Tag Archives: letting go

Mid-life stasis

This is no
Mid-life crisis,
No crisis at all.

Instead, I feel
And calm,
No longer rolled tight
In a ball
Of stress, and strife,
Fighting for breath,
Yearning for more

And now
Is the stasis,
No more status quo
Of chasing, and running
With nowhere to go
But round, once more
Mad rush to the floor.

All is still
And quiet, inside
The voices of urgency
Crying loud, like seagull-screech
Deep in chest, they have left
Empty nest, neither squawking birds,
Nor baby chicks crying for food,
No up and down roller coaster,
Just slight shift in mood.

I go up, and down,
And back again,
Always the same,
Dearest of friends,
Round to call,
Yet not the same,
For underneath it all
Is something calm, leaves coating the ground
Multi-coloured nature’s blanket, unraked,
Unneeded, unnoticed, unheeded, but all of that’s
Just noise, background hum,
Sliced through by the tinnitus,
Sound of silence, constant
And when all’s said and done,
Cliche after cliche marching two-by-two,
This one is truer than that one,
My eyes are clearer than yours,
Money pouring from pockets opens doors
That don’t really matter.

Will I ever hear the little pitter-patter
Of un-padded feet?
Is that the aim of life,
Or something else entirely,
Something achingly deep,
Soulfully wide,
Scarringly bright,
That we carefully hide,
As if
To share
That one deep dark truth within,
Would be the greatest of fears realised,
Life’s ultimate sin,
Against ourselves,
Throbbing ache deep in gut,
Or just above,
As if the hole of lonely acceptance
No longer misses the love,
But instead resides – monkey-like –
In chest,
Never to be warmed by soft-armed vest,
The hug of a loved one
Momentary relief
Loves empty crater
Memory of happiness
Slightest of balms
For later, but now all we have
Is the roundabout thought,
The feeling of loss
That itself means nought,
Great empty divide
Basin invisible in the dark,
The playground from hell,
Broken reality,
Healing heart.


Is the place where I sit,
Quietly watching the world pass by
While collapsing slowly, all pretense
Gone, for this is the quiet time
And all of the noise outside only
Reminds me of the quiet inside,
Like a ringing bell or shouting voices
Thudding dully through 2 metres of water,
Breathe held, deep, until lungs and
Eyes burn, then let go in an out-
Ward gush of bubbled exhalation,
Taking the stress of too long held up
Right back, stiff upper lip crumbling
Beneath the weight released, held
For so long day and night, nowhere
To crawl inside and die a little
Only to be reborn, like the phoenix,
Life from ashes, dust to breathe just
As it has always been, from the
A pulse, the rhythm of worklifelove
Everything thumping through my veins,
The pant of my forever breeze, softly
Blowing through colddeepdark chasms
In my mind, just so, yes
This sounds so much like one I knew
Before, the one gone now, forever
Yet far from forgotten, breath held
For another moment, pause in time
The city awakening, corner chosen,
Pop music ringing tinnitus in my ears,
Reminding me of the degredation of
Time, lower back and knees reminding
Me I am not only human but also
Older now,
Am I any wiser?
Is wisdom only holding your
Tongue, to figure it out before
You speak, or is it simply suffering
Enough, for long enough in silence,
Alone, to understand and share all
Else, everyone else’s suffering and
So realise there is no need to speak
Out, for all that needs to be said
And done, will be so, for life works
All things out in the end.

To take part, without
Fighting the flow, to be one
At peace, without
Giving in, rolling over, giving up
Quitting, letting go, without
Falling down, so easy to say
Yet so very hard to do,
Would you not agree?

Yes you.

letting go

Do visual religious artifacts automatically discriminate against those who are blind? Shouldn’t all religion be from the heart, therefore accessible to blind, deaf, dumb or crippled? Doesn’t the visual segregation caused by wearing what amounts to religious ‘gang symbols’ or ‘gang colours’ increase the segregation and differences we feel as humans? Shouldn’t everyone be allowed to interpret their love in different ways, wearing different clothes? Why should everyone pray the same way? Is that not the same as brainwashing? Mindless following ‘belief’ is not the basis for love, compassion, family and understanding, but of difference, fear, anger and hate. Why does anyone need to ‘follow’ anything? Is it not time for anarchy of thought and belief, to step into a void of chaos of self and vision from which either the truth can emerge, or freedom is obtained? Are we not shackled to all of our thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams, beliefs, fears, angers, all forms, shapes and sizes of emotional or psychological strife? Is not ‘letting go’ the birth of true freedom? Should we not let go of everything we hold onto, all that we grasp, to come to understand the true meaning of life? Are we humans, to born to think and breathe on our feet, or are we sheep, to stand dumbly as others preach what we should dowearthinkseehearfeelunderstandlove? If all we do is even so much as listen, truly stand still and listen, to ourselves, each other, the world around us, we may hear the truth, life’s great secrets, being whispered softly on the night breeze. And if not? Well, the worst outcome is that we ‘wasted’ some moments to just ‘be’ in and of ourselves, momentarily letting go of all ‘things’, all grasping. This is true freedom. This is true love. This is true peace. Or at least a taste.

richmond cyclist girl

trip in
to london town
making my way
with the crowds.

i got as far
as Paddington
when I met someone
worth talking to,
for a while.

We spoke for moments
long enough to raise interest
when i walked away
saying, ‘have a good day’
dissapointment in her voice
later resonating
deep inside.

I should have taken
at least a number,
i wanted to, but realised
too late, this was just another
opportunity lost.

Maybe someday soon
I’ll see my Richmond cyclist girl
maybe someday she’ll see this poem
and remember me
by the Bagel Factory.

Just wanted to say,
‘Hiya!’ and sorry for not having the
common sense, or guts
to ask for your number
til it was too late.

I hope you had a really good day.


broken humachine

The sad lost rundown engine
Turns, spinning us off into
An infinity of unknown confusion,
Our forlorn loneliness, just another
Tear, drop in the ocean, heart-string
Plucked, resonating the sound of our loss, deep
Down in the gut of our source, where
We all came from, first pushed, then pulled,
Grabbed, hung upside down for a moment,
That first screaming searing burning blindness,
The first coughing clutch of outside poison air,
The first disappointment, the first
In a line of continuing disappointments,
Our own failings and fate’s cruel tricks
Of giving us precisely what we ask for,
If only we remember those requests made, long
Before we had a clue what the outcome of our
Wishes could ever be, this we take
All in our stride, breath deep the air of
Regret, wonder where the time went
And pray that we don’t end up embittered
Like all the grumpy negative kind, so happy
To be miserable, reminded every day
By their own shit-tinted glasses
How nasty the world is, while
The rest of us carry on, making
The most out of what we have,
Breathlessy running from one extreme
To another, learning forever that karmafatelucksodslaw wins, every
Time picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves,
Off, heading out into the world
Bright eyed and bushy-tailed,
As if the next time the bruises will have healed first, instead of
Compounding rotten emotional fracture with fresh psychological bruising,
Able to get up and carry on, yet kicking ourselves
For being so foolish to think the next time
Will be any different, as if we have forgotten
That first screaming burning blinding breath
Of noise polluted air, poisoned by the very liquid life
That we grasp gasping to the very end,
None of us more terrified then I of dying
Reaching vainly for that last breath, sucking
Ineffectually at dying lungs, weak
From the effects of living, breathing
That polluted air –
When a moment strikes, a man on the train
The melodrama stops, inner voice momentarily stunned into silence,
Like breath held in aweshockwonder at dawn breaking silent
Over a desert mountaintop, this man, at first
Glance, nothing more than a ‘trainspotter’, someone
Lost between this time and tomorrow, mind’s
Eye fogged up with imagesemotions living memories
Taking up all of his mental and emotional
Space, clouding his eyes to what is,
Breath held as we watch him
Sift through a plastic bag of
Old letters, bills, paperwork,
Moving files from place to place, as if
It mattered where each sheet was, forgetting even
As he moves them, one envelope at a time
Why he bothers, perhaps peaking sanity
Up through the depths of fogged consciousness,
Eyes meeting other commuters, seeing enough
To survive, judging benign from dangerous,
Only survival level awareness left, this man
Who once clearly had a ‘life’, just as
You and I, now sits befuddled on a train,
Confused even by his own busy hands sifting
Through his own well-fingered materials,
How many times has he picked up this same envelope,
Looked at it bewildered, perhaps unsure of why he holds it still,
All of the previous memories of holding
This same letter perhaps giving him some anchor
In reality, a touchstone for the remainder
Of his sanity, as we know it, but
Still we stand, holding our breath, watching
The lost movements of a ‘broken’ humachine, lost
But still all there, as much us as we are him, and
We are reminded of the cruelist of life’s mean japes, that
Even the most astute, sharp, aware, in
Control amongst us can slip and fall, for
Something as simple as a misfired neuron, missed timing,
Misconnection primed, made and with repetitious visits,
Ironed into place, the frailty of the human mind,
Human kind only holding onto this ‘reality’ by a gossamer thread,
Waking up one bright loud screaming gasping nightday, working
Endlessly to reach ulterior goals, outside of
Who we are, forever reaching and striving
For the ever disappearing horizon, only
To end up dead, as we all will
Eventually. Until we see him,
Sitting on the train, alive and hearty,
Yet ‘not all there’, out of touch, and
We freeze, remembering how life can be the
Most fickle of bed partners, first searing pain,
Fear, screaming blindness,
Then life’s ups and downs, bumps
And grinds, all in hopes of something better,
Whether in this life, or the next depending on
Prevailing religious views, only to be
Stopped dead, as it were, in our tracks
By a single man, lost as a young child left
All alone by mistake,
Separated from parents
By cruel twist of fate, corner turned
Too fast, another wipeout in life’s 24 hour
Race, reminding us there is more
To life than striving, we live,
We die, we lose, and
We get lost,
This is our life.
This is our premise,
Life’s bitter sweet decline
It all ends in the same terminal
Way, why not enjoy what
We have, before it
Has all gone.