Nothing to Declare

 

photo credit: h.koppdelaney Observer via photopin (license)

Reaching out for something
As if it might be
Poisoned, the antidote
Is not getting you through.
Just tied up in the wires
As they tighten the screw.
No one is fighting for you.
The desires are passion crimes
And nothing will get you through.

Searching for anything;
Most holy last orders
With spirits at the bar.
Making confessions
As fast as you can
But it won’t save you.
Reality is bruising,
The ghost don’t believe in you,
And nothing is an illusion.

Holding on to nothing
As if it’s a lifebelt,
That’s going to save
You from calling out –
But nobody’s listening,
It’s a pointless wish list.
Nobody is breaking through.
The mirrors are all one way,
Nothing is echoing back to you.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Chasms

photo credit: Graeme Pow Helical Staircase via photopin (license)

photo credit: Graeme Pow Helical Staircase via photopin (license)

There is a gap in this virtual life.
A black hole in the centre of perfection,
An absence in the heart of my world.
And perhaps this shadow, is for your silhouette to fill.
Or perhaps it is for teardrops and stardust instead.
Maybe the void gets filled by the journey.
Maybe this nothing needs to get broken. Reshaped. Reborn.
Perhaps it gets forged by the fire.
A burning passion, assuaged, a million one-nights.
But at times when I listen in silence
Or forget the worries and just laugh.
Forget my worries and let go.
SCREAMING out at the top of my lungs!
And wondering if it is not in the spaces instead,
Those gaps themselves, that are making me whole.

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© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Life is not so bad living here in Ironic Utopia City

photo credit: image49163 via photopin (license)

photo credit: image49163 via photopin (license)

*contains swearing

               ∞

I can’t get no dissatisfaction

No matter how hard I try,

Everything’s coming up roses

It’s peaches and cream.

I’m tripping over those silver linings

When I’m not wishing on a star,

It’s so damn near perfect

It’s like living in a fucking dream.

Hometown streets are sparkling clean

Everyone’s got a wave and smile

Stress-free driving, they use the highway code,

No traffic jams, and the lights are always green.

Life’s just one big jubilee,

Beer is free, God bless the Queen.

It’s nearing perfection here

Living in a fucking dream.

 

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Around the sun

Sun and planet in space

I love the world

When it revolves around me.

What a shame that it insists

On revolving round the sun.

 

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Justice (or the rules of the playground)

Day 26 of the 30 Reblogs of November

Made of sticks and stones

This is not the blog post I intended to write; in fact I had written two poems which were all primed and ready to fly out into the ether. But they were both hate filled rants written during the endless hours of an insomniac midsummer night. And more importantly they ran contrary to what had left me feeling low in the first place; intolerance.

Yep, both pieces of writing were full of the same generalised intolerance against others that had led me to scream like a child “it’s not fair”.

When I was six a teacher said to my mother at a parents evening that I had a heightened sense of right and wrong, so perhaps it is naivety that still expects others to “play nicely” when experience tells me most people look on those rules as slightly archaic guidelines that were not written with them in mind.

So how…

View original post 619 more words

Justice (or the rules of the playground)

This is not the blog post I intended to write; in fact I had written two poems which were all primed and ready to fly out into the ether. But they were both hate filled rants written during the endless hours of an insomniac midsummer night. And more importantly they ran contrary to what had left me feeling low in the first place; intolerance.

Yep, both pieces of writing were full of the same generalised intolerance against others that had led me to scream like a child “it’s not fair”.

When I was six a teacher said to my mother at a parents evening that I had a heightened sense of right and wrong, so perhaps it is naivety that still expects others to “play nicely” when experience tells me most people look on those rules as slightly archaic guidelines that were not written with them in mind.

So how have I coped as I have aged with this discrepancy between the rules and reality? Well none too well really. When adolescent hormones came on to the scene I initially fumed internally at the slights I felt myself subjected to and the inequalities I saw around me; but eventually I began to kick out violently at the world and in particular those I judged guilty of deeming me their inferior.

Adulthood meant I could no longer lash out and the rage disappeared under my skin where it seethed like a super-volcano filling me up with its toxic lava as I was subjected to individuals shouting “Me, me, me first” with every action I saw. But the six year old still rattling around inside of me screamed “it’s not fair!” when I judged a person had broken the rules by thinking that the world revolved around them and their whims.

And then I would go away, brood and label that person based on age/race/class/weight/hair colour or some other presumption.

“She won’t like me because the last girl laughed at me.”

“He won’t like me because he lives in that street and has the fancy trainers my parents can’t afford.”

“He’s a different race to me and my kind all know what they are like.”

“We don’t want them moving in next door.”

“They are a different religion to me…”

“But he’s gay!”

“But they live in social housing!”

“You don’t hang around with the kids from the remedial class.”

“She’s dyed her hair purple and pierced her tongue. She’s probably a druggie.”

I had become a person who prejudged; an effective self-defence against letting anyone close enough to hurt me but a complete betrayal of the six year-old with the heightened sense of right and wrong.

My poem The Chameleon posted on this site ends with the question: Do you see me? Well the answer would have to be a resounding No! I had completed lost sight of other people behind all the labels I had tagged them with. I had begun to think of my fellows as an alien species, every one of those labels emphasised their differences to me and not our shared humanity.

 

When I was thinking of an appropriate quote to go with this article I initially thought of “All it takes for evil to prosper…”. Then I thought of Newton’s third law of motion “For every action…”. Before I finally settled on “Honi soit qui mal y pense” because it appealed to that six year old within me, as I had learnt it on a trip to the Tower of London, it is the motto of the Order of the Garter, “Evil be to him who evil thinks.”

This sums it up for me, evil begats evil, hate begats hate and intolerance breeds intolerance in an endless cycle of negativity that eats up every individual in its path. If you allow yourself to see only another persons’ differences to you, then pretty soon those labels come to dominate your perceptions of others, of course they will conform to the stereotype you don’t give them a chance to be anything else. So forget the negativity and embrace the possibilities.

Yes that six year old cried out that the world wasn’t fair and he was right. But that does not stop me from trying to make it a little fairer now. It’ll take a long time because it involves treating every single person I meet as an individual and as there are seven billion of us on this planet it’s going to take a long time.

But if I don’t give up the hate, then the hate is going to win and that is not fair.