The walk is slow, long and tedious. But none rush to get there faster. Tears flow in ceaseless err.
A loved one is gone… to laugh no more.
A life is done… to begin unknown.
Sorrow overcomes a world of joy.
A loved one is lost… to be found no more.
A life without cost… to the mound we go.
Reddened eyes and weakened smiles. The untimely passing a test for all to endure.
With legs of jelly we journey more, clutching at chests fearful and sore. The days have begun to melt into one. The never-ending nights when I felt you before I saw the sun. The picture perfect memories that're flashing before my eyes. The mighty gust of wind: to push you from my sight.
To rest… if only for a little while… to rest…
14 June 2010
Picture Perfect Memories
Looking at my world through someone else’s eyes, it’s what you see me as. It’s your perspective of me and the world you find me in. but it’s not me… it’s a juxtaposition of angles, differentiation of light and nostalgia. It’s me in contrast to my surroundings.
Day in and day out we become strangers living in the shadows, unknown to each other. We’re fighting to stay relevant in an inadequate world. We stand on the side-lines to see it all fall apart.
My needs you can’t satisfy, let’s not play this all too familiar game of blame. We overcompensate to keep our heads high in the torrential rain. This world of lies we’ve created will kill us from within. Disregard the good because the bad out-weighs it all.
Back then I was naïve. I still am… and if I stay I’ll forever wonder what could have been. The ‘what-if’s’ will loop in my mind and I will forever be naïve.
My heart is on your sleeve… it’s yours… to do with as you please…
Day in and day out we become strangers living in the shadows, unknown to each other. We’re fighting to stay relevant in an inadequate world. We stand on the side-lines to see it all fall apart.
My needs you can’t satisfy, let’s not play this all too familiar game of blame. We overcompensate to keep our heads high in the torrential rain. This world of lies we’ve created will kill us from within. Disregard the good because the bad out-weighs it all.
Back then I was naïve. I still am… and if I stay I’ll forever wonder what could have been. The ‘what-if’s’ will loop in my mind and I will forever be naïve.
My heart is on your sleeve… it’s yours… to do with as you please…
Re-dial
“I’m just a phone call away,” he whispered sweetly, kissing her forehead and chasing away her fears.
Each time the line would disconnect.
It’s just a ghost town of lights and swaying trees. A lonely man walks on the side of the street. In his hand he holds the hand of the one he lost. The ringing stops and a voice can be heard: “Your call could not be completed… The subscriber you have dialled no longer exists…”
Each time the line would disconnect.
It’s just a ghost town of lights and swaying trees. A lonely man walks on the side of the street. In his hand he holds the hand of the one he lost. The ringing stops and a voice can be heard: “Your call could not be completed… The subscriber you have dialled no longer exists…”
The Voices in My Head...
The white walls no longer seem scary as I walk to find my next test subject.
My clipboard in hand I sit across from her. She stares off into oblivion and I have to shield my pitying face with my very own clipboard, it’s just the silly cardboard kind but it does the trick.
Taking a deep breath to compose myself I set my pen and clipboard silently on a low coffee table between us. Her hair is dishevelled and her clothes are miles too big, but I don’t think she has yet realised this, nor do I think does she know I am here.
“My name,” I begin slowly, “is Ms. Wonderland and I have a few questions to ask you,” I say gesturing to the clipboard. “May I begin?” she nods awkwardly at my question, leading me to proceed.
“Please state your name for the record,” she answers plainly with just two letters: NJ.
“You have made claims of hearing voices, are they just that or are they personalities? I mean is it just sounds and voices or do you believe they are entities created by your own mind?” I try to simplify and know I’ve failed.
“There is more than one,” she states and I’m led to believe she is more lucid than I first thought.
“Would you please elaborate,” I ask gesturing for her to continue.
“The first... I’m not sure of her name,” she quickly states as I nod pen poised over clipboard ready to jot down the names and personas of NJ’s inner psyche. “All I know is that she is the mother of Peter Rabbit, she’s very bossy. She keeps telling me to stay out of the farmer’s fields. She once tried grounding me for not listening to her mothering tales.
“The other is an insane French flower child, who is too wild for her own good or mine. She goes by the name Anony Mous and she keeps leading me down the paths closest to the farmer’s fields. But who could blame her when the farmer grows this herb that manages to make it all right. I think she takes advice from the voices in her own head.”
I sat pen still poised over clipboard, speechless at what this patient just revealed and stunned that as she spoke she mimicked all my movements (even the subtle ones) perfectly.
My clipboard in hand I sit across from her. She stares off into oblivion and I have to shield my pitying face with my very own clipboard, it’s just the silly cardboard kind but it does the trick.
Taking a deep breath to compose myself I set my pen and clipboard silently on a low coffee table between us. Her hair is dishevelled and her clothes are miles too big, but I don’t think she has yet realised this, nor do I think does she know I am here.
“My name,” I begin slowly, “is Ms. Wonderland and I have a few questions to ask you,” I say gesturing to the clipboard. “May I begin?” she nods awkwardly at my question, leading me to proceed.
“Please state your name for the record,” she answers plainly with just two letters: NJ.
“You have made claims of hearing voices, are they just that or are they personalities? I mean is it just sounds and voices or do you believe they are entities created by your own mind?” I try to simplify and know I’ve failed.
“There is more than one,” she states and I’m led to believe she is more lucid than I first thought.
“Would you please elaborate,” I ask gesturing for her to continue.
“The first... I’m not sure of her name,” she quickly states as I nod pen poised over clipboard ready to jot down the names and personas of NJ’s inner psyche. “All I know is that she is the mother of Peter Rabbit, she’s very bossy. She keeps telling me to stay out of the farmer’s fields. She once tried grounding me for not listening to her mothering tales.
“The other is an insane French flower child, who is too wild for her own good or mine. She goes by the name Anony Mous and she keeps leading me down the paths closest to the farmer’s fields. But who could blame her when the farmer grows this herb that manages to make it all right. I think she takes advice from the voices in her own head.”
I sat pen still poised over clipboard, speechless at what this patient just revealed and stunned that as she spoke she mimicked all my movements (even the subtle ones) perfectly.
04 June 2010
Happily (n)ever After
Did Cinderella and Prince Charming live happily ever after?
Did they learn to compromise?
Did she reprise her role as cleaner and house maid, cleaning up after him?
Did she live happily ever after by ditching his ass and finding true love?
Did they find their soul mates in each other?
Were they content to live with each others’ failings and learn to build each other up?
Did she take her knowledge of house tending and he his knowledge of princedom, combine it and build a life together that was uniquely theirs?
Did they learn how to make each other happy, how best to get the other to smile when life seemed to barrel at them?
Did she marry him just to escape her family?
Did he marry her just to show people that he could slum like the rest of them?
Did they lose themselves along the way?
Does happily ever after exist in real life or is it just ‘the stuff fairy tales are made of’?
Did they learn to compromise?
Did she reprise her role as cleaner and house maid, cleaning up after him?
Did she live happily ever after by ditching his ass and finding true love?
Did they find their soul mates in each other?
Were they content to live with each others’ failings and learn to build each other up?
Did she take her knowledge of house tending and he his knowledge of princedom, combine it and build a life together that was uniquely theirs?
Did they learn how to make each other happy, how best to get the other to smile when life seemed to barrel at them?
Did she marry him just to escape her family?
Did he marry her just to show people that he could slum like the rest of them?
Did they lose themselves along the way?
Does happily ever after exist in real life or is it just ‘the stuff fairy tales are made of’?
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