Think before you speak… but don’t take, like, 6 months or something…

It has been a long time. I last wrote about being in a dark hole, and I guess it could be possible that my readers thought I never got out of it. Well, I did, but as a consequence I lost my Voice.

I learned in recent days that failure to communicate can lead to catastrophe. My biggest flaw is my lack of skill in that area. You may or may not understand the concept of ‘white noise’ or ‘noisy head’, but let me try to clarify…

For a person like me, who is naturally quiet and reserved, it is too easy to get lost inside your own head. When there is no fog, you can be snapped out of the internal world and rejoin the real world with ease. But when there’s fog, what is in your head is only noise: the constant hissing, where your brain is trying to filter through that massive muddle of thoughts, where there’s no single voice you can isolate, where there’s no coherent thought of any kind. Which, of course, results in you looking like a catatonic jellyfish when someone asks a question.

This happened to me. It escalated to the point where I almost lost the person closest to me. It wasn’t the absence of proper communication, it was what came out when I tried.  I tried to translate the noise without first being aware, and making my Love aware, that the first words would be the dirt that’s washed off a potato before you get it ready to cook. I couldn’t make it aware, because I was yet to learn it.

But I’ve learned it now, though it caused tremendous heartache for us both.

The moral of the story is, you need to practice. I need to practice talking, and to do that I need to just talk. Say words. Start small, tell someone an interesting observation, send someone a funny picture. Saying something, even if it’s not… whatever the word is for someone having a way with words… because filling the space where words need to be will increase the capacity for more and better words.

I just wish I hadn’t hurt my Love in the process… 😦

via Daily Prompt: Devastation

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Maybe I used to write like a crazy person

I found a thing. An old thing I wrote a long time ago. November 2005 to be exact. I find it to be bizarre… and I wanted to share it.

Like the Dead

Fighting past the barren sky, I fear the trembling… coming again. The lights are out, and I am indeed, alone. I am erased from that which was, and never will be again.

They know nothing, and I do not owe anyone. I have been laid out for them to see, and pass judgement on my frailty. There are no subtle jestures in their eyes, no faith or fiction.

I am cherished in some minds, although the words are delayed. None will spill into this world, they shall but drift unto countless euphoric moonlit skies, and pass through the ages.

Forgotten moments of clarity are what haunt the good. Simple enchantments are innocently cruel, bringing forth torment to those who wish to seek the broken and unholy. They did not give themselves to me; I only wished to share.

They no longer see the darkness in my eyes, yet I can see theirs. Simple twists and turns are reborn; something rather beautiful. I feel serenity in knowing… they are like the dead.

Rest assured, I am always there. Not wanting to be, yet still I remain, holding on to the hope that maybe one day I will be missed. I know that I was less than pure, but I was everyone else but me…

Sorrow depart! There is no time to meddle with such things. I feel the fear rising. Closed within this pale exterior, lies a creature with an unmeasured wealth of beauty…

My mind is blank…

She lies dormant, unwilling to be awakened. She refuses this time, and this place. She speaks; I must return to where the grass is greener, to where the lights are brighter… resist the urge to unstep the forward path…

And so I fall. With a hunger still unsatisfied, I tread the road I have been before. Alone, without heart, yet still breathing, wanting and needing. The dawn has risen…

…and a rose has blossomed.

Finished on 22nd November 2005 at 02:06 GMT

WHAT.

One word prompt – maybe

Hello darkness, my old friend

Any time I see or hear the word ‘darkness’, I start singing a song…

Hello darkness, my old friend… I’ve come to talk with you again…

It’s a song that has followed me since I was a teenager in the 90s, when my daddy the introduced me to the music of Simon & Garfunkle, and Sound of Silence became one of my favourites.

The older I get, the more the song resonates with me. I understand the darkness more, I understand the silence more… because I’ve lived it. And more importantly, I’ve survived it.

I’m gonna let you in to a little secret. I suffered from anxiety and depression on different levels since my teenage years. It got to an almost unbearable level about 7 years ago. That’s when I discovered what real darkness was.

But the silence was the worst part. The silence of my own Voice. I lost the ability to speak, yes, in a literal sense. I was so stressed out I couldn’t communicate in a manner that could be understood by others, so I became isolated. I’ve gone over this so many times in my head since, but I’ve learned to stop the spiral before it takes me over the edge – an enormous achievement on my part. *smug* 🙄

So instead of getting caught in a spiral, I can get lost in a song, knowing I have overcome and just take the words as they are…

Hello darkness, my old friend…

Darkness – http://wp.me/p23sd-12Dc

Random poetry subject in alternate sonnet variation

Over the years, I’ve written poetry on many subjects. Here is one about a Native American woman…

By Midnight Hour

She journeys on by midnight hour
Her heart and soul lie near nor far
With one companion at her side
Still safe from white man’s vicious pride

She’s holding fast the thoughts and fears
To never face again the years
Of all that she has had to hide
Still safe from white man’s vicious pride

Her moon wolf visions keep her right
Revealing her most inner light
The guard’an spirit brings good tide
Still safe from white man’s vicious pride

She journeys on by midnight hour
Still safe from white man’s vicious pride

Written on 20th July 2005 at 02:28 GMT

One word prompt – vision

Here lie the remains

For many years, I have been a musician. But I am the musician who won’t play. I won’t play due to fear; fear of what, I don’t know. I thought the fear only surfaced in recent years, but, as can be seen from the date on this poem, it’s been going on a lot longer than I’d dared to accept.

The Rose is Gone

I cannot sing
My lifeline gone
No Rose of Song
I fear the end

Written on 29th March 2005 at 20:53 GMT

One word prompt – sing

And so it goes, a word blast

Little under 24 hours ago, I wrote my first ‘poem’ since July 2010. I say ‘poem’ because it’s the first semi-creative word blast that has come out of my head in a long time and I’m not quite sure of it. It hasn’t even got a title. It’s just a jumble of words that may or may not come to any sense in the future. But I know it’s the start of the creative mess that’ll be coming soon, now that a trickle has started. The dam will break!

Untitled Word Blast

and so it goes
the sun has ceased its golden song
but in this, our first encounter brought
with it a finer moment’s bliss
and this will I, who chose in me
the same old song
the same old fears
for that which lies in darkness
lies not in these, my deepest thoughts
but when I blow away the flowers
I know that greater is the one that lives in me

Written on 20th May 2016 at 00:02 GMT

Pensive one-word prompt https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/27030/posts/1031822176

I’m so inactive, not very active…

Relating to Inactive by Weird Al (Mandatory Fun, 2015)…

So today I decided to attempt the beginnings of a journey from Couch to 5k. This is something that people do these days isn’t it, Couch to 5k? People who think they’re a tad unfit and want to better themselves?

Now, I’m not an overly large person. I’m short, a little squishy, but definitely not heading to the stage of greasing doorways. This C25K thing is aimed at people like me, those who are slightly inactive and looking to gently start running. Gently. I SAID GENTLY!

“I’m out of shape, I’m fattening up…” – Weird Al

After the first 8 minutes, I felt like something out of Weird Al’s Fat. I walked briskly for 5 minutes, ran for one minute, walked for 90 seconds, and ran for 30 seconds instead of 60 because I was dying. I have to admit here that my ‘brisk’ walking is slow for a snail. And my ‘running’ is slamming each of my feet to the ground while flailing like a demented seagull.

“I’m using my inhaler now…” – Weird Al

The remainder of the 30 minutes was spent limping, trailing my right foot behind me as though it didn’t want to be my friend anymore. I was feeling very sorry for myself; not just because I’d been abandoned by an important appendage, but also at being unable to get through the first day of an easy, totally doable, fitness program. In fact, the only reason I got myself home without just setting up a shack on the side of the road was that there was some nice chocolate-covered toffee waiting for me…

“Don’t tag my toe, I’m still alive!” – Weird Al

In case anyone wants to hear the song in question and feel as flumpy as I do right now!

Word prompt, Healthy