Funny.

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Photo Credit : Braydon Anderson on Unsplash

Funny.

Can’t You Be More Funny, She Said, Not Be So Serious All Of The Time
Can’t You Use Words To Uplift Our Spirits, And Make Our Hearts Shine
Does Everything Have To Be So Tragic, Sad Depressing And Down
As That’s All It Ever Seems To Be With You, Whenever You’re Around

What About Frivolity, Joy Happiness And More
That’s What People Are Searching For, That’s Why We Come Through This Door
Unhappy Scenes, People Of No Means, Tragedy Piled On So Thick And Deep
This Is Not What I’m Looking For, It’s Not What I And Other People Seek

I Can See That Kind Of Rubbish, On Eastender’s Every Week
Lighten Up Bring Some Cheer, If You Can, Please Do So My Dear
Life Is Tough Enough, She Said, But It’s Not What I Wish To Focus On,
I Want To Tilt My Head Towards Scenes Of Love, Lift My Soul Up Above

That Would Make Me Want To Jump Out Of Bed, Perhaps Burst Out Of My Head
With Joy And Happiness
Put Me In Good Form All Day Long. That’s An Event That Would Be Time Well Spent
Can You Be More Happy, She Said. I Want Some Happiness Before I’m Dead

Can You Lift Your Soul Up, From Where It’s Dragging On The Floor
Don’t You Try And Bring Me Down, Lift Me Up Instead Even More
Infuse My Mind And Spirit With Joy, And Peaceful Contentment
Maybe Then We’ll Build A Friendship On That, As Solid And Strong As Tough Cement

I Looked At Her, And Said I’ll Try. I Know I Can Be A Bit Depressing At Times
But Sometimes, That’s How My Mind Functions. It All Seems Out Of My Control
It’s Not That I Try To Be Unkind And Mean, Even Though At Times, That’s What It May Seem
But It’s What I Feel  Inside, At Times, In My Dark And Troubled Mind

But I Ain’t All Tragic, I Like A Good Laugh Myself At Times
Can’t You Be More Funny She Said, As She Headed Up The Stairway, Alone Away To Bed.

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Age.

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Photo Credit : https://unsplash.com/@cristina_gottardi

Age

As we age, do we become more of a sage, or just the same irritating person, but older
Do we mature, or still try to even scores, from times gone by in millennia
Are we consumed with hate, tales of revenge, when, if ever is all this gonna end
Are we full of regret for the words that we said, or even words we never dare utter

Are you afraid of dying, not sure what lies ahead, wondering have you wasted your life
Do you ask will you get a second chance, to do it all over again
Do you stare in the mirror, then turn away with despair
As you notice yet another grey hair, and the wrinkles that are coming out of nowhere

Are you bitter and mean, act in ways that are at times rude and obscene
Do you regret your life looking back at what you could have being
But have to accept what you actually became
Do you take that anger out on those close to you

Do you like getting old, how come you feel so cold
As your circulation begins to slow down
Is your eyesight not so keen, do you shake at the knees
Is your walk less upright than it once was
Is your bladder now a cause for real concern
As you forever yearn to be close to a toilet

Have you still got your own teeth, to bite into that meat
Or do you have to be so careful what you chomp on
Are you still operational in bed, or will that just have to be in your head
The very idea, leads to a tear, and the very real fear, of perhaps hurting your rear

Are you envious of and angry with the young , they have so much life ahead
Are bored beyond belief, perhaps so lonely, that you secretly weep, every night
Would you have taken more chances, given an other go
Maybe grasped, or at least tried those opportunities, rather than say no

Or have you come to terms with how your life has being
Even if it didnt turn out to be that glourious techniclour dream
Are you pleasent and keen, a joy to be around with, and be seen
Full of good cheer, laughter and all

Do you lift people up, rather than try make them look small
Will people miss you when you go
Say they were one of the best, and we were surely blessed
To be part of their life for a time

Life, old age is coming to us all
There is little we can do to make it stall
No mirror, mirror on the wall
What lies ahead when we’re all dead, God alone knows.

Revelation.

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Photo by Alex Jones on Unsplash

Snippet

One brief look, at the first few line of a letter left open on the old oak table. That’s all it took.
She hurried from the shadowed kitchen upon hearing the footsteps. The words imprinted deeply in her mind. Not knowing what to do with herself, she went out into the garden, in the early evening sunshine. Unhappy and disturbed there, she ran to her bedroom. Unable to rest there, she decided to go for a run.
She had to do something to bring her body and mind back to some sense of equilibrium. Quickly gathering her running gear,the grey tight fitting t-shirt, and slim fitting leggings. She set off at high-speed down the empty roads of the rural area, overlooking the wheat fields in full bloom. She ran as fast as she was able, and as long as she was able, to the point of near exhaustion. Perspiration building on her forehead, her neck and back. Her breathing loud and hard. It always worked when her mind was unsettled. Her mind and feelings of confusion, anger, sadness and mainly betrayal, slowly began to come into some type of balance.
They had lied. They held back the truth for so long. Exhausted after her long hard run. When her breathing eased she sat against the stone wall, that surrounded the green blossoming field. She usually found peace and solace in the stillness of the isolated rural area, broken only by the soft sounds of the birds chirping. But not this evening. What she had believed for so long, what she had based herself, her life on, was no longer true.

That sense of inner strength and sense of belonging she had gotten from her parents now no longer seemed true. If she could not trust them to be true and honest over such a matter, could she ever trust anyone anymore, ever ? As she sat by that wall, in the quiet summers evening, she could physically feel all her inner strenght and self esteem drain from her, there and then .
It was a very different girl who slowly picked herself up off the ground. The slumped posture, the head held low, the dragging of her feet, told anyone watching all they needed to know. If her real Mother did not want her all those years ago, did this mean she was no good. Unwanted, an encumbrance and waste of space. She slowly and unwillingly made her way back to the house of lies, she had for so long believed was her true home.

Time.

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Photo by Sabri Tuzcu on Unsplash

Time, just about  the most precious commodity there is. Do you really want to be working ninety hour plus, a week, to the point of exhaustion, just for the money. What about the time to reflect. To enjoy. To process and think over life events. Time to spend with your loved ones, and maybe children. Much of the lack of free time is to do with greedy, selfish employers, whom, from what I can see, pay those in their employ as little as they can get away with.
Consequently their generally low paid workers, have to spend most of their time, working all the hours God sends, in an effort to provide a decent life for themselves, and there loved ones. Maybe if these employers bought one less piece of expensive company equipment. Or maybe had one less holiday a year, and paid there workers a decent living wage, so they are not forced into working mad hours. How about that, a bit fairer all round, I’d say.
It certainly is quiet frustrating to read of company profits and turnover increasing, and not seeing that profitability reflected in one’s wage packet. The profits and turnover, you, as the employee are contributing to. I recently read an interview where the CEO of one of the major coffee operations in the world, with coffee houses everywhere. In that interview he relayed how he had being brought in a one parent family, by his Mother, in a poor area of town. Watching her struggle financially, under pressure and stress, trying to provide for her family. He determined there and then, that he would always remember how hard it was for his Mother, and that he would always be understanding, and helpful of others struggles on their life journey. Eventually managing to get himself educated, and successful to a reasonable degree, he became CEO of this internationally famous coffee company. How much do they pay their front line staff ? Minimum wage.
Maybe its easy to forget, where you’ve come from, and what you’ve being through, and what you promised yourself, when you are sitting in the plush boardroom, over looking the big city.

Generally I blame the employers, if you have to work for others. Where one is out of necessity forced to work very long working hours, for no great fortune. With little time for much else. To say it’s incredibly frustrating, would certainly be an understatement. Is chasing all that success, and the money, really that important ? You may  get to the graveyard a wealthy person. But were you so stressed out, and maybe missing out on important life, and family events, throughout your life. Missing the opportunity to connect with others on a deep level, form friendships that may have  lasted a life time. Not at all easy to balance it out. Did it all seem so worth it  now, looking back ? Not an easy quandary to solve. Time rich, and poor, or no time and rich. What matters to you, when you look back at your life, if your lucky enough to reach a healthy age. Of course, access to financial resources is an absolute bonus, as it makes life so much easier and smooth. Don’t you believe those Catholics and priests who tell you poverty, and suffering is the gateway to heaven. Trust me, it ain’t. I don’t believe God wants us to suffer. If there is a God, and we are all his children ?  If there is a God, I’m assuming he is a God of love, not a God of nastiness, and suffering. Don’t tread along that foolish path. Will you be a well to do person, full of regret, surrounded by the trappings of success ? But maybe angry underneath it all, that you missed out on so much.
I don’t have the answer. It’s very hard choices what you prioritize in life. No doubt financial wealth and independence is fabulous is one can achieve it. Leading to great freedom and choice in life, which is what I would strive for, and value most above all else. Maybe not everyone is cut out to be a successful entrepreneur. For myself, I certainly value time spent with loved one’s and friends, much more important than maybe a lonely existence of a wealthy person with the obvious trappings of success, but perhaps with a deep inner emptiness and loneliness, and much regret and frustration.
I don’t know if I’m coming back round for a second go, or if I’m coming back at all ! if you believe in reincarnation. Perhaps then I’d hold a different view. Who knows, maybe next time round I may be a wealthy man.

Dishonour.

You lie cheat and deny, say you are unable
To do what you said you were going to do
You insist it’s the truth, but it just don’t add up, like two and two
Something’s not right, something is amiss
How your living your life, like nothing has changed

Are you a man of honor, or does that mean nothing to you
Is it alright in your book, to screw others over
Cause this is what you do
You take what is not yours, refuse to share what you got
We’ve asked, pleaded, cajoled and begged

But none of these methods are getting through to your head
You lie, cheat and steal from those that are deserving
Those who are close to you
Surely we deserve better than this
Rather than be treated like fools

How can you be so immune, to others outside of yourself
Are you so wrapped up, and self indulgent
It does not even enter your head
Is it right, that you should indulge yourself, with what you taken
That don’t belong to you
Can you not see the suffering of others, right here in front of you

Have you no compassion, no empathy for others
Or perhaps you are a narcissist too
I will not be friendly to you
Maybe over time you will learn
To treat others this way just wont do

So I will ask one more time
Are you a man of honour, or does that mean nothing to you.

Choices.

Particular

‘I am very particular about whom I get involved with now. Although perhaps I may enjoy being with you. I don’t need to be with you’.
Never before had he being spoken to like that. The cheek, the very idea. Who the hell did this woman think she was. The blood surged through his veins at speed, like a wild ranging river. He could feel his face redden, his fists clench, his shoulders tense, and the adrenaline run round his abdomen.
Then with the strike, it was released. The very real sense of peace and physical relaxation most welcoming. His jaw he had held so tightly, now eased. His breathing again became more smooth and easy. His clenched fists returned to the gentle creative hands they usually were. His hate filled eyes now replaced by gentleness, regret and sorrow. He rushed to her side where she lay on the floor, the blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. Her smart business suit, now crumpled and sullied with the dirt from the kitchen floor. Her look of shock, and a little fear, but overall her face portrayed a look of righteous anger and indignation.

‘You think you can do that to me’, her scream loud and embarrassing.

What if the neighbours heard, was his only concern. Would they not know, and think so much less of him as a man, as a human. He had to shut her up, to quieten her. She quickly raised herself from the floor. Now she was the one feeling the strong feelings of anger, and indignation. Her emotions propelling her body’s movements. She ran at him, her screams guttural, inhuman, animal like. Her sharpened fingers reaching for his hair, face, his eyes, anywhere she could reach. Kicking and slapping where she could. But her efforts, wasted and ineffectual, on a man of his size. He pushed her away easily, and pleaded with her to calm down. Apologised for what he had done, and promised it was so totally out of character that he could not understand his actions, at all.

‘ It will nevr, ever happen again, I swear. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Look let’s sit down and have a drink’.
‘Get the hell away from me, you animal’, her voice so very loud. Don’t you ever, ever come near me again’.

He needed her to quieten down, what of the neighbors, his main concern. His reputation and place in the community, at risk. He thought best than to decide to talk her down, he would just be quiet, so as not to make the situation any worse.
She gathered her belongings, threw the half filled glass of champange at him,

‘ I’m very particular about whom I get involved with, you freak’, she roared.

With that she slammed the apartment door, and made her way into cold, rain sozzzled night.

 

Alice.

That was the word that filtered down. That’s what he, she or whatever ‘it’ was preferred to be called. I did not no where to look, or even what I felt. My mind a myriad of emotions, and none of them good. Fear, bewilderment, anger, disgust, mixed with compassion, love and loss. Many deeply felt emotions, too confusing to try and name and describe.

I didn’t want to think, let alone feel. Did not want to see ‘it’. This monstrosity. This God almighty freak, that was now part of this family. Part of the family , that I by some unfair fluke of nature was related to. What in Gods name, had gotten into this person. What madness had somehow seeped into their warped, sick mind. My feelings towards them vacillated between, embarrassment, shame to acceptance and sorrow.
To say peaceful nights and mellow days were hard to come by, would be quiet an understatement. I had not seen him, her, whatever the bloody hell this  monstrosity was, since that crazy statement filtered through all those months ago. Like some sort of sick joke, from the depths of a warped, depraved, and perverted mind.That they had decided they were transitioning or whatever the politically correct term is.
In my own language, they had gone all bloody peculiar and odd. Sick in the head. That’s how I described them. Never mind their transitioning, change or whatever…
How was this going to effect us, as a family. My brothers and sisters. Would we not be the laughing stock of the small town, of the area, if not the whole country. The closed, narrow minds of small town Ireland, would never, could never understand, nor comprehend  something so foreign and alien to them, to their world. Perhaps were we in a large anonymous cosmopolitan city. Perhaps their people would be more accepting and understanding, and could care less. Too busy with their own lives to care.
Through other family members I forwarded my pleading, sensible suggestion. That they move to a large cosmopolitian city, to save us the shame and embarrassment, were this family secret to come to light. I left the small town the very next day. Took my own suggestion and lost myself in that large annoymous city. From that day to this I have never looked back. What became of that family member, I neither know nor care.