The written word

What is the cure for my wounded heart?
Is it the sweet words of comfort that lay on the written pages,
Past mistakes lived,
Poured by the creators of pain,
Masters of symphony that crushes the sound and tears the joy alive?
I wonder,
Do I keep myself in their stories,
As it easier is to relive the horrors of one’s life?
As no consequences are asked from the keen reader,
Paid in full by the author,
As clearly as the day that rises,
You can see,
The sweat and tears that ran rampant,
In the ink that now dries,
As the heart still bleeds.
But as my mind wonders and my eyes cross between the blurred lines of the letters presented,
I can not help but wonder,
What price was payed for such sorrow,
As who becomes the master of issues concerning the soul,
A teacher of pain and misery?

Between the heart and mind

Stuck in this perpetual limbo,
Where the heart battles the mind,
One pulling the tether that bounds,
The other fixed in his position to defend,
The past mistakes I called love.

I stand at the distance,
Watching the never ending debate,
My mind caught in between the struggles of the soul,
To carry on which is the choice,
To love blindly
Or to hate reasonably?

And each one of them,
Speaks the truth as they know,
Perhaps that is the sole reason,
Why my mind trembles between this war.
Stubborn they are in their ways,
To each their side prevails,
Each a hero in their own tales.

Who is right? And who is wrong?
The one that is left standing.
As my mind crumbles in this constant war,
I fear that I won’t make it.
As the heart wants what it wants,
And the mind despises the decision the other makes,
I am left alone,
A sole man in this never ending tale.

The voice I never heard

My voice gets lost,
In the sea of millions,
Forgotten as it stands,
Crushed under waves of imagination.
Despair crosses my mind,
As doubt takes ahold,
What once a proud poet said,
Now a mere shell sits,
Casted on the empty shores of life,
By the tide that swipes all,
Now he wonders was it all for naught?

Even the bright hope of the sun,
Means little to the one who is lost,
How can it allure,
When doubt ate all perception?
Now lost and damned,
I sit and wait,
For my eternal redemption.

But still, in the fearless moments that occur,
I find myself wanting,
Waiting,
Shivering,
For a chance so the voice of hope can be heard.

Do we really matter? (The price of life)

There is always this one thought in our mind that lingers and eventually comes forth. To some it might be a whisper which can be easily pushed away and to others it comes as a roaring thunder that never leaves our sight, a seed that grows rapidly, unchallenged it spreads to the darkest corners of our minds where it thrives. And to us, the few that are unable to ignore it and make it go away, it becomes our great companion in the darkest days that come, a friend that possess some of the most reasonable insults you will ever hear, a supposed ally that will aid you in getting rid of all hope that you yearn for, all the friends you wish to be with, as he will convince you love and family are just an unnecessary burden. And in that enveloped darkness is where our own humanity is tested.

The world doesn’t care

The month of September is suicide prevention month and especially this week is the suicide prevention week with the 10th of September being suicide prevention day. First of all I would like to say as with mental health awareness month, I am glad we devote more attention to mental health and the bag of problems it brings. But don’t let it be one month, one year, one day… Look to the people you love the most, to the person next to you, read the signs and be open and ready to help. Be patient, be caring and understanding. I remember a friend of mine who went throught tough time and looked for a solution by opening to one of our other friends. And he got an advice I despise the most. He said to him why would you even think about suicide, it’s selfish, think about your family. To an extent I agree, as someone who unfortunately went on that road twice (almost three times) it’s those we leave behind that still feel our pain after we are gone. But what most don’t understand and what my friend who said that didn’t get is why does no one feel our pain before? Does it take those drastic measures for others to take interest in our suffering? They would think we only seek attention but in reality we are lost, wanting nothing more then to find our way back, wanting nothing more then comfort and understanding. But unfortunately my friends, the world doesn’t care. Mostly… As it is easier to judge then to understand. But not all share that enthusiasm to judge without a thought, no…  There are us who have been through the hell of self doubt you are going through,  there are us who know how it feels standing at the bottom in that darkness not seeing a way out. And trust me there is a way out. So don’t be hesitant. Reach out. To me, to others… I know there are lines to phone and I won’t judge their work (even if I have heard some dubious stuff about how they operate) remember that even in your darkest moments, when the world seems bleak, there are still people you can turn to. But as it is with trust, easy it is given, harder it is proven. It can be hard to confide in someone, fearing their reaction might change the view their eyes hold over us. And yes it can be difficult to dump that burden we carry on some, trusting them even with the slight sight of it, in fear they would run or judge, as much as it pains me to admit, there are still good men roaming around, willing to help, to listen, not for their own selfish gains, but rather out of the goodness of their own hearts. Because that’s how we as humanity redeem ourselves, that’s how we fix our own species and this world, by putting a bit faith in our fellow human and repaying that faith when it is given to us.

I thought I could turn off my consciousness
But there was a price to pay

How hard is it to get out of that hole? Perhaps some of you are right now in it, perhaps you know some that are, but let me tell you something, it is a living hell that doesn’t end. As how can one escape it, the perfect prison designed by the only person who knows your deepest fears, darkest secrets that keep you embedded in that cold black chasm, as the worst prison we can find ourselves in are the ones we design. I can lie, say that even when you manage to pick up the broken pieces of your mind and soul, even if you somehow draw enough strength where there is none and that if you manage to spark the dark pyre of your heart with hope that was nonexistent that all will be well after, but sadly it is not the case. Even if you manage to do all those extraordinary feats and somehow pull yourself up, the fight won’t be over just yet. I am sorry my friend, but it will never be over. Forever there will be scars, invisible to the naked eye, hidden deep in your soul, that in any given moment you look down deep, you will find yourself again in a war with doubt and despair. But do not mistake this as an act of discouragement, no… As you should be proud. Not all had the strength or support to stand back again. We all lost friends and loved ones to that struggle. I would dare to say us standing out of the shadows that our mind casts is a privilege. An honor. Even if sometimes we want to give up, even if sometimes we will have doubts in every and all action we make, no matter how big or small it might be, I feel we owe to ourselves to think better. Of us. Of the world. Of others. That it can be better. That we deserve better. I feel like we deserve to hope. But not foolish one that had put is in that hole in the first place. I believe we owe to ourselves to think that even if we get up, try again and again that after all the fucking struggle, after all that pain, that all of that wasn’t for nothing. That after all, even we the broken creatures of the doubt, deserve to be happy.

You will relapse. Might bend the knee under the heavy burden, the untold pressure of not knowing does tomorrow bring something bad or not. You might fall, not wanting to get back up, think what’s the fucking point? And that is OK. At the end of the day, remember, we are all the same. Just human. It’s in our nature to fail. To try. To succeed. To be happy. So let’s be, just that… Only human. A flawed perfection.

At the end of the day, remember, we are all the same. Just human. It’s in our nature to fail. To try. To succeed. To be happy. So let’s be, just that… Only human. A flawed perfection.

Final words of encouragement

I will leave you with this. When someone reaches out, remember, they are showing trust, so repay it by listening, taking notice, by caring. We all struggle with life. And if we can make someone’s life a bit less dark, then perhaps our own will seem a bit more brighter. Most of us fear judgement, so don’t be hasty. As we all seek one thing. To be understood. So show love, not pity. Show care, not judgement. And perhaps we all as a species can look for a better tomorrow. And that’s what I wish to you my friends. May your tomorrow be a bit less bleak, a bit more brighter and may the only tears you shed be the one of happiness. Love you all you beautiful people,

Harry.

Mother

My face you do not recognise
But your tears I see,
Even if they don’t flow
I notice the sorrow your eyes hide
Broken under my embrace,
Your heart i feel,
The scars it took and the burden it carried.

You, The one who guarded my spirit,
You, The one who guided my mind,
Your best You gave,
For my life to have meaning.

The debt that can not be paid,
Even by two life time,
For your kindness and love,
Mine now stands,
Offerd, without hesitation,
In your time of need,
I kneel weeping for the light lost.

POW: Professionally wasting time

I know, I know. Even I am sick of it. I am here, then I go missing for a week, then hey here I am again. For the few people that read my stuff and follow me on twitter they must think I am half assing this, not taking it seriously or something, coming every few days or so even here and gracing everyone with my presence. But that’s not the case though. For the few of you who follow me, they know that my life and the reason of my hair going gray in my late 20s is this damn day job. But alas, 15 or so days are left and then I can take again a day off, which it will make, what? 3 whole months of day to day work, every damn day? Jesus… But sure, you can say that I had even an hour off and why didn’t I create, why I avoided twitter and the whole ordeal?
Not counting that I spent the few hours I had passing out of sheer exhaustion and editing the upcoming book, I just wasn’t in a good place. And for everyone who tried to do something be it writing or trying to find success in any part of life, you know how bad your performance can get if your head and heart ain’t in the right place. You want perfection, or whatever comes close to it. Be that as it may, I still have to say I feel guilty.

Professionally wasting time and half assing life


That would be my official title if anyone asked. A writer? Perhaps. Poet? Sometimes. But an idiot who jumps ahead without a second thought and who is a master in procrastination? Definitely! OK, with all things considered, having my life force sucked by my job and the scary week where everyone around me had Covid except me (get your vaccines don’t screw around) I got to say as far excuses go, I am solid. But, there is always a but, I feel guilty. Not many of you know the book that is coming out “The Lonesome Road” is my second book. First technically as I wrote it about 3 years ago, if you want to be specific, bit that’s semantics. I had written a book last year which I am in the same time proud of and disgusted by. Proud because I wrote every day for like 2-3 hours deep in the night. I worked the same job, not as intense I may add, but yet again every day I retained a certain dose of commitment of which I was proud. Sheer determination took over as I was adamant to finis this. But then again it brings a certain dose of pain, as the story by itself was good, actually great in my humble opinion, but filled with mistakes and putting it myself, dipping the toes in self publishing made me realise this was a big endeavour for me. Yet I made my peace with it, as it is failure that is the necessary part of growth. I took my lessons from it, as it was necessary to make those certain mistakes for me to learn, to grow. After that, I changed my view on life as well. Having a mental breakdown that same year helped to it. But it was a harsh lesson that was necessary, that no matter the mistakes we make in life, no matter how many or how big, with the will to change, it might get better. Now I am still waiting for those better days, but every single good thing that comes my way, no matter how small, I take it in appreciating it in full, knowing how rare of an occurance it is.

“…no matter how many or how big, with the will to change, it might get better.”

Be proud of your steps

Yes, I feel ashamed. Sometimes I am afraid I will go stagnant again, falling a victim to my depression, throwing all the progress I made as a person away and get back to staying in bed all day not feeling well as I make peace with my destiny. You think to fail is the biggest pain of life? Then you never have been laying down pressured by the darkness of your thoughts, wasting your life doing nothing or doing stupid things, watching those around you progressing to better parts of their life while you are being left behind, left only with your own thoughts that taunt you. It can get bad. But I feel a measure of a person is the ability to wish for a change.  No matter how many mistakes we make, if there is a will to change, to be better then the toxic and bad person we are, I think there is still hope. That’s why I feel ashamed now. I became a person that if he doesn’t use every usable second of the short day he has to create and write, to progress towards his goal, I am afraid I am going back. There is this saying. You gaze into the abyss long enough, the abyss gazes back. I have been to that dark place, I know what’s there. And I don’t want to go back. I have been there making mistake after mistake, thinking my life was worthless, so what’s a new mistake or two. I have watched my friends and family progress to better things in life and I wasn’t jealous. Why would I? How can I be when I knew I don’t deserve to be happy, to succeed in life. To all who had been there, you know well you fall so deep you hit the floor and face the question. Was it enough of that kind of life and will you get your shit together or do you give up and continue to fall. Trust me, after you see the bottom of that abyss, you find true fear of what can happen. I believe progress requires mistakes. But it can be hard. To be broken, not knowing how to ask for help, but desperately wanting some. My advice? No matter how scary and hard it looks to get up from that bottom and climb despite being down it for so long, trust me, it’s far more scarier what awaits you down if you stay. So believe you deserve better, that it can be better. And it will.

“No matter how scary and hard it looks to get up from that bottom and climb despite being down it for so long, trust me, it’s far more scarier what awaits you down if you stay. So believe you deserve better, that it can be better. And it will.”

Preaching again

Seems I can’t help it! Damn. I start talking about one thing and immediately it turns into a TED talk. Perhaps it’s the boring person in me, I don’t know what to say as my life is pretty dull. But I like to believe these insights and my experience could provide some comfort and assistance to some of you who are going through this, to let you know it gets better, even if right now things might seem bleak. You stayed in the dark for this long and it didn’t kill you, then trust me you have the courage to walk on into the light. I got to admit it feels good I found a brief moment to sit and write another POW. Process of writing was an idea for me not just to practice writing and open up, be more personal, but to share my experiences and to motivate others to share. I know August had been pretty silent from my end, but here’s hoping that will change in the upcoming weeks. My head is getting there, getting into that good place of strength and I can feel the spark igniting once again. So here’s to you all, to all of you who still seek your spark, your way out of the dark, may you find it, may you stay strong and resilient in your quest for a better tomorrow. To you my friends, wherever you may be, I wish you all the best. Stay strong and moving.

Much love,
Harry.

The meaning of life

For what is the worth of a man,
If not the legacy he leaves behind?
Ushered words that linger,
In the blood of our sons and daughters,
Is not the legacy of our fathers mere mistakes and sins passed?

The tenets we remember,
The creed we abide,
Navigating the narrow path of life.

Future that is unknown,
Feared it arrives,
Yet it is not the world which decides,
The life we leave behind,
Broken it divides
Left out hearts of humanity.
Sole flame that burns in each soul,
With a responsibility to provide,
Smile of our own.

Legacy of the forgotten

What if my story goes untold,
An unspoken quest never known?
Will my heart go bleak,
If its sorrow won’t be heard?
Forever lost amongst the grains of sand,
Just another song washed away,
Swept under the night sky,
One of many,
One of few,
Cry of the forgotten,
Proven to regress,
Heart blacken and rotten.

Even if a chance occurs,
And one mouth utters my name,
Know that it will live on,
Blurred and Swept away,
Yet alive.

Treachery of hope

There,
It whispers,
The most seductive words known to mankind.
There,
It stands,
On the shoulders of the damned.
Here,
Backed by our own voices of insanity,
Hope reigns,
Unchallenged, supreme,
Without an equal.

Followed by all,
Seduced by many,
It ushers new meaning.
But forgotten it stands,
The strength in ourselves,
Relaying on the strain of thought,
To wait for a miracle,
Rather to make one by our own hands.

The eternal question of love

I once said,
In your pain I have fallen in love.
But why is that,
Looking at mine,
You only see pity and sorrow?
Where I was mesmerised by beauty and grace,
You never saw past my mistakes,
Thoroughly digging it up.

Why? I ask.
I wonder, time and time again.
To what extent my soul needs to open,
To be viable for love?
Is it past its date,
Or perhaps it is to late,
As I never deserved love in the first place

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