UNFINISHED (Gonna Get To You)

This poem inspired the track "Gonna Get To You" by the band Kraftberk101, who sent me a copy that I have since misplaced. Performed in an industrial-techno sort of way, the track lyrics differ from this poem and are darkly ambivalent, unlike the poem which I think is forthright and easy to interpret. If I come across the CD I'll let you have the track and its lyrics. Hear it here...

(An actor)

Your sickness is inside of you

trapped within your head,
distraught with insecurities,
irrational instabilities
are signs I always dread.

With childish eyes - implicit faith
to me you'd run in pain,
I'd never know our meeting place
you called - I always came.
Your breath it smelled of medication
your hair of almond oil,
clothes dishevelled,
yellowing teeth,
the outside world was seen through me.

I do not hate you.
I did not let them see you die.
I never left you Chessy.
My love it could not lie.

I stood by you Largactil bound
tried to prove you wrong,
bought you a hat so you wouldn't burn
walking in the sun.
Through slurring speech,
fantastic thoughts,
I loved you then so strong,
determination every day;
"let nothing more go wrong".

Time has passed and you've struggled back
but here we stand again,
the crossroads from which this time;
we'll follow different lanes.

Personal comment - the poem above is from my real life. It covers a frightening and traumatic time for both of us; for myself, the helpless and useless and emotionally attached boyfriend riddled by guilt and years of nightmares.

For 30years we had this common secret, but a chance meeting gave up forgiveness and resolution by a recovered patient, happily married with two children.

On our medically dictated route there were good times and very bad and along the way numerous notes (poems) were written by me. I now feel free to let you see some.

LOVE HURTS (TROUBLED TIMES)

If you think of dying

don't leave me alone,

tell me in the morning,

or warn me on the phone.

If you want to leave this world,

just want to get away,

I think I'd like to come along,

but maybe not today.

If you want to leave me

try to tell me why,

so I can understand you,

as I begin to die.

Though you have your troubles

and suffering we are,

call me anyway,

we'll chat in the car.

Above all else,

and this is paramount,

know you are my Chessy

and loved without a doubt.

There was a short period of rationality but soon enough a relapse that was as unexpected as it was rapid. I was quickly and abruptly appraised of an uncertain prognosis. 

FALLEN ANGEL

A broken angel,

down on one wing,

first lost resilience

then entered a spin.

Crashing to earth,

dazed and confused,

she patched up the crack

alighted and flew.

But seeming quite healed,

the crack reappeared,

and she crashed to the ground

worse than was feared.

The angel is down,

the angel is down,

someone please help me;

my angel is down.

We tried; continuing to have ups and downs and even spoke of splitting up, but loyalty to each other over-rode what we both (I think) knew was happening.

LETTER TO A FRIEND

We have felt it before;

to others we have opened our being,

souls and hearts,

and it hurts

when it ends,

a duet of hearts

coming to a close

for the entrance of loneliness,

the opening of old memories

and wounds,

giving up the puss of remembrance

and self-pity;

but not for us!

lest we scrutinise this bondage,

picking its meat

'till skeletal, lifeless fact remains;

for mystique and mutual unspoken understanding

still warms our hearts;

to nurture love and truth

as one.

Ups and downs,

backwards and forwards: a child on a swing,

mother waiting anxious for his return to ground;

I may swing with moods

but I must come down

to walk on the ground beside you.

Our difficulties continued for a year and I began to go down with our ship. I knew I wanted to jump but thought I would be judged a bad person for what self-preservation wanted me to do; I saw no improvement however and decided it all had to stop. I needed to walk and I felt a right bastard afterwards.  AFTERMATH came to me when I needed to concentrate on a new (life long) career.

AFTERMATH

I can see us drifting apart,

I can see a fond farewell,

a bitter-sweet

on a screen in the back of my mind.

I feel sorrow deep inside

apprehensive and tense,

not wanting a conclusion

for fear of an awful truth,

not knowing what will happen,

not knowing what I want to happen.

I feel lonely,

a spectator at my own loss

as the wedge of uncertainly

drives us apart.

With the final split, an anger born out of a depression joined me for months; this anti-woman piece became my mantra and I cared not for anything or anyone.

DEPRESSION TALKS

For the twisting of feelings,

the deceptive ease of use;

for the guilt I've felt

and the switchback affair,

and festering resentment in its throes of death.

For all this

and fears of uncertainty;

womankind I dismiss.

Life was bad at this time, a long time ago, and this poem with others of its ilk were all written around the same time;  I am revealing them now as I look back, with the original emotion(s) neatly and securely "boxed away".

WHAT'S THE POINT?

The point of life seems to be to get by.

To move from day to day,

wandering to a time of longing.

Nothing seems controllable anymore,

I seem to mime other people's wishes,

and wonder where I've gone.

Ambitions, love or happiness and caring,

all blunted, bludgeoned and twisted to coarseness

as dictation moulds my life and bolsters my sadness.

After I walked away, an act of self-defence, the sorrow eased, then this memory of a happier time came to mind; melancholic but somehow comforting.

A MEMORY

Shimmering blue-green lagoons of tranquillity

stared into space,

and wondered,

Am I a good Christian?

Moist and supple lips of sensuality

mouthed to the world

need I do more?

and I answered no,

for I thought that,

and I loved you;

and you kissed me.

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