Yes, we finally completed the move and it took a good 5 months. Since then we have been making sure the house is fully furnished and finished to the standard we feel comfortable with and yesterday the final piece of the puzzle was complete...the dining table. We now have everything we wanted and are only left with a few cosmetic improvements.
Am I happy? Yes! Although it has taken me a while to fully adjust, I reckon I am about 90% there. It was, and still is, sad to have moved out of the house I have lived my entire life (37 years as of now) but it was the perfect time to do it.
So, my writing...how has that been going I here you ask. Well, pretty damn good. This year was to be the year I wrote every day and to create a project of poetry, similar to a diary, of each day, what happened, how I felt etc. And apart from a handful of days, I have so far managed to stick to this and it is turning out to be a very interesting piece of work with some of my best (and worst) work. I am determined to continue this till the end of 2014 and then look at publishing in some form or another.
Below, there is some morsels for you to digest...enjoy:
9th June
Hollow
Swallowing darkness choking on swine,
this hollow dream a startling reality,
stumbling with each step forward,
falling backwards to that final cut,
no one to catch me, no one but
the shadow with the knife in his back,
a reflection of future mistakes,
a sorry lost mind - his only crime.
Suffocating on this vast landscape,
this hollow isolation burns with paranoia,
whispering words of fear and hate,
turning warm brown eyes cold and distant,
connection gone, final communication sent,
tear stained ticket tape of blood,
lights on, nobody home,
a true victim of self-inflicted rape.
Slipping down ropes and noose,
this hollow victory laced with razors,
perfect sense with deserved judgement,
in this end there remains a nothingness,
memory of me is gone, a coward no less,
as time wipes the slate clean and they forget,
don’t look so surprised, it’s only business,
just another numbered statistic let loose.
2nd April
Surgeons words
Crackling heartbeats pulsate in my ear,
the beep beep of monitors reducing
time we patients have in this life,
a resolve of harmony and destiny
twisting language with forked tongues,
let’s clap along and dance about,
let’s ride this wave of thunderous chops,
the bells calling, the last gasp fading,
specimens battle worn and trapped
beckoning and scraping your teeth,
burrowing into every nerve, naïve
a very nasty bedside manner
demanding the space you occupy as their own,
burning dying senses with prism voices,
a marker in black lowering a fant o mas
and a ping tells us we are done,
echoing with an eternal surgical sound,
no more screams, no more shouts, no more nothing,
reduced to ticks of a clock and tocks of a memory,
murmurings of wobbly sci-fi eeriness
on an ocean explosion of denial and loss,
the white noise of death taking us in,
up above or down below we swirl,
our surgeons words punctuated with a whistle
and a museum of discarded rubber gloves.
18th March
Noise
Barbaric screeching pulses,
a hypnotic beat leads the way,
half words prey out and about,
strings scratch and stutter
and an angel serenades.
Garbage collides with fire,
breezeblock of flutter screams,
distant cries feed fear,
echoes of torture resonate
and a wall implodes.
Eerie waves vibrate inside,
clown music tinkers on,
playful ghouls dance,
layered voices pile in
and form disembodied growls.
Safety dribbles all over me,
the floating keys bobbing along,
hints of the industrial age swell,
whooshing from ear to ear
and opening a vortex of sound.
Bring on the jazz vibe,
the lonely guitar sings,
pinging electronica pings,
madness and beauty swim
and create a dev lab.
