Lit a candle in the rain
watched the spluttering spark fight it out
Cupped my hands around it
the warmth, however slight cradled my fingers
It brightened up the gloom
cast the shadows to a corner
It wasn’t a fight that was to be won
It wasn’t a struggle to survive
It was just a moment, a dim yet warming, wavering light
a flame to be treasured in its short span of life
Light a candle in the rain
you know it’s going to go out sometime soon
But then
you can always strike another match, right?
Why do I care why do I even try
Why do I need to even wonder why
Knowing that it ended even before it began
Why do I feel let down, why is it so hard to understand
Shake it off, lift my head
try to walk away
The need in me, the want in me
begs me to stay
Tell myself to be strong
Easier said than done
I’ll understand if you explain
I’ll be man enough to take the pain
But don’t go away and not tell me why
Don’t run away without the clichéd goodbye
You might look away but you’ll see me out of the corner of your eye
Tell me, in the breath of the wind do you hear my soul sigh
there I was, legs firmly wrapped around a fantasy
here I am reeling from it still
once in a while life hands you a moment
i'll use it
live it
love it
but walk away when the truth sinks in
no regrets
no half baked lies
no surrender to the dark
in the moment; shine
walk away, head held high
This is it, I’m done
Close the book start again
Wait for the off chance that I might be proven wrong
Hold my breath? not that stupid my friend
Reality comes a banging
Beating on the door
Reluctantly let him in, offer him a drink
He puts his feet up on my coffee table
Sips his G & T and gives me a wry grin
Beaten again? He asks in that snide way of his
I shake my head, offer him a coaster
Not this time I say, I haven’t fallen down yet
You were here when it started
We made the bargain
I don’t need you here smirking with your offering of pity
There’s the door, see yourself out
I gesture with my head
He puts his drink down, spares me a smile
I’ll be back says he, doffing his hat
You’ll be seeing me when you admit the truth to yourself
Then he’s gone, the ice still melts in his drink
I sit where he sat, waiting for the knocking to start again
Good evening and welcome to news at six.
This year kids around the world might face disappointment on Christmas morning. Mr. Kris Kringle aka Santa Claus has been reported missing. A distraught Mrs. Kringle told reporters today that for a while she has been noticing certain erratic behavior in her husband. In the end, she had enlisted the services of a private detective, but so far had received no news as to his whereabouts. The elves have been sent around on a worldwide hunt and the reindeer are scouting from the air for any signs of the beloved old man.
Wait, this just in: Mrs Kringle is currently on a phone call with our studio executives and she has said she received a telegram from the detective she had hired. We are waiting for her to fax it to us. Ah, here it is (thank you Trisha).
And it says: “ Santa Claus in rehab; too many Ho Ho Hos.”
“What’s wrong”, I ask myself.
“I’m not quite sure” I answer. “There’s this pent up raw mass of emotional impedimenta just waiting to get out”.
“Oh, is that it?” I say, “why didn’t you say so? And why couldn’t you use simpler words? Seriously, raw mass of emotional impedimenta? Why couldn’t you just say I feel kinda fucked up? That explains the situation just as well”.
“Well,” I reply, having thought about it for while, “it just sounds more potent, put like that y’know? It makes me sound deep”.
“Makes you sound like a proper twat it does” I say, sneeringly.
“Fine fine, I admit it. I do tent to overuse the language a bit. But sometimes when what I need to say has to be veiled so that the people they’re intended for don’t get it, it has to be done”.
“Hmmm. I get what you mean. But when you talk to me, I would appreciate you ditching the flowery language – just say it like it is, no need to gift wrap it”.
I smile.
I Return the smile.
“Anyway, so that’s how it is. Do you think it’ll get better anytime soon?”
“I dunno”, I reply. “But here’s the thing, as long as you continue to be this self absorbed you wont be doing anyone any good”.
“I know. And I’m going to drag myself out of this. Soon. I have to.”
“You will.” I say, understanding full well what I’m talking about. “Sometimes you need to be a little self indulgent and wallow. It’s all part of the process.”
“It just sucks, y’know.”
“I know.”
I sit back, feeling slightly better for the conversation, the company and the realization that no matter what, I can always count on myself to dig me out of whatever hole I’m in.
Is there any point in dwelling on the why? We insist on harping on the why me and why now and forget that whatever it was has already happened; without lamenting the why, the best thing might be to move on. Deal with the now and forget about ever getting any answers as to how things got fucked up. It’s another one of those unanswerable questions that insists on hammering at us till we’re broken. Dwelling on the why – that way madness lies.
Men tend to approach problems armed with a sledgehammer and a box of tools. If a woman tries to talk to them about something that’s bothering them a man will stop her mid-sentence and fire off a series of questions. They will completely ignore her need to just talk and insist on getting to the crux of the matter. Then they will provide solution after solution after solution. All of which the woman will dismiss because she didn’t come to him for a solution; she came to him to whinge. But he aint listening; he’s brandishing that sledgehammer and threatening to take the drill-bits out.
So there we are. This is why women have girlfriends, who listen for as long as they need to complain without seeing the need to offer any sort of solution. They will counter by offering similar examples from their own lives and nodding in agreement at whatever is said. Tentative solutions will be suggested, but these are mere evasive maneuvers. Not the ball crunching solutions a man would provide. Sated of the need to complain, the woman will return to the man smilingly happy and the man will unwittingly surmise that she’s happy because he solved her problem.
Summary: for a relationship to function without hiccups it requires three entities; the man, the woman and the other woman.
Unbidden
enter the realm of the fanciful
stalk the darkness, chase the shadows
A glimpse of the light
withheld by propriety
hovers
teasing, taunting tantalizing
The shape of perfection flees the imperfect reality
The craving longing needing
engulfs, smothers the spirit
Unheard
Unheeded
Unloved
From the positioning of the body I suspect the neighbouring Tom Cat (who is the current paramour of the wild cat that inhabits our garden) murdered him in a jealous rage and cleverly positioned the body under a fallen coconut tree to stage a suicide attempt. I however, am privy to the fact that the coconut tree fell down the day before the fateful event.
I’m onto you Tom Cat, I gots my eye on you.
how do we battle loneliness
that feeling of utter emptiness
benumbing
inexpressible
just pure frustration emanating from your pores
give in
bottomless pit of despair
try to rise above
but there’s no one there
who will hold you when you cry
who will want you now
a shell of who you once were
masquerading as a person
it’s all pretense
unreal
unfeeling mass of malcontent
wallowing
pitiful
repressed anger holding you down
so much to let go of
so much to hold on to
where is the damn light when you need it
what do we strive for
where will we find it
diminished hope
absolute
utter
loneliness
Invisible borders
Roping us in
Dictating the beginning and the end
Defining the possible and the impossible
Taunting us, containing us
Break free and there lies bewilderment
Unleash the monsters and they prey
Savage our being
Ravage our core
Stay within, conform
Dissatisfied yet safe
Damn the system,
Damn it to hell
We constantly seem to be on the brink of something. The start of, the end of, even the middle is a standing ground for some sort of left or right turn. When ever are we going to be satisfied with our lot? Is the need for a better state of being ever going to abate? Even when we say that we are content with our lot, do we not secretly wish that someone somewhere would pick up the phone and dial our number? Do we ever let go of the remnants of yesterday that echo in the misty corridors of our mind, or do we let them hover behind the cobwebs, dormant, waiting to be unleashed at our most vulnerable moments.
Why do I sometimes write such sanctimonious tosh? J
All weights being equal, I have decided to give Power World a shot. I noticed this particular one a while back, when driving by. So one da...
