Reflective Words

Soliloquy of the Adoptee

Born into an uncaring world, A fearful father who abandons his lover

A good little catholic girl torn in two, Wondering and unsure what to do

Gives the child up thinking it’s for the best, Little did nor does she know

A social worker looks at wealth, Instead of checking mental health

A childless couple seeking to escape societal shame, Thinking the womb to be lame

Three years on they have a child of their own, Off to the shelf with the old toy

The rage of rejection flourishes and grows, As the adopted one sees that which he gets not

Hugs and tucked into bed for their own, Inside the adoptee feels so alone

His anger at the woman he calls mother grows, With every tiriad of her blows

High expectations and a nice dose of shame, As the adoptee is told he could do better again

He speaks but is seldom heard

Food, drawing and excess of adrenaline are his comforts, As he recedes from life and family

By 7 he’s had enough and attempts to flee, Back home to an unmemorable response

By 10 he just wants out and thinks to end it all, Fear stops him in his tracks from under a car taking a fall

Angered and embittered the adoptee grows, A shroud of shame for clothes

How would his life growing up have been, If physical nurturing for him had been seen

Thunderstorm

A placid young boy by outer appearance

Seemingly responding at times with indifference

A thunderstorm explodes from the depths of my heart

Temporarily from my conscious reality I depart

A momentary vacation as endorphine overtakes

Pent up rage floods me as the dam’s wall breaks

A release of stored venom and hate

Realising what I’ve done after it’s too late

A view before me of a person on the ground

From which a respect based in fear is found

Peace In A Bottle

My mind drips desire; confined and overtired

Living this charade; growing weary of this life of playing hard

Oblivion beckons and calls “come hither, come be free”

Momentary peace in a bottle slowly drowning me

Awaking to tears without feeling attached making no sense

Continueing to play the game out despite the evidence

Selectively deaf to others words of trueth and observation

Crawling into a bottle, exiting reality for a temporary vacation

Selectively blind to my own actions, seeing only what I want to see

Drinking problem? No, not me!

Minotaur

Wandering through a maze of mixed messages

Trying to loose myself

Carrying my feelings around locked deep within

Feeling like an old toy retired to a cupboard shelf

Heavy of heart and mind, lost in the fog of a liquid haze

Carrying the softer side forelorn as a loadstone through the maze

Breaking Out

Dropping the bottle for a magical, mystical voyage

Heading for the sky to soar on the winds of life uninhibited

Part of a brotherhood, a tribe Following the horse on a journey

Embracing the elements of a desperate land

Contemplating visionary ideas oh so grand

Washing away the war paint and breaking the masks Ignoring the cries of “conform and join us”

Standing upright, free and proud

Embracing individuality not the crowd

An overwhelming sense/feeling leaves me numb and strange

Sensing a new beginning as I feel a wind of change

Where Do I Belong?

Where do I belong? What planet am I from?

The feelingt of being like a fish out of water is strong

At times feeling like a stranger in a strange land

Longing for family and a sense of purpose

Is wanting to know who I am so wrong?

Still Breathing

Well here I am still breathing

Marching on with my heart still beating

Travelling onwards upon my path

Revisiting issues of my past

Past meddling and metamorphasising in days present

Regretting paths I’ve taken that I wish I hadn’t went

But for some of my experiences I have no regrets

Of ifs and whens and the money I might have if not taken bets

Flickering imagery on a screen prompt a small well spring of emotion

Many lovers had and lost and of love I have but a small notion

Still breathing with my heart beating

Regrets can be so fleating

Searching

Transending memories of less proud moments

Disregarding falsehoods and pretence

Exploring, searching for the real me

Embracing all that I can be

Returning to and restoring a faith of old

Letting go of my liquid shadows’ hold

Asking myself who am I?

Wishing to spread my wings and fly

Looking to the future and not the past

Wanting to get there fast

The Journey

I’ve travelled a few highways, I’ve walked down a few roads

I’ve seen and experienced some rough days, I’ve experienced life in many ways

Masks and falsehoods to fit in, Sad inside but outwardly a grin

Sex, drugs and alcohol all to escape, A canyon on the inside did but gape

An emptiness from within, Seeking, seeking to fill the void and fit in

A mixed up little boy in the body of a man, Almost ending up in the can

A desperate grasp for help clutching at straws, To evade and avoid a lifestyle’s jaws

A slip, a stumble, a fall from grace, Time and time again returning to the same place

Finally a drop of the penny, And off to trudge the road of happy destiny

Reminiscing

Reminiscing on days now and past, Of a taxman who took a government car for a blast

Of wine, women, and fleeting romance, Of a doorman doing many a flirtatious dance

Of racing around in others cars, Of an artist and voyeur travelling through cafes and bars

Of selling hats and playing santa claus, Of a graphic designer receiving friends applause

Would I change any of it if I could, NO...they are my experiences for good

Ode to the Lone Wolf

How hallowed tis the ground I keep, By nigjht the lone wolf awakes to creep

Travelling around the mountain a now well worn path, In the morn to suffer the aftermath

Frustration and lack of sleep, Yet still by night the lone wolf doth creep

Off on a chase, another hunt, Seeking to devour prey with teeth now blunt

Years of self knowing count for nothing, As the light of day unleashes a sting

Have I only managed to hermatise myself?, Choosing social and sexual anorexia instead of health

Surely there must be more to life, Than struggling with an inner strife

Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places, And seeing the wrong faces

Looking out rather than in, For someone to put on my face a grin

A mature woman I’ve sought, Yet no prey has the lone wolf caught

Mayhaps a blessing in disguise, Least my flesh cause my demise

In the age of AIDS and HIV, Cellabacy has been good to me

I look at my past behaving, In response to that inner craving

A lack of respect for partners and me, It’s a wonder I didn’t get HIV, Time is the key

Friendship first, Shallow relationships no longer for me, Cellabacy for now it’s got to be

The lone wolf must be tamed, And my past no longer blamed

Time

Time is the key, It unlocks the doors of perception, It passes and slides away

Providing oft missed opportunities for change, Sometimes providing pleasure, sometimes pain

Great motivational force and by-products of its passing

A maturing force to be reckoned and reasoned with

Revelations coming and going, Ebbing and flowing like the tide

And it slowly marches on

What morsel of truth will tomorrow bring?

Will it bring rhetoric or revelation?

Rescuer

The chivalrous knight ready to ride, His verbose eloquence polished

Wit finely honed and sharpened, His trusty steed Purpose ready to ride

His white surtout blowing in the breeze, His vision tunneled by his idealic healm

What crusade shall he next venture on?, Which damsel in distress shall he save next?

Will the saddle slip again, and he be dragged behind a misguided Purpose?

Will a morning haze effect his gaze?, Is Don Quiotie off chasing windmills again?