Tag Archives: dream

Living With Myself

Lonely park bench
blissful mid afternoon sunshine glints
off puddles that ripple
disturbed by a gentle breeze
A man,
lonely as the bench he calls home
is in deep conversation
with someone only he knows.

They converse for hour upon hour
time, a concept neither respect
or fear.

Tuesday, just another day
much like any other
same park bench
same man
conversing with someone
only he knows.

Early morning mist lingers
unburnt by the suns early warmth
promises of
another beautiful day
in the life of
a lonely park bench.

Still is the air, restful
as the man who slept under
starlit skies.

So soon, the chatter of conversation
fills the void
like the dawn chorus
taken for granted
by the 9-5 army
marching on rations
of cholesterol soaked
bran flakes

“Hello mister”
rubbing his still sleepy eyes
is this a dream caught
between the realms of the real
and imagination
“mister, you ok”
ah, those words
music from a long defunct jukebox
of broken promises.

“want some coffee mister”
“does it come with nicotine”
“whats nicotine mister”
“never mind”
“i’ll ask my mammy”
with that, she skips away
a bird chasing its own song
unemcumbered by life

“mammy doesn’t smoke, sorry mister”
“but you can still have some coffee
cant you”
the last veil of mist
to reveal this day
the most glorious yet

“is this yours mister”
“whats it for”
sure this was still a dreamscape
the man yawned, aware
this was surreal, yet
somehow not.

That strange encounter
saved a mans life today
preventing hypothermia
from taking another innocent life
of a man who is not like you,
from a man who could not live like you
but a man who
Can live with himself.

This came about for a host of reasons. If you know Jethro Tull, you will know Aqualung, a song I find so sad, I tend to shed tears when I hear it. Then there was the old [to a child] man in the park I used to talk to as a bairn, unbeknown of the inherent dangers that would brng about today. And lastly, for the time I spent living rough, where the rest of the word passes by, ignoring the fact that you even exist. Hypothermia is the enemy of the homeless, no amount of paper or cardboard can repel it. Last of all, its for the people, who for whatever reason, spurn the life that the majority of us lead. Their bravery is testament to the human spirit.

A quote from Ian Anderson, frontman of Jethro Tull and composer of Aqualung.

“Aqualung wasn’t a concept album, although a lot of people thought so. The idea came about from a photograph my wife at the time took of a tramp in London. I had feelings of guilt about the homeless, as well as fear and insecurity with people like that who seem a little scary. And I suppose all of that was combined with a slightly romanticized picture of the person who is homeless but yet a free spirit, who either won’t or can’t join in society’s prescribed formats”.


The Box

Sand dances merrily across my vision
Carried by a sirocco’s gentle touch
my minds eye sets upon the darkening horizon
blurred by tears of helplessness
There, shimmering in its secular glory,a
Soft oasis of my salvation

Sealed in its loneliness
singular within itself but
outside of the expected
A box containing
tricks of the mind?

I see you box you
cannot hide, unless
my imagination should collapse upon itself
leaving you alone
only if you
are real?
What is real in this place?
Myself or
The box?
Or neither?

Open, jaws wide beckoning me
seducing me in its shade
Coolness, tantalizing my flesh
yet burning my eyes
singeing my sun bleached hair
one step at a time

The box contains a box
within a box
within a box
within a box
it cannot be so
as that would create

As I languish, lost
in my gaolers laughter
all there was
all there is
all there will be
The Box
the symbol of my nightmares.
Over at dVerse, Victoria Slotto is behind the bar. Tonight/today, she is serving up a prompt of symbolism. So if you have time, please pop along and read some of the offerings there, I know they will be pleased to see you.

Lost and Found

Life is a bitch sometimes and I mean a real BITCH!

I really thought that I was at the end of the tunnel. I could see the light, shining, guiding me away from that dreadful place I did not want to be in. I thought I had done what was required of me. I talked it over until I was sick of talking. I thought it over until I was sick of thinking. I went deeper than I have ever been and yet, somehow, I found a way back. But the voice is back, teasing me and taunting me, drawing me back into that fuckin tunnel and I do not wish to meet what lurks there, not again. Why does it feel like I have no fuckin choice, no conscious say in the matter, fuck, its my life.

I dream a dream. I am back in my shell, protected from harm and protected from doing harm. I dont NEED to exit this shell, I dont WANT to exit this shell, but I must if I am to survive. Thats what is left now, survival. I dont love, I dont hate, I just am, here, sliding back into the dark, one inch at a fuckin time, looking over my shoulder, pleading, begging not to go back there. This time, I might not come out. The flame extinguished, the spark is dead, the fight is over, the race is run and I dont think I have the energy left to run anymore. I am sick of running. The further I run, the closer to that place I get. Fear, real, palpable fear directs the show and I am just a bit part actor, making up the numbers, waiting until that day comes, which it must, sooner or later.

I do what I have always done. I spit my defiance and issue my challenge. You want me you fuckin son of a bitch, you come and get me, I am not on a plate for you.

Its like this every fuckin waking hour. 2/3 of me just wants to give up and let what will be, be. The other 1/3 still shouts and screams and will take on anyone or anything. That 1/3 used to 1/2, that 1/2 used to be 3/4, that 3/4 was a whole number. But the dark chips away, one bit at a time.

So I am there, staring into the void once again, looking for any straw to clutch at, any inspiration I can find. Living with this constantly is a drag and a real drain on energy.

I was lost in, a dream so deep,
No one was there, to help me sleep,
I was lost in, a dream so deep,
No one was there, to help me sleep.

I was lost to, the light of day,
No one was there, to show me the way,
I was lost to, the light of day,
No one was there, to show me the way.

Loneliness, was my only friend,
I could only see, a bitter end,
My life was done,
My life was done.

I was lost in, a lonely place
You were there, I saw your face,
I was lost in, a lonely place,
You were there, I saw your face.

I was cowed, on bended knees,
You reached out, to set me free,
I was cowed, on bended knees,
You reached out, to set me free.

From the pit, I slowly rise,
Leaving behind, the pitiful cries,
My life was done,
My life was done.

I was blind, now I can see,
You were there, to rescue me,
I was blind, now I can see,
You were there, to rescue me.

I was lost, but now I’m found,
My love for you, knows no bounds,
I was lost, but now I’m found,
My love for you, knows no bounds.

Out of despair, you gave me hope,
Every day, you help me to cope,
My life goes on,
My life goes on.

I try to move on, with my life,
Every day, only trouble and strife,
I try to move, with my life,
Every day, only trouble and strife.

I hear the voice, calling out to me,
Taking me back, where I dont want to be,
I hear the voice, calling out to me,
Taking me back, where I dont want to be.

The black is back, to carry me away,
Today I smell, deaths sickly bouquet,
My life is done,
My life is done.

Its been a long road,
My life is done,
Its been a long road,
My life is done.

The flame is gone,
My race is run,
The flame is gone,
My race is run.
My race is run,
My race is
My race

Inspired by a song I heard for the first time yesterday.


I know, I understand, I have a very addictive nature. I become so absorbed in whatever it is that is my current obsession, everything and everyone have little meaning. Maybe my star sign is having an influence on what I am, maybe my family genetics dictate that I am this way, maybe I am just slightly crazy? Who knows? I think I have just about learnt to live with these things, never expecting them to become a reality, just taking them for what they are, a dream, wishful thinking or whatever label we want to put on it. But, no matter what I try, I cannot prevent them from becoming what they become, whatever ‘they’  we are talking about. These dalliances with differing obsessions are now somewhat tiresome. I wish they would stop, but they don’t, they just keep popping up. So I thought, what the hell, lets write about my latest ‘obsession’ it appears to be a pretty decent prompt/muse type thingamabobs.

My latest obsession has been growing to what it is for some time now. I know that much about myself to see what is happening, when, where and how and about what. That doesn’t give me any higher level of control, I just know about it and let it take its course and hopefully come out the other end no worse for the experience.

I doubt/hope, this latest object of my obsessive behaviour will ever be aware of my feelings and longings. My hope is, that by next week, something else has come along that takes my fancy. I think being obsessive about a game, a book or film is fine. When that obsession  turns towards a person, maybe that ain’t quite so healthy? I am not some mad axe murderer or internet stalker, although some may find that hard to believe 😉 just a man who has some weird ideas sometimes and some dreams and fantasies that are pretty harmless.

So anyway, without further digressions, read on

I see that enigmatic smile,
That angelic face, beaming,
A look so radiant,
I cannot, will not, help myself, as
I dive into those eyes, that
See me, yet disbelieve what they

I long each day, for
Just one touch, one
Touch, filled with the electricity, of
A thousand storms, yet,
I am to be disappointed, the
Yearning continues again, and

You know not of what I speak, you
Are oblivious, to
My desires, my
Silent screams, the
Longing to hold you, in
My arms, just

The words upon the page, are
Mirrors of your mood, captured
In the blink of an eye, to
Be preserved, for
Eternity and beyond, the
Click of the lense, will not

From afar I watch, day
Pass into night, yet,
You are close enough to touch, your
Breath, soft as silk, glides
Across this weary stare, glazed
By your beauty, that

My world will end, expire
Never knowing what it is, to
Kiss those tender lips, taste
All that is you, feel
The touch of your fingers, or
Your arms holding me,


This is my obsession, you
Are my obsession,
Fear me not, for I
Could not hurt you, nor
Hate you, I
Only want, to
Love You.