Why Poetry?

I don’t profess to be a great poet, or even a half reasonable one, but I give it a shot and most comes from the heart. So, I will write some poems, directly onto the page and some I will link to PDF’s, and some I will link to blog posts which have included my muses with my ramblings, where I have typed them up already.

A lot of my poetry comes from my challenges with mental health; stress, anxiety and depression.

The first poem below is one of the first I wrote while as in patient at a mental health facility in early 2019. I thought I would include it as it was published on a UK site for artistic expression by people under going or recovering from mental health challenges. (Please have a look and if it is your thing you may wish to submit something yourself: The Perspective Project)

13/1/2024

Age Forever

Well, that happened quickly My eyes still see the world, The same, when life was a Game, there was still the,

Possibilities of fame,

Then again, I got to here,
In a blink, who would think, The most surprising thing,
I see, is in the mirror.

How I think and fell is nothing, Similar, to the reflection,
I have no objection, to the Fight, to live to that good Night, it’s what it is supposed

To be

Love, spirit and family, Friends and living, so The most you can be, Giving, often hidden or Forbidden, to be kind

To be a peaceful mind, And heart, after every Fall, and new start, a new Hope, to live a life,

Without scope

One where the words we have, Spoke, were a greater
Power, a peaceful hour
Where you made the Connection, too another

Step, towards Perfection

Towards the moment of True reflection, the Glimpse of the infinite,

Enlightenment

It’s the instant point Fleeting, the requirement You realise, you have Been sleeping,

And having your life Without understanding

Or love, when without, Our planning, comes not Froze within, but above, For the space, time and Matter, is gossamer thin

The rest is infinity Our destiny
Our divinity

This is life
It has no age For, it is forever.

6/4/2023

The Gentle Man

Hanging with the old fella
I met his daughter
Not quite so old as me
We chatted

He speaks quiet
and slow
with the accent only living 70 years
not at home can explain

His home feels like home
Memories in no building
It’s the land around
Worked by his hands

He feels like my Dad
Long gone
He is humble
With kind eyes

He shakes hands gentle
In that, you feel his strength
Of many decades dawn to dusk
Work for family

We laugh a lot
He wants but nothing
For all
To just get along

To eat his tea in peace
Sit in the sun
Maybe one day
See his family
So far away at the old home

He’s okay if not
He doesn’t want to be any trouble
He takes that well
An example to all of us

He tells some stories
Not to many, as the old often do
He still sits with the few left
Never makes a fuss
Old mates the same

Wants are simple
Good days with kids
Visiting on sunny days
Warm socks at night

Each morning
An appreciated gift
Everything seen, through wise eyes,
Heart

Lucky me
From the first moment
Friends
Connected by a past
That didn’t change much,
Until now

The love of a lamb chop
Tools and tinkering
Stories told easy
Interesting and interested

I wish I met him sooner
So I could have learned more
Longer chats
Seeing wise

Its the way it is
Easier to accept
With a mate
a gentle man
well lived, quiet life
of true value

3/4/2023

Welcome

We welcome to country
In which we all live
We let our stories die
Of the place born
Through the want of this world

People come
they stay and share
To their little groups
Little buildings
Children
who move away
from what cost a family

All the countries
Are invented
Time makes then
Great or forgotten
Found again

Always realigning
With wars of spear, sword
Gun and Armageddon

Welcome
Histories rewritten
Futures rewritten
Silent voices in pointless halls
That mean nothing
As the voices of the past have
Welcome

2/4/2022

THE TASK

The hair of the old man
Grey to the white of the sun
Fell before his eye

He raised his head
Looking at the small boy
Who had become a man
His son

Slowly, in the measure of speech
For one who had seen much
Being changed from those moments
In heart and resolve

“Shall we do this together
For I shall, in anyway
Undertake this task
There is no shame in declining”

His son stood
“We shall be together
Do this as one
There is no honour in it
Only the task”

The old man stood
Pushed the long grey mat from his eye
Pulling it back hard to the back of his head

He stood
Taller than his son
Diminished in bulk by age
“The let us”

18/2/2023

NOW

It is wise for me to think about the past,
And to learn from the past, but
It is not wise for me to be in the past
For that is how I lose myself.

It is wise to think about the future and
Prepare for my future, but,
It is not wise for me to be in the future,
For that is how I lose myself.

When I lose myself
I lose what is most precious to me.

When I feel guilty over my imperfect past,
Or I am anxious over my unknown future,
I do not live in the present,
I experience pain,
I make myself sick
And, I am unhappy.

The present moment
Is the only reality
I ever experience.

25/9/22 – Posted 8/10/2022

Not a poem, really, but, a muse of a moment in life, that lingers, still, 54 years later.

I am a man and men mostly in living their lives, are shit.

We do need to play football, cricket and fight each other in the play ground; because unlike the movies the bully usually wins and becomes successful and rich; and the rest of us are Marty McFlies.

That was not me; because to my shame I was the bully; but, there is always someone bigger; and I stood up to him; strangely enough alone, because I was not on the bottom of the pile, so I realised in a moment, that I, like all the victims of me and others, I was done, I’d had enough: so I stood up…..

And I woke up a short time later on the ground, regaining consciousness, with my chips stuffed inside a white roll spread all over the ground, and no-one next to me; until an eternity later a teacher helped me to ‘the office’.

In the headmasters office later; I understood the real meaning of power and arrogance. And I lived a moment:

… he and his girlfriend sat there and alleged and swore I called him a black cunt….

and now 54 or more, years later, I have been called a white cunt, a lot of times; perhaps hundreds if not thousands when I was in the Police; yet, I try, yet not once can I recall every using those words with white turning to black; I may have, but it is not something I do…..

So, many years ago, a man I would not dare to hit me, hit me, and told his excuse, which was nothing to do with me, on that day I was just the target…….. and now, I sort of understand.

So, I sat in a room with two powerful people
and I was young
but not afraid as I had the immunity of youth…

But, there was a situation,
Accusations and the girlfriend witness,
Who was my friend,
And lowered her eyes and blushed as she lied,
And I actually understood that….

Now, I realised they were negotiating for a ‘split pot’
Wanting compromise to protect their neglect,
Initial intimidation, then conciliation, then friendship, that becomes desperation.

and…. I replied “Ring the Police”
for there was a crime in a different time and place that they tried to own, but never did…..

And, in history and disappointment, these powerful men learned to listen,

Not to save us both, but themselves;
But, when done:
Later, I was punished but didn’t see it for that,
for I was young and only really learning.

And, on that day it was done, the snow ball rolled down the gentle slope.

Years of small,
culminations of small victories against small people to beat the ones, the institutions, that, since then, and still, they exist and I will always detest.

But, I was addicted and the first was fuel enough without thought of consequence of me…. or anyone.

From that first win, I was addicted.
I was addicted because the one before I did the right thing; and was lost in a system of punishment and power without providence or purpose.

My first adversary is dead; and secondly and firstly, but unlikely, my fault.

I would have rather have had him as my friend for all these years, than the focus of my fear, hating and victory.

I saw him years later, we were old, he didn’t know me, he asked me for money and I gave him $20.00; he died a few months later.

I didn’t win.

23/8/2022 – Posted 8/10/2022

A Little Day

That was a little day
We all have them occasionally
So ending that special time
We say,
Maybe this is
My real life.

It’s not important
Or where fortunes are made
I spent time with people I love
Are where all debts are paid
People of principle
Character.

Mums and Dads people
for mostly that is all we had
A fine time by the river
Being just us
Who we are supposed to be.

I love little days
For they are the largest
In our memory
In our old hearts
Of knowing nods.

18/8/222 – Posted 7/10/2022

Fight

Decide,
To Comply,
Or fight.

Decide,
To Choose,
Your weapons.

Decide,
To Weaponise,
From within.

Decide,
To Weaponise,
From without.

Decide,
If the game,
Is Rigged.

Decide,
How you,
Will Fight.

Decide,
To Win.

7/8/2022 – Posted 7/10/22

I Sit in the Shed

I sit in the shed
Drinking beers
With my mates
We tell stories
and we are The Kings.

Most of the other times
I sit in the shed
Drinking like a champion
To forget.

All the things I learned
From good me
Forgetting
Because they thought I was better.

I let them down
I cheated and lied
I forgot who I was
who I was supposed to be.

Some, were gone
Beyond that
Justifying their
Violence and words.

Creating a culture
A breed
A different
and wrong man.

Hidden in the hotels
In the HiViz
And designer suits
What is wrong with us.

We forget,
We are men,
We forget, us.

Movies of vengeance and power
So much vengeance
Without cause
But the vengeance

We forget our sacred oath
Not taken
But, born with,
to be Warriors.

To Protect
No attack our loves,
or manipulate
Our legacy as not us,
or hurt them
or hunt them
or lie to them
Or create a world that in the great forum we could not stand and be proud of.

Call the name, man
And become but a mouse
Caught in the never ending traps
of our own creation
triggered to the last
denied
blame shifted
in forgotten dignity.

In the regretful end
All emends done
touch your children with love
and warnings
as you never could
Sleep well for, your mother, sister, daughter
mostly for all the women you were born to protect.

Remember the the vow that was born of your soul.
Proud as a Warrior never raising a hand, but to protect.
… or living perfectly
… never having to raise the hand.

8/8/2022 – Posted 7/10/22

We All Held Spears and Were Safe

There was a time
When we all held spears
Clubs ad swords:
Defend our family and village.

It was hard
and our best were mostly lost
with no young to plant and reap:
our crops; and feed us tomorrow.

The village became a town
we had men to fight
men to feed us:
Always wondering the next attack: from neighbours?

It was hard
we fight, we lose, we starve
Our wives and daughters,
Slaves, we starve.

We fight,
We win,
more mouths to feed, we starve,
and the village, now a town, stands,
against others
and we lose
we starve
we win,
we starve.

Then there is a Prince
a King
and all the villages,
the towns eat,
all the crops grow; with farmers….
once who were warriors
Now tilling the soil,
we prosper
we eat
we sleep warm, safe at night.

Life is good
No need for spears
and clubs and swords,
Our prince is our village and town,
We give, to our price, to get more than ever imagined:
Such promise of protection and prosperity.

Our young men,
to be farmers are now the special, the chosen,
They are the warriors of all the villages,
All the towns,
They have from the prince our spears, clubs and swords.

And….. life was good.

All of us were better than any of us.
The prosperity was for all of us,
We were together; smarter, than, any of us:
and, we had;
Peace
Prosperity
Safety
Community
Values
and mostly a warm hearth to come home to: ours.

The villages and towns are still there:
Away, for they were not us.

Some fought and died,
Some fed us all,
Some clothed us all,
A village raised our children.

And….

He came.

For the we was still ruled by a me.
And the me became a them which was not us.
and we were in the fields dying,
the factories dying,
the armies dying,
for villages and towns without names.

For we complied,
Trading our food, spears, clubs and swords, now, long gone;
For our young people,
For our freedom,
Alreading owned; but, given away;
For a sold peace and prosperity we already had.

Now living,
Unarmed,
Unfed,

In a village,
A town,
Unknown.

25/7/2022

The Contribution

That weary day
When we want nothing
But sleep,
But we hold the light.

For it was a good day
And in the night, we know,
It will haunt us,
Undeserving of the day gone of pleasures.

And we wake,
Going through the motions,
Of the expected life,
on and on and on and on

Oh, how it sickens me,
that we are not better,
kinder,
As I wallow in the shit of most hours of light.

I am lucky,
I have family, children, daughters,
Who love me,
and old loves and half sons,
that allow me to leave something better than me.

The world doesn’t get it
or care,
and most of us, you, don’t either,
for what you strive,
is but a sparkle of bullshit
and lies.

So…..
I lament…..
The lies, mistakes…..
The long loves and the short nights……
Filled with dreams of tomorrow never coming.

I bathe in the happiness,
For me,
As I learned to be grateful,
That I lived and may have contributed.

23/7/2022

Wow

as i sit
in confused mind
with love
warming the bed

i realise
i am not lost
but grateful
for all the damage

i get to walk away
from most
it is no real, created
by my selfishness
and that of man

so i get to live
deluded and desperate
to meet
imaginary goals, dreams, deeds and imaginary wealth

i have no dreams
for i sleep
oblivious to my life
then i get to die

to a better plane
but,

Not Yet.

22/7/22

Tiny Street Names

The streets bear the names
Of pioneers and heroes
And families
Important among the forgotten

Those, Children
Of heroes and street names
Not, through no fault of them
Hold us back

The young leave
Or rot in the disappointment
Of parents names lost with grandpas
Forever trapped
By those names
Heroes and lack of
The greater world they made in foreign countries
Lacking the decades later at home

So, as I do not, make the call
Forgetting the bullshit
Finding that friend
Without name or movement

Give way
Drive better
Say hello
For fuck sake smile and look me in the eyes

Read the world
Not the papers or the tiny screen
Us
As fucked are we
Stopped and blamed
Without fixing our neighbourhood
By buying a painting
Not bartering at the garage sale
Wondering why the food bank and Salvos are the best business in town

So better
Why are they sitting in the park
Smelling and drinking from brown paper bags

Is it our heroes failure
Is it because you can’t make friends with the world they left
Or the people in the park
And the many flags we all live under

The heroes didn’t fight for us
They fought for each other
Kids wear their medals and walk in the world they left
Forgetting, they left it so we could be in it together
Sigh for each other
Leaving no-one behind
And defeating tyranny and despots

So, we all get a fair go
So, we understood, courage, loyalty and character
So, we lived their legacy
Not in tiny street names and bullshit parades

The legacy is freedom
Mateship
Loyalty to the values they fought for…..

Not in the tiny street names or the platitudes of heroes.

19/7/2022

Confusion

Confusion!
Shits me!
It’s created
without itself as an orphan

For this world
Relies on the spin
Of nothing
Into something
Watch its,
Confusion!

Well, confusion or addiction
Our excitement……
Our life
For it does not exist.

For it keeps good people:
– Apart
– Fighting
– Competing
for nothing

Except…..

The distribution of power and consumption

So we float
Then die
Lost, and
Oblivious…..

So: be patient
Be peaceful
Be here and now

Then when you stop fighting
You win.

1/7/2022

My Finger Painting for the Rich and Well Dressed

Not so long
After the intermission,
You had,
With me hoping I’m famous enough,
That the beer was boutique,
The wine named and ridiculously priced,
With a careful,
and sensitively chosen collection of,
beverages,
sponsoring wines,
tiny little food thingies,
All gluten and lactose free,
To be inclusive for all life styles.

For this is not the genuine demonstration,
of art, culture and freedom of expression,
I wish, for these are the things I love,
equal to the great fitting suit I am wearing,
the crisp white shirt
french cuffs of course
With the knowledge of how to actually wear cuff links

For the diverse collection
Only has the diversity of the known and rich
Not the diversity of true art
In the street
In the bush
In the ether of the lost

I love art
This is not it
For it has no funding
It has but heart.

7/1/2022

Financial Planning for the Fucked

The new financial year
What arbitrary bullshit
By made up institutions
Trading coins of peoples faces

I have lost faith
In these institutions
Loving the community more
Without the shit of Kings
As I say hello, trading smiles
With an apple from my tree

I am angry
Which is not me
I feel it, letting it go to live on
My name not like us
Was sad as much as loving his dog

Saying it well
Laughing at a card game with me
As I seethed at his
Unheard life

Now that is anger of pen
So many days now
Without punching and yelling
Or ripping the heads off the deserved

So much now, I stop writing.

19/7/2022

Men Of Legacy

Find men
Like You
Good Men
Of character

Protect each other
From bad choices
Have their back
In good ways
To the end
For it all

Protect and provide
for: the weak
the sick
the challenged
women
and lost children

Be a good man
Each day
Especially the bad days
and cry
and love
unconditionally

Be faithful
and strong
Be a man
A good man
for this is our purpose
Our legacy
Our destiny
That is our memory

8/3/2022 – AGE CREEPING

Feeling that age creeping
Old habits are harder to break
I like to smoke
I like to drink
I like to gamble, bet and play poker with my mates

I sit in the shed
Watch my TV
Make ash trays from beer cans
Smoking, drinking and gambling with my life and sanity

My eyes are getting fucked
I work hard
Getting tired faster than I ever used to
I can still work people half my age under the table: and I have a tan like leather

My loves are lost
I miss them
My daughters fill my heart
As they go about their lives, I cherish the fun and moments now, that I missed in the madness of me past

It was fun
and exciting
and heartbreaking
Living that is…..

The alternative is not to be sought because of pain, hardship, loss or failure as it’s inevitability has nothing to do with what you think of it….

It is
But, how you understand it
Accept it
only when you know it is going, no choice of yours

and, then you are gone
from this
No more memories to create
Just the ripples of your existence

I think, and plan
to go with a smile
So unique is each one of us
each life

What happens next is a mystery
That I look forward to solving in my existence there
I will see you
We will meet again, but not today

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I have decided today (14/11/2021) that I will post a few more of my poems. A friend of mine said they enjoyed some I have shared. So I am just going to add them to the top of this page. Below is a little explanation of how my poetry started through mental health issues I was, and still I am, having.

Honour – 12/11/2021

What of honour,
When it cost you everything,
Is that not but honour.

What of love,
When it cost you everything,
Is that not but love.

What of moments,
When that is all there is,
Is that not the moment of honour and love.

What of the dawn,
Is it not but a new begining,
Of infinite moments.

What of the sunset,
When the day is done,
And the forgotten sunrises,
Lost loves and forgotten honour.

What is this that we live,
Love, Moments and honour,
The belief in these as ourselves,
Our true spirit that leads and guides us.

_____________________________________________________________________________

_____________________________________________________________________________

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“Wife”

Don’t ever follow me,
Young man; follow that first love,
When you were young, and everything.

Don’t leave her,
That love,
No matter what tempts you.

Always remember,
When your heart pounded’
You’re stomach churned, when you saw her.

In vulnerable Moments,
When you saved her,
The times when the sight of her,
Took all that was you.

All pain is beaten,
By when you loved,
The most, her,
More than you,
More than life.

All joys come from this,
All love,
All you are,
All you will be.

No matter the what,
The love that came,
For me; for you,
Will always be.

Who I am,
What I could be,
Aways.