Take dynamite

Scan0008

Have you ever got lost in a maze?

Without ever leaving your room,

Nor even leaving your bed.

I have.

Screaming wildly as I run

SMACK

Into those same brick walls

Over and over.

If I can’t find a dead-end

I build a new one.

Burying me deeper and deeper

Within the straitjacket

Torture I desire.

Yet bleed out my agonies,

In blind terror

At what I have allowed to happen.

At how I have let these walls hem me in.

I scream, I beg, I fucking hate myself

Because I plead

To the Pillars of Authority,

Graven Images,

As blind as the walls that entomb me

Within my pain.

While all around I hear torrents of abuse

“Failure, Embarrassment, Loser” they cry,

The disembodied voices from on high.

But one voice dissents,

One voice whispers

Something different.

I call it Liar, I call it False Prophet,

Because it talks of being different.

It says I can be better.

If I just allowed myself to believe

In a horizon

That exists just outside my walls.

“Take dynamite,”

It says,

“Create your own path.” It counsels,

“Blast your way out of this maze.”

© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally published 4 May 2015

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Bogeyman

photo credit: Marco Nürnberger The Shadow via photopin (license)

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us stronger,
What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger,

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish for yesterday,
Makes us wish.
That the Shadow would go away

Leave us to our own designs
To roll the dice,
Leaves us to play the game.
Fate in own hands

Impostors by another name,
Captains of our own sinking ship.
In control of our own illusions
With mastery of all our delusions.

With all the weapons ready
At our command
We are ready
To take a stand.

What doesn’t kill us
Makes us wish we were younger
Makes us long for the Shadow
That we fear to go away.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Night Watch (Turbulence)

photo credit: PeterThoeny Sonic Runway and bubbles via photopin (license)

Transition from high to lows
Is always a bumpy ride when you can’t let go.
When you are reaching out for the drowning man
Hoping, beyond hope
That he’s going to drag you back down again –
To the bottom of the well.
Instead of just hanging here where gravity is like shifting sand.
Where the currents could tear you apart
And you’re living a living hell.
Crying tears, flowing down, creating rivers all about where you stand.
But nobody sees the pain, because nobody is watching
They all think you can cope.
They share out the blind eyes, pass round the happy pills
As the music starts and you put on the clown mask.
Believing the delusion that all is well.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Falling Into the Future

photo credit: garlandcannon Persistence of Chromatic Memory via photopin (license)

Falling into the future,

When the memories will let me.

The memories that did beget me

And like a lover’s arms want to keep hold.

 © 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Breaking Through

photo credit: Jason A. Samfield The Absences of Light via photopin (license)

The grey clouds swirl around my mind
Like a million dark thought butterflies.
A cascade of believings before the facts
Chasing me through this subconscious realm
Up and down these roads, to hell and back.
Making me forget to look up occasionally
To see that the clouds do break
The sky here and there.
And in the distance through the haze,
A hint of blue is sneaking through,
To remind me that better days are coming soon.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Rhyme nor Reason

Day 2 of my review of the last 12 months, and a poem about the dark spaces within in us all.

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Anonymous Account Go ahead via photopin (license) photo credit: Anonymous Account Go ahead via photopin(license)

This is my disease.
My locked room
Without a key.
My sickness
Without a cure.
This silence
You must endure.
Watch reason flee,
Lights flickering out.
This is my dis-ease.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Warning Signs

photo credit: enki22 b.p.c. via photopin (license)

Numbness spreading out from within
Like a gangrene, strange confusion.
Death cell by cell, crawling back in
To the snakeskin of my own hell.
I am the monster, it is me.
Symbiosis/singularity.
This falling before the fall.
Shadow footsteps echoes in hell;
Darkness’s calling heard before.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

 

In the Pit of My Stomach

photo credit: Anskit Stessi via photopin (license)

In the dark of the night time
In the cold of my bed
In the moments in between
When the feelings are raw.
When my mouth is slowly drying
And the words rot in my throat.
And the dreams are dying
Like autumn leaves falling in the breeze.
And I can’t unfeel what I’ve felt before.
And my belief is crumbling,
Oh so many nights of tears and dust.
Then there’s this feeling I get
In the pit of my stomach.
A chill like a knife blade
Twisting within my spirit and guts.
When I’d scream

If screaming counted for much.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Within the eye of the storm

It is calm here at the eye of the storm.

While outside my extremities are raging.

Muscles taut, eyes bulging, body shaking,

Beset by thoughts of hurricane force pain.

I can laugh at the fool the world sees

Lying forgotten, within this calm place,

That the storm cannot touch.

For I know the fool is not real.

For I know he is not me.

 

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published: 14 February 2015

A Theory of Everything

 

photo credit: new 1lluminati naked singularity via photopin (license)

The world is always going to let you down.
That’s what gravity is
Millennia of disappointment
Tying people to the ground.

The stars don’t know why they are shining;
The planets don’t know where they are going,
They haven’t got a clue,
They’re just wandering round and round

And round and round.
Restless nomads stumbling blindly in the dark,
Fumbling for enlightenment, for meaning,
Unaware of what surrounds.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.