparation is by any means easy. They have youth on their side. I have a nagging responsibility to try and be more careful of peoples feelings, more aware of what I say, what I do, and how I hold myself. It is not an easy task to set yourself or to expect from others. We are all human, fallible.
I came to a sudden realization that Becky was going to be alright yesterday. She has followed her chosen path seen it to the end and created a hope-filled future for herself. Leo is doing the same, in college, studying what interests him. In my world things are beginning to look up. A long slow process for us all, and so very welcome.
It started in TIBU for me. It was my first internet interaction with other humans, as opposed to simply, I guess, surfing. Posting an old poem and going from there. I still remain friends with most. Regrettably there has been a few defriendations, mainly because of differences and my own lack of something or other. I needed to mask the depression from the world, from my friends and even my family. I am not sure how a good a job I did, but it was a quick fix which became an addiction. I haven't told any lies, but pretend emotions I can't live with. This is complicated. I have been finding that the facebook smiles and the lols are not fake but momentary. That it is so easy to not reap what you sow but to reap what is bestowed. I was tempted to throw out the baby with the bath water. But I stand corrected. This has altered how I think and feel about it. I need to be real, to know how I really feel. I feel hope and love. I appreciate my friends in this. I could not have done it alone. You people should know, that a kindness goes a very long way. My family too it needs to be said. Each and every one of them. I remain alone, but not lonely. I realise I still have a lot to do, people to see, and places to go, and I will carry the love with me.
My daughter has come through profound depression. Our whole family have. Sam was only 15 when he left this word. He was a shining light. It will never make sense. We have been inconsolable. That is the reality. I had to cope. Becky with hers, Leo with his, and I with mine. Perhaps it is because he is a boy, I am not sure that his grief emerged in other ways, just as valid, equally as traumatic. But like Becky, he shines. Children repair easier than the adults, though no reparation is by any means easy. They have youth on their side. I have a nagging responsibility to try and be more careful of peoples feelings, more aware of what I say, what I do, and how I hold myself. It is not an easy task to set yourself or to expect from others. We are all human, fallible.
I came to a sudden realization that Becky was going to be alright yesterday. She has followed her chosen path seen it to the end and created a hope-filled future for herself. Leo is doing the same, in college, studying what interests him. In my world things are beginning to look up. A long slow process for us all, and so very welcome.
It started in TIBU for me. It was my first internet interaction with other humans, as opposed to simply, I guess, surfing. Posting an old poem and going from there. I still remain friends with most. Regrettably there has been a few defriendations, mainly because of differences and my own lack of something or other. I needed to mask the depression from the world, from my friends and even my family. I am not sure how a good a job I did, but it was a quick fix which became an addiction. I haven't told any lies, but pretend emotions I can't live with. This is complicated. I have been finding that the facebook smiles and the lols are not fake but momentary. That it is so easy to not reap what you sow but to reap what is bestowed. I was tempted to throw out the baby with the bath water. But I stand corrected. This has altered how I think and feel about it. I need to be real, to know how I really feel. I feel hope and love. I appreciate my friends in this. I could not have done it alone. You people should know, that a kindness goes a very long way. My family too it needs to be said. Each and every one of them. I remain alone, but not lonely. I realise I still have a lot to do, people to see, and places to go, and I will carry the love with me.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Gold fish bowl.
This is
no Gaza Strip, no Berlin Wall,
push me and you're going to fall.
It wasn't you, or you, or you
Just something that I had to do.
He gave me to the tractor. It was a 'W' on my licence. I'd never been on one before, but I lied.
"How hard can it be?" He threw me the keys and it started up, into reverse and crashed into a line of bicycles.
He threw his arms up in the air. "I thought you could drive it". Don't ever presume. So he sent me to the carpentry.
There I sat varnishing the wood for double beds. Then she asked me to come work in the shop. Matushka. War weary all. The French guy never left his hut. He'd killed his wife in an automobile accident. The Argentinian came in exhausted, begging for mercy.
Big Jimmy walked by grinning loudly.
His parents had jumped together off a cliff.
When was five years old.
The cotton fields were bare
but there was a pecan tree nearby
and a wood-pecker pecked
as I strolled towards the showers
a kitten jumped up and clung to my sweater
he came back with me and lived with the mouse.
The orange groves were ripe for the picking
sacks and secateurs,
cubed crates headed for Jaffa
Where is the Jaffa Cake man now?
The early morning call .
The bakery knotting the Shabbat Bread
The volunteer girls giggling
the work weary sigh of the machines.
He came to ask me if I would save his father
this boy from Brighton, no older than me.
He'd been there too long and wouldn't leave.
There was no end to this girl's responsibility.
So they dressed as Poirot's and came to Christmas
while I sang the Town of Ballybay with the girl from Galway.
I picked Pecans from the ground, because I could
added them to the bounty of food.
The masks left early, those rolling stones
but still they tried to get me to take him home.
I couldn't go, i was paralysed with the grief
of the death of a child.
no Gaza Strip, no Berlin Wall,
push me and you're going to fall.
It wasn't you, or you, or you
Just something that I had to do.
He gave me to the tractor. It was a 'W' on my licence. I'd never been on one before, but I lied.
"How hard can it be?" He threw me the keys and it started up, into reverse and crashed into a line of bicycles.
He threw his arms up in the air. "I thought you could drive it". Don't ever presume. So he sent me to the carpentry.
There I sat varnishing the wood for double beds. Then she asked me to come work in the shop. Matushka. War weary all. The French guy never left his hut. He'd killed his wife in an automobile accident. The Argentinian came in exhausted, begging for mercy.
Big Jimmy walked by grinning loudly.
His parents had jumped together off a cliff.
When was five years old.
The cotton fields were bare
but there was a pecan tree nearby
and a wood-pecker pecked
as I strolled towards the showers
a kitten jumped up and clung to my sweater
he came back with me and lived with the mouse.
The orange groves were ripe for the picking
sacks and secateurs,
cubed crates headed for Jaffa
Where is the Jaffa Cake man now?
The early morning call .
The bakery knotting the Shabbat Bread
The volunteer girls giggling
the work weary sigh of the machines.
He came to ask me if I would save his father
this boy from Brighton, no older than me.
He'd been there too long and wouldn't leave.
There was no end to this girl's responsibility.
So they dressed as Poirot's and came to Christmas
while I sang the Town of Ballybay with the girl from Galway.
I picked Pecans from the ground, because I could
added them to the bounty of food.
The masks left early, those rolling stones
but still they tried to get me to take him home.
I couldn't go, i was paralysed with the grief
of the death of a child.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
same as it ever was
Memories make themselves
follow carved paths
a bob-slay rides it out to the end
As they bandage you up, you lie there
wondering how it came to this.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
apology
I am always apologising for who i am
not for any sin i might have committed
love is something that
I wear on my sleeve
the front runner of my desire
I have no apologies for it
yet truth is hidden deep
under solid skin
not for any sin i might have committed
love is something that
I wear on my sleeve
the front runner of my desire
I have no apologies for it
yet truth is hidden deep
under solid skin
Monday, July 25, 2011
Morning Meandering Musings
How can I make sense when my references are faded chaos
Copper water under sepia bridges sooth the dark shadows
of the
all too
shimmering light.
I count seventeen pillars arching under a busy monoxide bridge
blending old with new where carriages once rattled,
and cattle were prodded gently to market day.
As these images start to fade I wake back into the everyday
where the hooded gulls fight over a scrap of bread,
and the geese waddle comically in single file along
the new concrete promenade looking through side eyes
as if I was the one who took away their muddy bank.
I don't worry about these oblivious birds but for the likes of me
who in a fraction, don't how to take the right action
so over-whelmed by it all, who tumble and fall in an emotional abyss
that this all too quiet life, that these are the only words coming from
a world spent attempting and failing to make sense.
Copper water under sepia bridges sooth the dark shadows
of the
all too
shimmering light.
I count seventeen pillars arching under a busy monoxide bridge
blending old with new where carriages once rattled,
and cattle were prodded gently to market day.
As these images start to fade I wake back into the everyday
where the hooded gulls fight over a scrap of bread,
and the geese waddle comically in single file along
the new concrete promenade looking through side eyes
as if I was the one who took away their muddy bank.
I don't worry about these oblivious birds but for the likes of me
who in a fraction, don't how to take the right action
so over-whelmed by it all, who tumble and fall in an emotional abyss
that this all too quiet life, that these are the only words coming from
a world spent attempting and failing to make sense.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The sparrow and the elephants.
One sunny day a little sparrow
flew through the open window
behind the bookshelves.
that lined the entire wall,
corner to corner, floor to ceiling.
She had that where's it gone kind of feeling
Over the fire-place live three
small wooden elephants
from India, graded in height.
But that sparrow had disappeared
right out of sight
She went to bed that night hoping
her feathered friend would be alright.
When the morning came, she entered the room
to look for her glasses and saw right through
the blur four little elephants resting
on the mantle-piece, all in perfect formation.
What a strange thing to see
Last night there were only three
through her sleep induced blurry.
Sparrow had found some midnight company.
He doesn't come near the house any more,
his nest is in the rafters of her patio
where he feeds the babies
chirps about his adventures
indoors hanging with a herd of Indians,
and a funny little lady with dentures.
flew through the open window
behind the bookshelves.
that lined the entire wall,
corner to corner, floor to ceiling.
She had that where's it gone kind of feeling
Over the fire-place live three
small wooden elephants
from India, graded in height.
But that sparrow had disappeared
right out of sight
She went to bed that night hoping
her feathered friend would be alright.
When the morning came, she entered the room
to look for her glasses and saw right through
the blur four little elephants resting
on the mantle-piece, all in perfect formation.
What a strange thing to see
Last night there were only three
through her sleep induced blurry.
Sparrow had found some midnight company.
He doesn't come near the house any more,
his nest is in the rafters of her patio
where he feeds the babies
chirps about his adventures
indoors hanging with a herd of Indians,
and a funny little lady with dentures.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
The River
These familiar waters of my childhood
still flow strong and silent
holding memories
of alabaster canoes
rods with hooks
dips to cool the sweltering heat
of the summer sun.
The smell of fresh rainbow trout
the spectrum of colours shimmering
on their glossy scales as they
shudder into the other world.
The soft sound of the oars
the glubbing of a bubble rising.
We are pirates seeking new terrain.
We are captains of the ship
sailing to distant lands,
conquering new islands.
We are protectors of the otters
who watch us incognito
from their shady den.
These halcyon days remain
etched in my mind
with no beginning and no end
by fiocle
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Weight - blogen
When I pick up my camera, I can tell whether the battery is in it just by how heavy it is.
I enjoy that I have this skill. It's subtle and means that my nervous system is doing good.
By nervous system I mean, the connection from my brain to my arm muscles, and my ability
to compute and discern. Yes, I like that.
Remembering where I put the battery is a whole other ball game. My eye muscles come into play
and there is a lot more searching involved. Much more strenuous than weighing something up.
I would be good as a bird of prey. But maybe I would make a decent baker, actually maybe that is why I like to bake. I don't need scales, I just lift up the bag of flour or sugar or whatever and 'guess'. But, in my case, it isn't guessing, I am naturally good at it. This leads me to where I need to be right now. Looking into the possibility of going back to work, you've guessed it, in a kitchen, baking or other some such weighty pass-time. Did I mention I also like chopping things fast. Vegetables more so than meat.
Now where did I put that battery?
I enjoy that I have this skill. It's subtle and means that my nervous system is doing good.
By nervous system I mean, the connection from my brain to my arm muscles, and my ability
to compute and discern. Yes, I like that.
Remembering where I put the battery is a whole other ball game. My eye muscles come into play
and there is a lot more searching involved. Much more strenuous than weighing something up.
I would be good as a bird of prey. But maybe I would make a decent baker, actually maybe that is why I like to bake. I don't need scales, I just lift up the bag of flour or sugar or whatever and 'guess'. But, in my case, it isn't guessing, I am naturally good at it. This leads me to where I need to be right now. Looking into the possibility of going back to work, you've guessed it, in a kitchen, baking or other some such weighty pass-time. Did I mention I also like chopping things fast. Vegetables more so than meat.
Now where did I put that battery?
Photosynthesis
Trudging through the day,
weighted
no reason to mimic the sky
listening to the crimson
love-calls of the clueless purple people
Blue competing with yellow
in confusion turns to green
Photosynthesis struggling for it’s say
amongst the black and grey city scene.
weighted
no reason to mimic the sky
listening to the crimson
love-calls of the clueless purple people
Blue competing with yellow
in confusion turns to green
Photosynthesis struggling for it’s say
amongst the black and grey city scene.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Last Tree Standing
They came with bulldozers and chainsaws
Tagged numbers on our trunks
Beasts ran for the hills
With retracted claws
They felled us, cut us into chunks.
I watched silently as they came for me
Branches trembling in the breeze
A whistle blew, I knew they'd be
On their way home now for their tea.
The horrific day turned to night-time black
I await now for them to come back
To take me to the others on the stack.
23rd July 2009
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
'musings' on the closing of hospitals in rural areas - it's personal.
What do you think you are playing at
You self-serving bureaucratic
whine and diners?
Could you push your heads any further
up the place where the sun never shines?
These useless lines, these futile rhymes
are all I can do to try and quell
the rising anger, thoughts of the hell
in which you will fester, you jesters
fooling with my mother's life.
You have a wife? a daughter, a son?
Well, play on then, it won't be long
Till you reap what you sow
and btw don't you know
You are murderous twats
and that is all I have to say
about that.
Fiocle 6th July and angry.
You self-serving bureaucratic
whine and diners?
Could you push your heads any further
up the place where the sun never shines?
These useless lines, these futile rhymes
are all I can do to try and quell
the rising anger, thoughts of the hell
in which you will fester, you jesters
fooling with my mother's life.
You have a wife? a daughter, a son?
Well, play on then, it won't be long
Till you reap what you sow
and btw don't you know
You are murderous twats
and that is all I have to say
about that.
Fiocle 6th July and angry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)