To be a “Hero”

It’s the middle of the night, you’re out, walking. Trying to clear your head after a rather heated argument when you hear a woman cry for help. You look and you can see it’s coming from a little grove of trees, just off the path. The path you’re on isn’t the most well lit path in the first place, but that?

That’s far from any beaten path and pitch dark, as it is you can only see it due to the shadows cast from lights on the other side, which doesn’t help you much. Looking at your phone you see that you’re out of minutes and the battery is about dead, but the woman is screaming for help, loudly.So you rush off, towards that darkened path, shivering a bit in the chill of winter, you should have wore a heavier coat really.

Heading closer you start to notice something, after about three cries of “Help! Someone! Please Help!” there is a pause before it starts again, exactly the same, the tone, the volume, all of it the exact same. You slow your pace but it’s too late, you see them too late as they come of the little wooded area, one of them actually having a net and tossing it over you as you feel a small prick, a little pinch in your arm. Looking down you see what looks like a dart sticking from you before you suddenly become exhausted.

Looking up you see the silhouette of three men standing over you, with just enough light to make out a smile. “We got one boys, this one should sell for a pretty penny. Told you it’d work.”

Leaning down he grabs your hair to pull you up “They never can resist the chance to be a hero.”

Leave me alone

I need the voices to leave me alone.

I’m sick of all the screaming, I’m sick of the clawing cloying creatures clamoring for clarity.

I’m tired of trodding through trenches that tremble and shake such screaming sirens to saunter through a sick and soiled psyche.

I’m sick of all the screaming, the creatures crying and clamoring, the screaming and the smoke and all the pain between, I’m tired of a scratchy skull and smoldering soul. I’m just so, so tired…please, please let the voices for once leave me alone…let me be so so for once silence might be known.

Fear of Sleep

I would sleep if not for fear of dreaming.

It is not terrors that I avoid by leaving open my eyes. No, it is smiles and light and that feeling that avoids me in waking lands.

That warmth I’ve never known, that care for me that has never been shown. I fear the good seemings, those wonderful dreamings.

That is what leaves me awake and with a fear of sleep.

The idea of knowing a lover that was and might never be, a ghost that I’ll never again see.

That is why I won’t rest my eyes for even a short while, as to know that warmth and smile and lose it so fast.

It fills me mind, body, and soul, with not but rot and bile.

Stranger Hue (Something New)

I see upon a tree leaf green, a speck of a stranger hue, a stranger color, something truly new.

That stranger speck that strange new hue, brighter than Autumn’s red, bolder than Autumn gold, it glittered in that strange Fall dawn and was something few would be brave enough to know.

I did dare to see, I did dare to find that color so new and so strange, and it filled my sight and filled my eyes and wet my weary and parched soul.

Now if only I could, if I only I will find that stranger hue, that stranger color, bolder than an Autumn gold and brighter than I brightest crimson. If only I could find that stranger hue, that stranger color I never could say I knew.

Oh to show the world what that green leaf did share that day, something so bold and bright and new. Wouldn’t that be something bold to do?

Truly something to brave, the task to share something so strange and so new on that Autumn dawning, that fall day, oh to be so bold, it indeed would be something new.

My Mind (No Translation #3)

I stands alone on a broken shore, and Us is there no more, the We They were is gone today but here tomorrow though They never really were at all. Me is there but I is gone and never to be here again, for the We I was is gone today, to come again tomorrow, at least that is what They say. So yet I stands on the broken shore, where Us never was to be, and Me is all but gone, just a broken memory.

On Preconceived Notions and Utter Bullshit

I’m honestly not sure if the title to this post is even remotely acceptable but its not going to be another poem, I feel like actually talking today so here we go.

People seem to have a lot of preconceived notions on how others should deal with their emotions. How someone should love, how someone should show they care.

How someone should grieve, how and for what reasons they’re allowed to be sad or even depressed.

I’ll tell you right now, its all bullshit. People, some people, not everyone but some, have this idea that bad things happen and then you just, restart, hit that little button on the side power back up and put a smile on.

That doesn’t always work. There are days, there are days where I think to myself, I’ll admit, I grieve, for being my idea of a fuck up. I don’t know how to even start going about fixing it. There are days that I look at myself, and I wonder where did the me that loved actually living go off to die and replace him with this drone that carries on?

There are some things, some losses in my life, that I don’t feel fully comfortable sharing on a public forum. It seems far too much like attention seeking for my sense of comfort, but I will say, that when you lose someone, that doesn’t stop, it doesn’t end. That process, that grieving process people say comes to a close eventually? It never REALLY does, there are days that, at least for me, I wake up and I think of one of those people and I still, years later, wish it was just a joke. Something I could fix with a quick call on the cell phone and talk about how odd that fake funeral of theirs back in whatever year was, I’ll avoid using actual dates, for the same reason.

Though I must say, I can’t help but feel that this idea that talking about them, talking about their death, lets call it what it is for once instead of using the word loss or passing, is somehow wrong of me. To call it attention seeking, would likely be adequate, to some extent. Even if it only is for my own attention, to draw my own eye to my scars that somehow popped open, we all share things in hopes people will care. There is, in my mind, nothing wrong with that, and this sense of shaming that we have, that “oh they used their loss to get attention” is such the wrong way to approach it.

They wanted attention, needed attention because they hurt, it is not somehow wrong to need attention, to need help. To want someone to talk to you and really, truly care. That’s just being human, being alive.

So really, what I guess I want to say is if you’re grieving, while my loss is likely not the same as yours, and perhaps not as recent, I have scars from that too, and I can say in all honest that I do care, and that I feel that when people have reached the point that they, not in so many words but in actions, feel it is time to move on, to get on with your life and stop crying, I have to say that’s just utter bullshit.

Yes, you should continue living, it would be doing the one’s we lost a disservice to their memory, and it would be doing irreparable harm to the ones still alive to do otherwise.

Move on however? How? How long does it take to move on? I’ll admit I sure as hell haven’t, not completely, but how long is too long? Is there a list? Check here and fill out form b 112? That’s not how it works, that’s not how life works, no matter how many people want or wish it would behave otherwise. You grieve, as you need to, you try to find all those pieces that might be shattered and missing, and put that back together as well as you can as you try to keep going forward, regardless of how heavy that weight is, and you do what is right for you. I can’t say for sure if you ever stop hurting or not, I can say there are days you don’t think about it quite so much, life has a way of taking your mind off the past, but there is also days were I at least, feel almost guilty, for still going forward, for trying to move past that point in my life, and I turn around and I see it and I realize they never got the chance to move on, they stopped, that was it.

So you grieve as YOU need to grieve, and take the time it takes YOU to put yourself back together, and  when you’re finally able to move forward because YOU are ready to take that step, make it known, ask those around you for the support you need and take that step. Share your grief and pain, make sure you’re not alone unless you truly need the solitude, and if you do need it, make sure you remember you don’t have to be alone. Also though, remember that just because someone else thinks you should be ready to start being OK again does not mean you have to agree.


That’s really all I wanted to say, I blame books for this but I just had to get this off me, it was weighing me down. Thanks for reading, and I do hope you find the way that is your way.