Two recent poems. The first came about as I struggled to complete a different writing project (about the resurrection of Jesus, no less). It's pretty morbid, I know, but at least it's real... That said, I don't like that it never resolves into something positive. In some ways when I read the second poem here, it feels it's a kind of solution to the first... so I thought I'd post them together. Oh, and for what it's worth, if you're an angry person like me, I very much recommend writing as a way to channel that anger into creativity.
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Joy Block
So is is how I really feel,
This crap,
This filth,
This so stuffed up futility of my feeble
fragility that is honestly killing me,
The angering anchoring of my heart to a
horrifically hungering shore,
And perfectly presenting me with some
sad situation that's preventing me from having any chance of sailing forth,
Of getting towards the things I sing
that I am literally, last-legs longing for...
And sitting scrawling these things just
frustrates and breeds hate all the more,
For it poignantly proves
That I actually am right, I'm not just
out the groove
That I actually can write, repulsively
revealed currently by my black bic biro moves...
It's not the totality of the whole art
that's been stopped.
My sublime selfish suffering is simply a
JOY block.
Where do i turn from this babbling
bubble of freakish frustration
When the sum of my brief is to meet with
sheer, sweet celebration...?
Help.
May the blackness subside and the block
finally be lifted
For it's not negativity like this for
which i was gifted...
How long will it be until I finally find
full peace
The kind that allows some real joy to be
really released...?
Breathe Out
Breathe Out
Gripping frustration that
lasts the duration of a drearily draining dim and drizzling day
Mid-temperature, grim and
grey
Necessary therapy of
creativity amidst community, set me free as ‘unwind’ now I say
To myself
Powered by secret whiskey
while cooking for three recently and caffeine cup of tea in parallel
Now what’s that smell?
Subtle dose of sweet
nostalgia
Sprinkled in pinch of
melancholy
Vibrations rhythmic bring
the power
Of cyclic synapse
extensions, these are melodic memories
Animatronic and harmonic,
cold catatonic now let me be
If that is what it takes
Now for my mind truly to
unwind as it illusively imagines casual colour and seismic shapes
All these words on a page
not for any point to make, but simply art for artist’s sake, lifeline of
learned sanity
Cathartic, healing
humanity
Gradually dispelling
undisciplined gripping desire to scream an angry shout
Forcing this rhino charge
back to a measured margin that will let it be, and Breathe Out.
Gradually dispelling
undisciplined gripping desire to scream an angry shout
Forcing this rhino charge
back to a measured margin that will let anger leave and Breathe Out.
Gradually dispelling
undisciplined gripping desire to scream an angry shout
Forcing this rhino charge
back to a measured margin that will pure peace retrieve, now Breathe Out.
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