Posted tagged ‘Views on life’

Wait

February 15, 2016

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Disregarded,

Reduced

Shut down

Disappointed

Let Go

Unvalued

Invisible

Untouched

Uncared for

Silent

Cold

Confused

Tired

Worn out

Weary

Scared

Uncomfortable

Too used to this madness

Not alone but very alone

Single

Complicated

Did I do all this to myself

With the touch that so many desire

Did I cause myself to stand by the rivers bank

In the midst of the flood

And expect my feet to remain on solid ground

As mud slides from beneath the concreted street

Falling away leaving devastation

Space,

Wait…

I thought space was a blessing,

A high value commodity,

Yet I stand in Space,

Not alone but alone

In awkward silence, smiles and a muddle happiness

Wondering how ‘Wait’ – one word, with so little to it,

Has meant so much.

 

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Before the Rainbow

July 15, 2010

It’s raining,

And I have become one with the grime that splashes

as the filthy sky-juice mixes with the dirt that lays on the streets that I walk

Every day.

The more it rains,

The grimier I become,

The more of me that is taken over by the sky-juice /dirt mix,

The more of me I lose to the streets that I walk

Every day,

The less me I become.

And as it rains,

And the skies spit down in jest,

Lightning shining over and over again,

Glorifying my decay

Like a thorny crown resting on my new lox

Causing blood and sweat to drip from my temple,

As thunder strikes out bringing screams from mouths,

I feel myself eroding,

Becoming less me each day,

Until all I remain to be is that mix…

…,

…,

…,

…The dirt of the streets that I walk every day and the filthy sky-juice that fell and created me as grime

And slowly washed me away

Into sewers and blocked drains.

Unrecognizable now,

It’s raining

And I have become one with the grime that lays on the streets I walk

Every day.

No longer me,

No longer human,

No longer reachable

Not by friend nor foe,

Not by Mrs Love or Mistress Lust

Even Dr Anger must wait at Lucifer’s right hand being stroked and held back,

So forgive me if I don’t answer when you call me by my name,

‘Cos I am no longer here.

© Simon D Bucknor

Deep Thoughts, Too Late

May 24, 2010

The dirt must have been dry at some point,

Or they wouldn’t have been able to dig the grave,

Wouldn’t it have slid right back in?

Rolled like a toppling bus on a sloped hillside,

Delivering it’s passengers to their final destination

With or without pressing their Oyster card against the electronic reader,

Thoughts thunder, reverberating against the lined wood surroundings.

I went with a fight and still I fight now,

I want to wake up.

I only wanted to sleep for one night,

But time passed and arrived at my bedside,

My rage unbridled now my soul is on its way away,

I am alive only with anger, livid with my hands, with all of me,

But above all my gormless heart that refuses silence and peace.

A man sat in pain until he could no longer resist the urge to change his situation. He wanted rest, needed rest, craved rest.

He took a sleeping pill, it didnt work.

He took a sleeping pill, it didnt work.

He took a sleeping pill, it didnt work.

He took a sleeping pill, it didnt work.

Soon the pill bottle lay empty, but for the cotton wool.

Sleep came, the pain eased, then came the realisation that death had been invited and had arrived.

© Simon Bucknor

The Last Time I Fell In Love

May 9, 2010

Have you ever booked an appointment,

To hear the wind blow?

I have,

I had to book online and await a reply,

I felt like a fool, but the thought was fun,

So I waited and waited for my reply to come.

To my surprise, I did and it did too,

‘Your appointment has been confirmed,

Please enjoy’,

I had a time, date and venue,

Along with a health and safety brief,

Was told what to bring,

And what I wouldn’t need.

Excitement hit me hard and fast,

Like a baseball in the chest,

I prepared myself for days that felt like years,

Patiently waiting,

And with waiting my time soon arrived.

I turned up at an office,

Which looked to me much like open space,

I had been told to sit in the shadow of the brightest tree

And try to lose my weight,

Confused, just a touch,

I sat, sunk, leaned back and rested my weary frame.

As if from inside my own soul,

The sky opened and called my name.

It said, ‘The wind will be with you shortly,

Please do not be alarmed

Enjoy your experience,

Any problems simply raise your arm’

With that there was an enjoyable silence,

As if the world’s spinning had stopped,

The wind blew and I heard,

Each undulating ripple, every majestic movement,

I heard and it comforted me,

Bringing with it sounds of the near and far east,

And the song of the sparrows nesting in the trees,

It was a beautifully full moment.

Complete.

My appointment was over,

The wind moved on to its next client,

And as I rose to my feet

With a replenished peace and a new found infatuation with the wind,

Life’s other sounds engulfed me,

The screams, the cries, the ills, the dreams crushed by misguided realties,

I trudged home with this din seeking a home in me,

And booked another appointment to hear the wind blow

So I can retake my place with my new love in the shadow of the brightest tree.

The Frustration

April 4, 2010

I love the person I am

As I exist in the shadows of love

Because it is a me that I can see

Without closing my eyes

And turning my head away

I love the things I say

Even the darkness that escapes

Because it is me, in truth

And lies,

Well lies leave a distinct bitterness

At the end of my tongue

Which no amount of spitting

Or Listerine can rid

I enjoy being myself at times

Seeing the fear I put into others

I like me

The way my footsteps are placed in peace

It’s not arrogance

Nor misplaced self-belief

Just my way of dealing with

The impossibilities of me being anyone else but me.

Staring Out To Sea

February 25, 2010

I exist on an island,

Standing on the shore staring out to sea.

My gaze yearns to excite,

With the sight of an exit in which my heart’s hopes can believe.

Who can I run to?

Where can I turn?

Who can withstand the heat?

Feels like my attempts cause all bridges to spontaneously burn.

Where can I go,

To get what I need?

How can I fool my tongue,

So it’s unparalleled power it believes?

Where can I be heard?

Where can I be helped?

Who can I really run to?

‘Cos my story I’m desperate to tell.

Whose ears work the best?

Who’s linked their ears to a caring heart?

Where can I go to mend myself?

Can I battle the feeling that it’s too late to start?

I’ve tried so many times,

I reach out but see only my own hand

Who’s going to be there to meet me?

When I step off my insular island

I cannot continue to try and fail,

To speak into ears that don’t show they hear,

To reach out and find that still no one’s there,

Increasingly feeling that no one truly cares.

But I will remain set on my question mark and be led by my eyes,

Their movement I feel within me and without, they’re still searching,

My heart and head redundant, tired, spent

Somewhere there must be a place where my hurt can find the beginning of its end.

When I find that person, when I find that place,

When I find that moment, that feeling, that no pain can chase away,

This Island that I stand on the shore of will be an immediate fading memory,

And I will raise my sails, ride the waves and enjoy the prevailing winds of change.

© Simon Bucknor

Short Phrases

February 18, 2010

Yesterday was a day of thoughts,
And many thoughts were born yesterday,
I spent hours walking and listening,
Being nosey,
Finely tuned in to the lives of others,
Or at least the lives that others speak about,
Just listening,
Walking and trying to be invisible.

I heard many many words
It seemed that so many people
Had so much to say
With no one to listen to their rants,
Their cries,
Their needs, hopes and dreams,
Every mind had its own dissertation on life,

What hit me hardest,
And has stayed with me,
Just beneath my skin
Causing irritation
However slight, it is irritation,
That I cannot shake off,
Was that the fullness of emotion,
The aches of heart and soul and midnight dreams
Could so easily be summed up
In the shortest of phrases.

In these short phrases I found the truth of the situation.
In these shortest phrases I found the tears and the smiles,
It was in these shortest phrases I found the reason for their speech.
The phrases started with ‘I’
And ended with an action,
Whether it was a frown,
A gasp,

A sudden pushing out of the air that builds up in us

When we become frustrated,

No matter what it was,

There was an action that said “It’s ok, enough words have been said.”

And in between the ‘I’ and the action of release,
Was the problem at its simplest.

In these short phrases people spoke of emotions,
Of hurt,
Of joy,
Of pleasures,
Of depression,
Of failures and unmet expectations,
But I was hit by the shortness of theses phrases
Yet they were the most powerful.

So I am now thinking of what my short phrase would be,

To end this explanation of my yesterday,

And the thoughts that yesterday parented.
I have heard the power of short phrases,
And as I find myself involuntarily nodding my head in agreement with these words,
I realise that my phrase is already complete,
And no more words need to be said.

© Simon D. Bucknor

2010