Reeds in the sand

Wind blows the tough grasses that hold onto their sand dunes, waving gently to the vast ocean behind which could swallow them soon.

But still they cling, binding sand and forming land.

For me to stand on top and wonder if it was a temporary error of memory or a black op.

D January 2019

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Will I Make March

My personal plan with WordPress expires in March 2019 and I’ve already had the hassling emails about price increases etc (well technically you now have to pay for the domain on top of the plan, which in my books is basically a price increase).

So though I may have 200 followers, only 20 odd are active and I’m not sure I want to fork out that amount to continuously spout bad Poetry from the mouth of a bipolary. If there’s a free plan I can default to in March I’ll stay, if not we’ll I guess my Web page precence that first started in 1999 comes to an end. To think I once live streamed to 60,000 music fans. How the world turns.

Will I miss it. Probably not. I have made something more precious than net infamy, something that can’t be quantified or packaged and sold. Nor will I let it be indexed here.

{Third week without a cigarette to}

Peace D

The moderate

I’m the extremist when I want to be the moderate, before I fall for the benign.

I’m the speed of a jet fighter before the sports car, slowed down till I’m cycling on the line.

I am the dead shot in the heart, before the miss of the shoulder, till I fail to load my quiver.

I’m the raging alcoholic where 100 is never enough, 1s to many and none donates a healthy liver.

I’m the trip head lost in a psychedelic dream, the one who will never try that again, before I fall for reality.

I’m the hesitation marks on my arm, before the thought that pain would numb it all, till I fall to the crying in the corner with dark voices in my head who threatened such fatality.

I ride up, I ride down, I’m the moderate that rides around.

D December 2018

Yearning

The amount I want to leave you is only balanced by the amount of love we have left burning, is there enough firewood left to deny this yearning. Through all these years it’s been a process of learning, that just maybe it’s all been a charade with me fawning.

I look at what we have brought into this world, I know I should stay just for that, but what happens to a heart in a devils pit. So I stand tall as I can, would you forgive it, if I choose a different path, apart but together.

D November 2018

Never quit, quitting…

For the probably 20th time I’m on the wagon with the cigarettes. 42 hours on, so far and only one smoke when someone in the household really stressed me this morning. I’m using patches and mouth spray because I’m so horribly addicted to nicotine but as the hours go by I’m using the spray less. I may just make it.

I was inspired by the fact that my daughter is now old enough to work out why I have to keep ‘popping’ outside. Also I reduced my pain killers for my AS from 30mg of codien to 8! According to my doctor that’s pretty hardcore as codien is harder to get off than heroin and they become ineffective against pain after 6 months anyway (well the pain is shifted to a different area of the brain) Still she said there’s thousands of people addicted to zapain all over the country. I now use ice packs for instant pain relief. It works!

My sense of smell has already improved and I’m breathing easier, I was a real heavy smoker and sometimes you just have to go for it because there is always an excuse not to quit.

As for my coffee … Hands off! That’s my last refuge of addiction.

Peace D

Deadends

So I tried to get focused on prose writing some months back and also started a new blog with the hopes of getting my technical paranoia out on that. Both dead ends as my last two poems have drawn a few likes here on the bipolar by cola site and it was really cathartic writing them. So I guess this where I’ll be… For now (shame I can’t refund the other site though, bipolar overspend again! And the novel remains half written. Maybe that’s a good thing)

Peace D

Between you and me….

It is not worth remembering, the way you moved the walls, bent the halls, stood so tall… Over me.

I know you can lash out at any time and make me know pain, from insane to sane and back again. Your credentials hold but I do not wain.

I’m heading straight to fortress, the trees make my buttress, you can scorch the land, turn my body to sand…

… But you don’t see my old man watching me from up there, bringing me peace and making it fair.

Keep your faith rooms, while I’ll just keep the faith.

D November 2018

Walk

I have to walk the talk, but when I get there my lips remain shut.

Who am I to shatter the ambivalent nature of my rut.

In densely packed woods I can let out a quiet sigh, just maybe this once I have outrun the spies.

The mud here is perfect for a shallow grave, if they come, but just watching the flailing of my mind is good enough for some.

I put my head against the tree, old oak, older than me. This how I know you don’t need eyes to see.

And in the distance the bark of a dog … I have to walk the talk … Just to lose myself and drive myself out of town with a pitch fork.

D November 2018

Small Wins

So I went swimming today and managed a few lengths, despite my AS killing me in the shoulder and spine and the fact there were other people in the pool. It’s not that I don’t like people it’s just there random and unpredictable. I love good company but go into meltdown whenever I’m near to many. Ironically I used to be a party person surrounded by dancing nutters to loud drum and bass.

How things change.

Anyway if I make it again to the pool I might actually qualify as someone who swims! My god a hobby that isn’t based on technology.

Oh and the pool shower has turned my hair into a cloud again, maybe I should also practice at man who gets his haircut.

Peace

D