The road through

We’ve all got strings
Being played
How did I know
It would end this way?
Bust a lip with black eyes
Broken nose
Packs of ice
Resting on my bones
Till another fight

When will my strings
Be played right
Trying not to be a victim
But I’m feeling dark tonight
One drink for the road
This road I’m on
Mustn’t lose my grip
On the wheel, heading through
A town I know will never heal

Last Swing

We have battles with our demons
Our own wars in our heads
Blood, sweat and tears today are still shed
But instead of world war
It’s hell inside our minds
With all of these tyrants
Pulling the wool over our eyes
We see him in the mirror
But we don’t look
We think the enemy is someone else
And that’s why you miss your own left hook
The enemy is within us
And to think he can be defeated
Is a lie we’re sold
All we can do is keep fighting
Some days we’ll win
But the fight is never over
Until you take your last swing.

Suffering creates character….

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And isn’t it this train of thought that is the problem?

There is an element of truth to it, for sure. But I see all these people competing who suffered the most, and I wonder if this idea of being heroic and suffering to create character is part of the problem? Not that I have a solution, just that it’s a problem I’ve recognised in the human condition. I get the sense some humans feel they haven’t suffered enough, though it seems counterintuitive to want more suffering it seems like people are jealous of people who have gained ‘character’ from suffering.

If I can be oppressed (or claim to be oppressed), then I have something to fight (or something to claim to be fighting).

The paradox in all this? There is suffering in the conquest for more ‘worthy’ suffering…..

Mastery

With the thud of the feet

A heart that refuses to admit defeat
With sweat upon my brow
And the blood shed as I take another hit

I shall not bow out!

Too late, gotta hold it now
Let the blood drip
From my lips
Look into my eyes
you’ll see the beast
He’s been unleashed
Out on the prowl
Ready to take it
Break it
Tear down these walls
So tired, I didn’t think I could make it
I prayed to a god I didn’t believe
Said “Please, god, forsake me”
And he handed me a sword
Said “We’ll battle this one out son”
And so the beasts have run
“Who is your enemy?” he asks me
to which I replied “Everybody! The world! Even me”
“Only one of them is correct, my son”
And that’s when I saw
My reflection in the silver
And I knew then, I knew
The number one worst enemy I must master.

(c) 2015

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