The moderate

I’m the extremist when I want to be the moderate, before I fall for the benign.

I’m the speed of a jet fighter before the sports car, slowed down till I’m cycling on the line.

I am the dead shot in the heart, before the miss of the shoulder, till I fail to load my quiver.

I’m the raging alcoholic where 100 is never enough, 1s to many and none donates a healthy liver.

I’m the trip head lost in a psychedelic dream, the one who will never try that again, before I fall for reality.

I’m the hesitation marks on my arm, before the thought that pain would numb it all, till I fall to the crying in the corner with dark voices in my head who threatened such fatality.

I ride up, I ride down, I’m the moderate that rides around.

D December 2018

Advertisements

Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels

“… This is how it feels when your words mean nothing at all…”

D

Swimming Back To You

I woke from a dream last night where your heart was pulling, me back to slumber for one more embrace, fulfilling.

Now I’m stuck in this dark reality where demons hide in corners, I will swim through the days forays. No play…

… They have gold and guns. I have you, in sleep, now and forever, steal my breath until the very end.

D November 2018

Dem’ Wagons

So I fell off the no smoking wagon after a excellent start but it seemed the end of last week to many fans were having fecal matter thrown at them for me to cope with it all. So start again tomorrow and hope I hold to my next quit smoking session and the dreaded co2 machine.

Hoping for a calmer week so I have enough willpower to deal with it.

Peace D

Yearning

The amount I want to leave you is only balanced by the amount of love we have left burning, is there enough firewood left to deny this yearning. Through all these years it’s been a process of learning, that just maybe it’s all been a charade with me fawning.

I look at what we have brought into this world, I know I should stay just for that, but what happens to a heart in a devils pit. So I stand tall as I can, would you forgive it, if I choose a different path, apart but together.

D November 2018

Wisdom in the Rain

Trails of water slide down the cold window pane, droplets form and split for a lost lovers pain.

My reflection distorted against the black night behind, and on goes the soft clack of wheels on tracks, the train it’s way, it finds.

The neon lighting flickers and droplets for a moment disappear, then the droplets come back, shifted, like the reality you left me in when you never came back.

A blast of wind lashes the formations away, we start again, with a new toy to play.

D November 2018

Pass

Time came to pass and overtook me on the outside lane, I tried to race against it, took it as my refrain.

But these petals falling from the trees cause spots of pain, and I see you, reference, preference, sequenced in the rain.

Time is ahead of me now and I know it will hurt when I get there, but your be able to tend my wounds and care…

…for those last few moments as I take my leave and slowly forget all that I believe.

D November 2018

V for Volunteer

So armistice day has past and no I did not wear a poppy. I know the shock, but I have a very good reason.

My grandfather volunteered for the RAF as soon as the second world war broke out. He was issued with a V for his lapel to distinguish this fact from the constripts. Later in the war he was forced to return the V as it seemed to cause to much friction. So he and the rest of his flight crew punched holes in there new issues of uniforms to show where the V had been.

He was a quiet hero and never collected his medals at the end of the war saying ‘we all bloody got those’.

This may be construed as snobbery but when I see someone with giant poppy on there car bonnet I can see his point. Anyone can buy a poppy but not everyone can actually remember the total carnage of war and how it affectes everyone even to this day.

Peace D

Never quit, quitting…

For the probably 20th time I’m on the wagon with the cigarettes. 42 hours on, so far and only one smoke when someone in the household really stressed me this morning. I’m using patches and mouth spray because I’m so horribly addicted to nicotine but as the hours go by I’m using the spray less. I may just make it.

I was inspired by the fact that my daughter is now old enough to work out why I have to keep ‘popping’ outside. Also I reduced my pain killers for my AS from 30mg of codien to 8! According to my doctor that’s pretty hardcore as codien is harder to get off than heroin and they become ineffective against pain after 6 months anyway (well the pain is shifted to a different area of the brain) Still she said there’s thousands of people addicted to zapain all over the country. I now use ice packs for instant pain relief. It works!

My sense of smell has already improved and I’m breathing easier, I was a real heavy smoker and sometimes you just have to go for it because there is always an excuse not to quit.

As for my coffee … Hands off! That’s my last refuge of addiction.

Peace D

Deadends

So I tried to get focused on prose writing some months back and also started a new blog with the hopes of getting my technical paranoia out on that. Both dead ends as my last two poems have drawn a few likes here on the bipolar by cola site and it was really cathartic writing them. So I guess this where I’ll be… For now (shame I can’t refund the other site though, bipolar overspend again! And the novel remains half written. Maybe that’s a good thing)

Peace D