Told myself I was okay
But now it’s too late in the day
To espouse such nonsense
When I know in my heart of hearts
I don’t want any of these things
Nothing. Not even the guitars
Or the TV.
I don’t want the music playing
In my ears
I just have it on for noise.
I don’t want any of this
Inspired by a story I’ve been working on for a couple of years now, comes the following poetry:
The world is a sheet of hazy blue
but that still won’t keep me from you
oceans wide, oceans apart
where did we depart?
Why, Jessica, are the jitter bugs in you
when you’re having the time of your life
watching me trying to ignite
do you see I’m just a dragonfish
blind, but trying to become light?
I can’t find my place
even among misfits
want out of this race
got no path I can see to trace
and I don’t think I can
be the man
I thought I wanted to be anyway
courage is not known by me
he’s simply a stranger I know I could never be
I don’t want to live inside myself
I’m my own misfortune, my own hell
sometimes I dare to think I could even dream
but then I fall back down to earth
and I see
I am not the man I sought to be
And I wish taking a life would be easier
because one more day inside this skin
is just endless torture.
I can’t let you bring me
back down
you don’t even try
just your words
your existence
makes me frown
it’s not that I’m angry
I’m not
I’m just full of fuck
and I’m trying to
get rid of the push and pull
factor
you are my resistance
to recovery
you are the insistence
I lack courage
You are the eyes
That say, “he can’t do this.”
You reflect
My own thoughts of me
Hello people in my harem,
I’m working on a book with my poetry and a few other bits here and there.
Currently in the process of trying to figure out organising this thing.
This is also why I haven’t recently posted any new poetry, as i am keen on keeping some poems exclusive to the book.
I already have a working title, I will not be revealing that till I get further in the process.
In the mean time I may post older poetry, new poetry written exactly for the purposes of having something to post here.
But it would do me a favour if you wish to reblog any of my posts, share, like or follow. Every like or follow helps construct the illusion I need to uphold, that being that my words are getting me somewhere 😉
hello, to all the people in my harem and others.
I’m working my way through collections of my poetry and other bits of writing to put in a book.
This is why I’ve not been posting new poetry lately, as I wish to keep some exclusive for the book so some poems can remain unread and new to anyone who reads my blog.
For now though it would do me a massive favour if you wish to reblog, share and like any poetry or other pieces of mine.
I have a theory, though I must add it’s not a scientific one. But through observation of people, I’ve come to the conclusion that delusion is a fundamental part of the human psyche.
I believe that a small amount of delusion is needed for human functioning, that delusions are indeed survival mechanisms.
A person either has just enough delusion to function and get them through their lives, or his or her delusions take over and prevent functioning. But there is a third type of person, a person who lacks the ability to believe in a delusion, a person who notices almost every contradiction meaning they couldn’t believe if they tried. Their lives become what can only be verbally and in writing expressed as a living hell. It’s a subset of depression. It’s severe sanity.
Sanity to the extremes in a human mind is dangerous. Because with such extreme sanity, your head will be played with, with a constant barrage of contradictions that others seemingly don’t notice. It means you also see that there is no grander meaning to life; you see it for what it is. Because life is everything yet everything in the scheme of things means nothing. There is no grander purpose. We have a biological drive to help us in the here and now and nearer future, but we see that even the here and now don’t really amount to anything with meaning. That the only way meaning can exist is for us to create a meaning, but to create that meaning you need to be able to function like a human being who doesn’t suffer from severe sanity. You need a delusion. A positive delusion. And where can a severely sane person require a delusion, once they’re aware that everything humans believe to keep themselves going, to give them meaning is a delusion?
I don’t know. Where can we go, with all our fucks? We have no delusions to pack them into.
And if you think I don’t notice the contradiction of posting a post on a blog for others to read, as if somehow you can help a person like me, or as if my writing means anything I am fully aware while writing this, that this post doesn’t even matter. And that to even write it is stupidity in the face of what i have just said. But thats just another reason it hurts to be me. Because all these repetive days that go on, i carry on all the while knowing the only logical answer.
I disturb me. I’m tired of life and death, I’m tired of me. I’m tired of other people and their baggage, their emotions, their problems, their excuses. I’m tired of what I go through not being worthy of the pain I feel. It makes me feel pathetic, I hate when I see someone with genuine suffering and all I can think is “I have all this pain inside, and my reasons aren’t worthy of the pain I feel. My pain is not worthy yet I feel it because I’m pathetic” I feel like a clown with those endless handkerchiefs, I have endless pain. A deep harrowing hole that can’t be emptied, that can’t be fulfilled. It can’t be either because it’s nothing and it’s everything.
What I really want to do is, cut myself off from the world, allow myself to mourn life and take a painless exit.
Want to know what a gorilla truly wants? Read his poetry. But beware darkness lurks, for this gorilla has his hand in the abyss. Oh also this gorilla sometimes writes with sexual themes
It’s a hazy Sunday afternoon
Jazz and the sound of a ticking clock
Smokey dreams
Make the earthly realm obsolete
And woman solely mine
Kicks off her shoes
And we kiss in cocktails of wine
Crimson lipstick stains on my face
A tattoo from the divine
2015
My identity no longer insists on the person/people spoken about in this poem.
I don’t want to let you go
I want to float away with you
I want to go into oblivion too
My identity insists on you
I can still hear your footsteps echoing
I’m trying to reconstruct these memories
Sharp as razor edges, broken in pieces
I’m trying to find our reflection
But all I see is a stranger fading from me
Your face began to wane
And now you look like anyone
And I’m afraid
Because though you’re slipping away
I’ve left a part of me too
And it’ll always be with you
But all you left me
Were different shades of blue
© 2015
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 