I once fell apart,
Like a scattered jigsaw puzzle,
When I put myself back together,
Some pieces were missing.
Once I fell apart
New site additions
Greetings,
As a departure from my dreary poems of woe, I thought I’d add a new section referencing my visual art activities. As a further move away from social media, I’m hoping to broaden this site to be even more self indulgent. I’ll eventually add some audio related info, but for now, I’ll add a little and add things as I go.
A ‘Visual Art‘ link has been added in the menu above and as the title implies, it shows some of the various visual aspects of my work, I’ve mentioned before that my love for digital art has soured since A.I spoiled all fun. I took it as an indicator to seek artistic enjoyment elsewhere, as a result I try to spend more time (de stressing) away from PC screens, either out in my studio painting chaotically, or quietly drawing and listening to records.
Your Everyday Smile
Your everyday smile,
Warm and genuine,
A source of light,
I watched helplessly,
As hers was erased,
The day you had to go.
The Furthermost Point
I feel that I am at my furthermost point in life now,
To help you understand, let me paint you a picture,
Close your eyes, visualise a vast solid black square,
A thin fibrous fading white line, lays perfectly straight,
Extending from the very edge of the black expanse,
Terminating at the centre, as a small emitting white dot,
That’s me, this is my current location, my headspace,
Currently unwell, intentionally disconnected, and very tired,
I am people tired, self-control tired, talk tired, and sick of ‘the show’,
Where do I go from the centre of my furthermost point,
I simply do not know.
Manor Farm?
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.
Darkness Falls
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.
A day like any other
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.
Urge to Create
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.
Lost in a Shadow
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.
Ghost of the past
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.
Dan Verkys 