Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
These are dark days,
I’m not built for a world at war,
We tolerate too much,
We implement fools,
Knowing full well that they are the pigs,
Those who left the Animal Farm*,
Fatted and now feeding on the world.
*Animal Farm" is a satirical allegorical novella by George Orwell, first published in 1945.
Late at night when the sounds of the world quiet,
When the hum of humanity dims and darkness falls,
Clarity and retrospect shine spotlights on my ghosts,
Behind the mask of a day, behind an easy smile, or friendly laugh,
Cold eyes lay, disguising a damage within too broken to mend,
It’s dark inside the well-trod hollows of the mind where only I go,
Deep within the warren of tunnels, my memories lay buried,
They are all I have, both my moral compass and my foundation,
They’re the building blocks of great walls forged as a child,
My outer veneer is smooth, cool and fake, my words are well-trained,
A smile hides countless hidden pains, each a lifelong mortal wound,
So be sure when you step behind the curtain that you understand,
This is not a gameshow, it is not PG, this story was already written,
Long before the performance was viewed.
It’s a just a day like any other for most,
But I feel spent, hollowed out, drained,
Sitting on my couch, the day seems insignificant now,
As Siouxsie sings of Cities in Dust on my turntable,
I notice how a day in the city weighs heavy on me,
The work itself isn’t (always) the problem,
It’s the emotional energy of getting and being there,
It’s taxing, spicy anxiety and doom coping, sap everything,
My brain is constantly in self-defence mode,
By afternoon, when I again breath country air, I’m done,
I trip to and fro across a fine line between tears and sleep,
City and people in large amounts are a big stress that I struggle with,
When did I become this whiny old bitch,
I have good job, and a great team of colleagues,
But I feel eaten up and spat out, and I’m tired of it all,
But there shall be no rest,
Because,
It’s a just a day like any other.
Moments appear from nowhere, creative portals forcibly open,
Some call it inspiration, I call it, mandatory participation,
Moments when we MUST create something, anything,
To do otherwise is uncomfortable, it cannot be ignored,
So, we create.
The telemetry of happiness is not set in stone,
While the day to day shadows ebb and flow,
They constrict and entwine, then all thoughts tangle,
Inside our shadow, we follow any negative angle,
Life passes us by, forever creeping on,
Before you know it you’re wondering where life has gone,
Time is meaningless here, as it spirals into black,
Lost too long in my shadow, makes it hard to get back,
For the comfort of sadness, provides powerful longing,
When lost in a shadow, it’s only ourselves we are wronging.
After the senses are confused by a fool’s interactions,
Recovery unveils a sombre, but clear new outlook,
Clarity shows, the best that you could do was not enough,
Wasted energy, thought and emotion, time lost to futility,
Unseen efforts in vain, understanding comes from a life lived,
Some are reminders of truth, in a world fabricated for coping,
Others take, some listen, but we are all just ghosts of our past.
Today I try to seek calm in turbulence,
Find respite during confusion,
Sleep, because the night failed me,
And peace, despite its detractors.
Don’t put your words in my mouth,
I see you, what is your endgame,
Don’t bend my words to fit your purpose,
My expression is my own, know your station,
Don’t assume we’re even on the same platform,
This bullet train takes no passengers.
Some days I wish I could go to bed and just evaporate, it’s a useless fucking world to be a part of.
I’ve noticed that the older I become, the more clumsy and weak I get, I repeat fucking stupid things and keep doing it.
I repeat the things I say so often without knowing who I told them to, until I my wife tells me she’s had enough of hearing the same fucking thing over and over, I feel like I’m losing my mind.
Time has zero relevance, I feel like I’m floating mid air on an elastic time continuum, one day it is Saturday, and the next it’s a week later on a Thursday and my name is now Jim.
This shit is never going to get any easier.
Spare a thought for today,
As it relentlessly endures against the odds,
Battling ice, sunshine, and storms of wind and rain,Â
Cast into service, eventually succumbing to darkness,
Enslaved, doomed to repeat it all again tomorrow,
Spare a thought for today, for it’s a lot like you and I.
Dan Verkys 