Empty Life

daniel-jensen-763633-unsplashPhoto by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash

Empty life, gambling urges, coming on strong
Yes, I give up, I give in, your stronger than me
I cannot resist, this urge I have to feed
There I have done it, I have gambled, I have lost once again
Why dose it feel so wonderful to be back here again
What’s the psychology of this disease
Where I find no peace, nor contentment until I deplete my finances
I will struggle over the next few weeks, all my own fault of course
Don’t you Pity me, don’t you do that
My choice’s, decisions by my own hand
You can never win, at the casino’s, take my word
No matter how inviting it looks on the screen, and the possibilities they offer to entice
Don’t you be drawn int that abyss of misery, worry tension and concern
Cause that’s where it is leading, when will we ever learn
A very temporary release from life’s distress, disappointment, bewilderment, and frustrations
But they will still be here tomorrow, but you like I, will have a lighter wallet
While those on the other side, will laugh, smirk and live it up, at your expense.

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Regret.

glenn-carstens-peters-207729-unsplash-1024x675
Photo Credit : Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash.

Alone in the silence of the forest he searched for it. Memories of happier times. A memorial made in nature, to remember them forever. The few sounds, the branches and mulch, leaves crunching and melting and giving way under his feet.
After some time searching he came across the memorial nature offered. His mind journeyed to those times, they had all enjoyed here. The laughter and picnics they had shared, at this place. His hand lightly touched and traced the heart shaped indent in the tree, and the names enshrined within. He thought of them both, but not for long, as it was too painful. He lifted the whiskey bottle from where it was now a permanent fixture, forever close by, just inside the shabby coat, that had seen much better years.
It was his way of dealing with what should not have been. The alcohol offered some very brief temporary relief, until he sobered up, and then he would follow on that pointless road, of sorrowful drunkenness, much regret, and yet more alcohol to numb the pain. A never ending crazy pointless circle. But as a method to block all memories, good and bad, there was none better alcohol.

‘I’ve watched you’, the voice startled him. But it was soft, gentle and compassionate.
‘I watched you from afar many times, but sensed you wanted to be alone with your hurt and sadness’.

He turned to see the owner of the voice. She had a softness, a calm strength, and quietness about her. He was embarrassed and ashamed of how he must had looked to her. Unshaven, dirty, with unkempt clothing, and badly in need of a bath. He found it hard to focus, but managed to make out her outline.

‘You must be hungry. We have a cabin, not far from here. Will you join us for some food’.

He had not eaten properly in days. But nourishing sustenance was of little matter to him anymore. Nothing really mattered to him anymore. Living had lost its luster. He did not look at her, but turned away from her, as he held one hand on the heart shaped indent on the tree. How can this person be so trusting of strangers, he asked of himself.

‘No, I don’t want or need anything’, he answered quietly. Preferring his solitude, and freedom to think and come to terms with what had happened, if he ever could.

‘Ok’, but if you do change your mind, we are just over the other side of the big oak tree, on that hill. We’re the only cabin for miles around’.

With that she slowly sauntered away, without looking back. He watched her go. Unsure of what to make of her. But he certainly did like her non neediness, and thankful for her acceptance his wish for privacy, and the desire to be alone.
After she had left him, and when sure he was alone, he spoke quietly to his lost wife and young daughter, and asked then what he should do. Would they question his loyalty. The very idea of some decent food, an opportunity to clean up, while certainly not a priority, would not go amiss either.
The loud sniffling and noise, and the sensation of being watched caught his attention. He was very big when stood on his hind legs. Salvia dripping from it sharpened teeth, bigger that any man he had ever encountered, and the loud growling. The fur was dirty, and ragged, the claws on the feet and paws, frightening. Never had he encountered such an animal at close range, and was surprised at the stench emanating from it. He slowly backed away from the approaching animal. To run was to play to the animals instinct to chase. To climb high, was pointless as bears can climb as higher and faster, that nay man.
He tried vainly to remember what he had ever read, or seen about what to do when confronted by an angry, hungry animal. But his mind was unable to function under such stress. His breathing rapid, his legs shaking, and heart beating strongly in his chest in response to his body’s adrenaline. Any chance of clear thinking was minimal. He did have the fortitude to pick up a large heavy branch of a fallen tree, but guesses success against such an animal, was unlikely.
One fact he wished he did not recall, was how a bear on his hind legs can stand up to seven feet tall and larger, and are capable of tearing a mans head from his shoulders, with a wave of their arm. The bear began to run toward him. He stood his ground, aware that his last moments were soon to be, and in his semi drunken state he welcomed his own demise, so he could soon be with his departed loved ones. He just briefly wished it was not in such a brutal manner. But he briefly prayed to Jesus, and asked for it to be swift.
The perspiration dripped from his forehead, his breathing more rapid than he had ever experienced, he closed his eyes, and awaited the impact.

The shoot that rang out seemed so close, he wondered if he had being hit. The following shoots rang out in rapid succession. The large brown bear stopped, stood up on his hind feet, and growled loudly, before turning on his tail and scampering back into the woods, towards the riverbank. He searched among the trees to find the source of the rifle.
He watched the trees for a few moments before the three figures, dressed in combat uniforms emerged from the forest.

‘What the hell do we got here, eh boy’,

With that the large leader of the group spat some dirty brown chewed tobacco onto the ground. The southern twang, was just like it was in all those movies he had seen over the years. His two sidekicks laughed at the revered leader. He held an automatic rifle under his arm, cradled lovingly, just like a child. The two others, held long barrel shotguns down by their sides.

‘What the hell kind of fool comes out into the woods without a goddamn fire arm. Were going to fight that bear, with a piece of wood. Well were you boy’, and they laughed.

He could sense their aggression, and bad intent.

‘You just gotta be a dumb ass city boy, he just gotto be, dont he Wendell’.
‘Well he sure must, cause he has got the brains of a dumb ass’.

‘Why don’t you just turn round and start running back towards the city, dumb ass, and we’ll see if we can’t shoot you in the rear. Go on boy, run’.

Again the men in combat laughed at the power there weapons gave them, and the predicament the disheveled city man found himself in. The men ducked quickly as a shoot ricocheted of a nearby tree. More shoots rang out in their direction. They searched the trees for the source of the bullets, but could not find it.

The voice was firm, it was strong.

‘Okay boys, you’ve had your fun, now you git along and leave that city boy be, da’ all hear. ‘Go oonn, now scoot, afore I get real mad, and set my dogs on you’.

‘Show yourself, Godamit’, the leader of the men in combat gear demanded.

There was no response from the trees, that hid the unseen shooter. He also took the opportunity to run for cover, and headed in the direction he hooped the shots were coming from. More shoots rang out, pinning down the men in combat gear.

‘Alright Godamit, were going, but don’t you worry Missey, we’ll be back’.

The men stood up, put their hands skyward, and slowly moved back from where they came. They argued loudly among themselves, until the leader angrily kicked and punched his two companions into silence.

‘Are you okay’, he looked at her, from his position low on the forest floor’.
‘I am now. That was some crazy set up’.
‘We get it from time to time, out here in the backwoods. some times survivalists, high on weapons, illicit drugs and alcohol. Sometimes, drug gangs build chemical factories hidden on the woods, and want to keep strangers at bay’.

‘How good dose a hot meal and a nice bath sound like now’.
‘Yeah’, I’ll take it’.

With that, they headed towards her cabin, just behind the large oak tree, just behind the hill, that she had pointed out when they first meet earlier that afternoon, as she was watching him grieve for his loved ones.
With the excitement, the new events that happened that afternoon, he felt a sense of awakening. A sense of being alive. A feeling he had not encountered for quiet some time. A possibility that perhaps there was more to life, than living full of regret and remorse. Maybe this was a new chapter to his life.
They made their way to her cabin, beautiful in its remoteness, and tranquility. As the evening sun began to set, the sky turned from bright blue, into a golden expression of colur. Soothing orange and yellow hues. The crickets croaking the only sounds from the forests. As they made there way onto the wooden porch, the blonde young girl shyly emerged from inside, and ran to and hugged her Mother. Her Mother lowered her rifle to the floor, and picked up and kissed her daughter.

He was quickly sobering up, after such an eventful afternoon.

‘Are you not afraid, living here alone. Is there no man around look after you’.
‘No, we make do. We do fine, don’t we sweetheart’, addressing the young girl. ‘In any case, I’ve got my dogs, and my rifle, and know how to use it’.

‘What of those men, from today. They said they’d be back’.
‘We’ll see. But for now let’s get cleaned up, and lets eat’.

They entered the cosy cabin, lit by wicker oil lamps, and a low kindling fire. She quickly set about preparing a nourishing meal for the three of them, humming happily to herself.
He took a sat by the fire, in the rocking chair and slowly rocked back and forth, enjoying the creaking sound. The young girl studied the stranger intently, as children do, undecided whether she liked or trusted him enough, but given a few moments of serious contemplation, she decided he was safe. She approached him, as he sat by the fire, and handed him her colouring book, and showed him what she had being working on. It was long time since he had being round human company, especially children. It took some moments for his sense of unease to subside, but the young girls wide eyed innocence and open acceptance and trust of him, helped sooth his mind. Soon she was standing close to him, and helpfully showing him previous drawings she had completed.
Her Mother watched from the kitchen, as the stranger began to interact and slowly enjoy the young child’s company. With the meal soon prepared, they ate mainly in silence. Never had a warm nourishing meal being so welcome, and he greedily scoffed the food at speed, and did not refuse a second helping. After dinner she showed her guest where he could clean up, and wash himself, and gave him some male cleaning utensils, used by a previous man.
She set about putting her daughter to bed. In the low light of the bedroom she tucked her child to rest.

‘I like him’
‘I’m glad to hear that honey, now you go to sleep child’.

She bid her daughter goodnight, unsure whether she liked the stranger as much as her daughter. Sitting by the warming embers of the fire, contemplating the earlier interactions she had with the survivalists or drug runners of earlier that afternoon, she considered to herself whether they would return at some stage to cause havoc. She decided to double lock all the doors and windows tonite, and to take an extra box of shells for the rifle, which she was planing to keep in close proximity to her, through the night, should it be needed.

He reentered the lounge area of the cabin. Gone were the ragged clothes. The unkempt hair, washed and trimmed, although not expert, not a bad attempt. The face now clean shaven although still malnourished. The ravages and damage of excess alcohol more than evident. But perhaps she allowed, as she studied him, underneath all that dirt and grime, that maybe there was a fine looking, but certainly troubled man underneath.

‘My, my, my. Why don’t you look just fine.’

He smiled shyly at the compliment, and just briefly caught her eye.

‘Draw up a chair, and join me by the fire’, which is what he did.

They both stared into the burning blue and yellow embers of the fire. The warmth was comforting. He could barely look at her, and especially not catch her eye. For fear she could see into his dark and twisted soul, and the secrets it held. The malicious, cruel and sordid thoughts that he tried hard to keep at bay, but seldom succeeded.
The thoughts that troubled and plagued even more so since he had stopped taking the medication he had being prescribed. It had been some time since he had been in close proximity to a woman. The scent of soft perfume, entrancing. Her gentle feminine energy, soft, palatable. He thought of touching her, and holding her, but he let those thoughts pass. She waited patiently for him to speak, if he choose to. Allowing him the psychological space, to be as he was.
They sat in silence listening to the crackling of the burning firewood, and the occasional howling of a far off wolf in the distance.

‘Well I’m off to bed, you sleep here on the couch. You’ll find some blankets over there’, she pointed to a corner of the room.

With that she left the cosy lounge area, and left him alone with his thoughts. In the quietness his mind started to become agitated, as though some higher power, some demon, some evil part of himself he did not want to listen to or acknowledge, began to call to him. To speak to him. To fill his mind with wild ideas, and suggestions that were too terrible to listen to. He quickly went to the small hallway, where he had left his shabby coat, and retrieved the saviour from one of the deep pockets, and greedily drank from the bottle, wrapped in the brown paper bag. Anything to drown out the voices in his head, which were becoming progressively louder, urging him. screaming at him, to do what he must. Again and again he drank quickly and heavily from the bottle of raw alcohol that burned his insides as he ingested it. But he knew that soon, very soon, his mind would find, if not sleep, at least some form of peace, until he sobberd up. He thought of his departed wife and daughter, and how he loved them, and never ment to hurt them. He had begged for their forgiveness and understanding many times. But they never answered.

The sound of breaking glass, was loud in the quietness of the night. Hushed voices, swearing and foolish laughter, audible. She was half expecting some visitors and was soon out of her bed, rifle by her side, and loaded. She made her quickly towards her childs bedroom, to find her not there. In panic, she lowered her rifle to the floor, and searched frantically under the bed, in the wooden cupboards, for her daughter, and then noticed the open window, that led into the woodland. In the low light of her daughters bedroom, the three figures silhouetted in the darkness blocked the doorway.

Alone in the barn, he layed the sleeping child on some hay, staring at her young innocent face and body. He sat alone fighting the desire. The voices in his head, urging him, willing him. It was Gods wish, it was Gods way, they promised. He despised himself for what he was about to do.
He thought of his Mother, and how he hated her, for her suffocating, overpowering love.
He thought of his father, and how distant he was, never on hand, nor interested enough, or perhaps unable to offer guidance. He recalled the numerous women who had refused, or never encouraged his advances. He blamed them in part for forcing him to find an outlet for his desires elsewhere.
He thought of those in the religious fraternity who abused their power, and secrecy.
He remembered how those in authority paid him little heed. He hated them all. But mostly he hated and despised himself, for what he had become. He blamed everyone and anyone for how he was now, as a man. Blamed everyone but himself. At times he acted in ways which sickened him. His breathing became rapid and loud, the excitement further igniting the already lively adrenalin within his body. She opened her eyes, wide and innocent, and smiled as he hovered over her.

The screams from the cabin pierced his consciousness. Imbued by the alcohol, and wishing to retrieve some semblance of self respect, and self love, he ran like the hero he alway wanted to be toward the cabin, and what lay within. The three intruders laughed as they overpowered and brought her to the cosy lounge area, and shoved nearby furniture out of the way, laying her in front of the dying embers of the fire in the grate, and they like wild animals began to paw at, and ravage her clothing. She screamed again, and the leader of the group kicked her hard in the stomach, which quieted her.
He didn’t stop to think, just came crashing through the porch door, into the darkened lounge, widely thrashing and swinging his fists at anything that was standing. The intruders were caught off guard, and they fell like skittles to the floor. Amid the noise and confusion she quietly slipped away from the melee. They turned on him, and managed to grab hold of him, two holding him upright as the leader of the group, still dressed in the combat gear, of the pseudo solider, began with relish to beat and pummel his face and body. The blood tasted warm in his mouth. His vision was dimming as his  consciousness was near to blackout. Regret loomed large in his mind, for ever even coming back to this place. Still the hateful blows rained onto his face and body. A never ending assault, that would not stop until the leaders anger, and thirst for revenge was satisfied.
The light from the rifle briefly lit up the room, the noise deafening in such a small area. He slumped slowly to the floor, they were unable to hold him upright any longer, as the cartridge entered his body, at chest height. The pain indescribable, the heat, searing. They let him fall and rushed the woman with the rifle, who stood in the door frame of her daughter’s room, and angrily disarmed her. Pulled her down in front of the fire.
Like wild animals, yelping, laughing and screaming they pulled at and ravaged her clothing, and beat her about the head severely, when she used what little physical strength she had to resist. She lay silently on the ground and in the darkness of the room lit only by the crackling wood in the fire. She too began to regret getting involved with a stranger she barely knew.

 

Written in response to a photo prompt seen here : https://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

Gone Forever.

acceptence
Photo Credit  https://pixabay.com/en/users/johnhain-352999/

He is gone now, he ain’t coming back
What I wish I said, but it’s no use now, cause he is dead
Would I have said I loved you more, just so that you’d know the score
Would I have argued less, rather than trying to get inside, and upset your head
What’s the point of large regret, for all those words left unsaid
What’s the point of tears to shed, cause now you’re dead, you ain’t no more

You know the big secret now, of what’s beyond the sky
It’s where were all headed, on that day we die
Why did you do it, take your life like that
Why could not be strong like a lion, in the face of such abuse
Can’t you see the pain were in, as you look down from above
I’m praying to Jeasus your sending us, tons and tons of love

Dear brother I love you lots, even though you’re far away
I ache for us to meet again, so I can have my say
Tell you that I love, just the way you are
For in my mind you was ,and forever will be, that bright, everlasting star
I wish you could have been stronger, back here on planet earth
Why could not have been a fighter, a man who stood his ground

Why could you not have tougher, not the weakling you were perceived to be
But then dear brother, you can of course only be, what you can be
Had you been different with your love of poetry, and all the rest
Maybe I would not have considered you one of the very best
Don’t you worry, kiddo I knew just what you were, my intuition put me straight on that
Not that it matters, it was just the way you were
But to me , you will always and forever be that bright, everlasting star.

Love.

cristian-newman-67308-unsplash

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

Are you searching for love , just like me
But wherever you look, you just cannot see, someone who might fit the bill completely
What I find, are people whom I don’t mind, but would rather not become entwined with
Where’s my soulmate, my lover to be, it’s like searching the ocean for something I cannot see
Occasionally do come across a possible candidate, who may fill the role
But it’s so unexpected I’m caught on the hop, an electric shock, that we both feel
Stuck for words to invite and entice
Where are my seduction skills, my comfort, my making a connection skills
A fleeting glance, a seduction dance, would you like to come home with me
Where’s all this law of attraction, or even magick and witchcraft, trying all sorts but aint getting any traction
It aint a one night stand I’m hunting for, it’s love and comfort, kindness and more

I had a situation the other day, a lady of distinction looked my way
So taken aback was I, could not hold her eye
Prettiness like you ain’t never seen, but she was quiet taken by me
Aint too sure why, I aint no Brad Pitt, George Clooney, or some such guy
But I’m alright looking I suppose
I’m soo used to girls not giving a toss, I may as well be invisible to them
So I’m at a loss to understand all this
So anyways I approached and began to chat, she was selling whatever at some stall in the shopping centre mall
But so out of practice was I, my confidence and chatter, was not stellar, and that aint no lie
It did not help that she was Eastern European, who are not known for their warmth and friendliness, and could be construed as kinda mean, and somewhat unfriendly
The chat was functional, brief and to the point, but I did not meet the requirements of what she wanted
So I wandered off, but man, she was hot, and I wanted her, to be in love with me
What was missing from her, was warmth and engagement, that had me heading for the door
Then I read and considered, that coldness and frosteness, is the norm, ( In Eastern Europe) and perhaps she was quiet shy, with limited social skills
But man, trying to chat up a shy person, is draining, is depressing, like drawing blood from a stone, I was getting exhausted on all levels, just trying

I was not going  to let this bird go, as I fancied way too much, for that to be so
So a few days later, in the sopping centre I found myself again, after having practised and imagined my chat within,  hoping against hope, she still be there
Low and behold she was, in her beauty and prettiness, a vision to behold
I had it all planned in my head, how I’d interact with her
How it was going to be
But in my imagining I had nt anticipated the fella at the stand who wanted to speak to me
As I made my way, towards my love to be, he pushed himself forward, and hijacked me
This is not how I had planed it was going to be
As he spouted on about the benefits of the product he was trying to sell
Out of politeness I just listened well, but I could not shake him, the dirty c…
Which I wanted to soo much to do, I had zero interest in the products on sale
It was just that bird I was after, that is all I’m sayin
Eventually I made it clear to him, trying to sign me up for such products, was nothing more than a sin
His attitude quickly changed, from ‘Yes Sir / No Sir’, to ‘Alright mate, Yeah mate’, when he saw he could not draw me in
I noted that within my mind, to be ever mindful, of how people can quickly change when they can see, you int an easy mark, who can be drained
But anyways back to this bird and me, as I was leaving I approached her, see
At the time she was trying to entice and sell, to the passing consumers
My words were rapid, interview style. Not the best way to engage a female, I Know, iI know
But time was short , the pressure was on, but her answers were so functional, and business like, it just wasnt on
So I left and considered my position, did she fancy me or not, and decided the latter
After a nights sleep, and much searching on YouTube, I concluded she was perhaps shy, and lacking social skills. Add eastern European to that, and make of that what you will

So the next day again, to the shopping center I ventured, and sat nearby in Starbucks, hoping against hope she’d pass by
It would be way too awakard for me to approach the stand again, it would just be way too awardard

She did not appear, like I had imagined she would
I walked the promade, by the sea, hoping she be their
But it was not to be
I had to take to my bed, with depression and remorse
Sorrow and grief, that had to be experienced to be believed
Now at this stage I am asking what do I got to do, to make this be
I’m looking at the Sedona method, EFT, you name it
Sigils, affirmations, I am that really desperate
But that’s how it is, see
I’ll make no bones, I want to be in love
For her to be in love with me, harmony , peace and tranquility
Happiness, joy, comfort and companionship
That’s what I’m after, for t]both of us

I’m seriously hoping to meet her again, in a more better situation
Where it will flow right, much to my delight
Well I’ll just have to see what happens, weather that will ever be.

Gambling.

Casino unsplash.Photo by steve sawusch on Unsplash

Gambling.

I seem to have a problem with gambling me, I can’t seem to stop doing it, see
Even though I know I’m ain’t going to win
It’s the light’s the spinning wheels that draw you in
I win a bit now and then, but generally speaking I lose it again
The house always seems to win out in the end

But it’s also to do with the pleasure centers in the brain
The dopamine that’s secreted, help’s hide life’s pain
When you watch the spinning wheel’s on the slot’s
Will you win, will you lose
That’s the hit you’re after, that adrenaline,and that fear
That’s what you hold so very dear
That’s why you crave to try it again
Cause to the brain, it’s now a source of pleasure, and that’s when it gets tricky

Why do I gamble so much, what’s giving me such a rush
The chance to win a fortune, to take me away from here
To make my life seem happier, to make my problems disappear
They may go away for a day or two
But they always show up again, have no fear

I feel and get so angry when I lose, that I jump right back in
Spend even more money determined to win, again I lose, what a fool
But maybe I should go easy on myself, and try to uncover the reasons why
I gamble like I do
To figure out the trigger point’s
When I have them sorted out, maybe I won’t gamble so much.

The trigger point’s as I can see, are boredom, loneliness and angry energy, and uncomfortable feelings
But these feelings come and go, for everyone on this planet
I don’t want to be rushing to the casino, every time I feel this way
Emptying my wallet

How to deal with such feelings, without it costing a packet
Could try alcohol, but that’s a similar addiction
I’ve long since given up cigarettes so that’s a no, no too
As I like to keep my health in check, so that’s not something I will do

If I can see the trigger points that are forcing me to gamble
Sit down and analyze, could try from that angle, for a while
Maybe if I could stop and think about the consequences of that step
If I open up the laptop, and have another bet
But it’s not that easy to stop and think, when your mind is pushing you to gamble
When you get drawn in by the spinning wheel’s and flashing lights
The possibility of a win
But I get so angry when I lose, which is all I ever seem to do
I’m now spending cash set aside for bill’s, that’s a bad sign,and I know that

I did an online quiz the other night, to see if I had a problem
Of the twenty questions asked, I answered in the affirmative to a lot of them
Not all of course, approx fifty percent or so
At the end of the quiz, the computer said gee whiz, you definitely have a problem
I did not like that answer, so I did the quiz once again
This time not being so honest with my answers
But the computer screamed at me, yes man, you do have a problem

That set me thinking, have no doubt
I have bills to pay, ain’t got the cash today, because I gave it to the casino
Usually I’d jump back in, and try to win again
But it’s only myself I’m fooling
At least I’m lucky in a way, having a bit of insight into myself
Not ashamed to say, I may be a gambler today

But I’m going get on top of this, before it ruins my life
Cause it can bring a lot of heartache, to a family and a wife
So I think my strategy for now will be, to figure out the trigger point’s
To turn my mind to other things, when the urges come calling
To let go of the idea of revenge
To make the casino’s pay, for all the cash they’ve had from me
But that’s a foolish way to think
That kind of thinking will only make you sink
To the depths of despair, sadly you won’t be the only one there
With the odds stacked in there favour, that’s a foolish way to think
That’s a hopeless strategy
That could lead to homelessness, bankruptcy,or some other
None too pleasant possibilities

How about losing your wife, your children turning away
Perhaps a spell in prison, would that make your day
Cause these are the end destination’s where you may end up
If you continue to gamble and cannot stop
So it ain’t too funny now, if you look at it that way

I’ll read these gambling websites and see what others do
See their stories, hear their tales
Hopefully it will help me cope, when the urges come calling
I know these urges to gamble will come, but I now know they will pass
Not get drawn in, just keep deferring it for ten minutes
That way I’ll get through the day, without gambling at all
So hopefully it will get better after all

Even on the day I wrote this poem
A few hours later I was back on the laptop again
Badgered by my intuition, or so I thought, screaming at me, now’s your chance
Now is your day, it’ll make all your troubles go away
You’re bound to win, it’s not a sin, so lay that bet, it’ll set you free
It’s your way to freedom, do it and see
Needless to say I did not win, and feel very angry and foolish yet again
But I can see it’s just my mind fooling me
That’s how deceptive this addiction can be

But I’ll not get caught again, I’m mad as hell after losing again
I’m now wise to my own mind, and the tricks it plays on me
Their will be no next time, this I swear, I swear to me
The worst that can happen in a casino, is that you win
That’s what keeps drawing you back in
Believing if you were lucky once, you’ll be lucky again
It’s just a matter of getting the timing right

I’m tired of being fooled by this thing, I will not give in anymore
But even as I write these lines, I’m planning when I can get back in
Maybe limit the amount that I play, I’m sure to have a lucky day
That’s how mad this addiction is, in the past six days I’ve spent ninety quid
With very little to show for it, except for the blood pressure rising high
As I watch my bank account sink so low

I don’t know if i’ll ever give it up, as I do derive some pleasure from it
But i’ll certainly cut down the amount I spend
Try to find pleasure in other ways
I don’t feel like gambling when my mind is calm, with life going well and at ease
But how often is that, not only for me, but for everyone on the planet
So we’ll have to see how it goes, this saga of casinos and I.

                                                                                                                                               

The Patrolman.

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Photo by DEAN FAULKNER on Unsplash

Permit

He lent in through the open window, using the license, the power of his position.

‘ You show me what you got, little lady ‘.

He was reasonably young, strongly tanned, and a well developed but slim body. He looked powerful, and had that walk of authority, that walk of power. Thats what the job gave him. She so wished he would take of his dark sunglasses. To see his eyes, to gauge his intentions. Were his eyes soft and kind, or hard and mean. It was always one of the first indicators she used when interacting with someone new. She glanced at the large cream coloured motorcycle, with the helmet unsteadily perched on handle bars. His black uniform, adding to his seriousness and sense of power. The leather polished boots, and accruments of his position.

She was unsure, but hoped it was just a look at her license he was after and nothing more. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation. There was only so many she could take in a day.
She was going to leave him, that’s what she had decided. No more nonsense, no more being the scapegoat. No more fear, no more violence. It was the wrong relationship from the start, and she knew it. But out of loneliness, and her anxiety about her rapidly passing fertile years, it was a last grasp at Motherhood, and the children she yearned for. But not with him. Not now. The long drive on the open road, an opportunity to clear her head.

The crashing of metal upon metal, grating on her nerves. The Patrolman rolled forward at speed, at the impact. She took a sudden intake of breath and watched as his head hit the hot asphalt, and blood began to drain from his ear. He did not move. She glanced in the rear view to see the cause. The drivers face was sickingly familiar. Red faced and perspiring, He stumbled from the car, and raced towards hers, and quickly jumped in the seat beside her.

‘ You think you can run out on me, bitch’, his voice loud and menacing. Full of anger and violent intent.

The backhanded strike caught her full in the face. His knuckles crunching her nose, which immediately reddened at the impact. Blood flowed for the wound. He reached around the back of her head, grabbed her hair, forcefully and at speed, roughly pushed it forward, and smirked at her head bounced off the hardened steering wheel. Her vision was disappearing, as she fought against unconsciousness. Noting the same red and blue dirty checked shirt, and dirty jeans he had been wearing for the last week. Both badly in need of a wash, as he was. She watched as he took some of them from his shirt pocket, and ingested the white pills. They gave him what he had become accustomed to, welcomed and relished. That sense of instant, intense, physical and mental power and supreme confidence. That feeling of absolute invincibility. That he could take on anything thing, and everyone, with no negative repercussions whatsoever. It did not take long for them to enter his blood stream, and the resultant hyper energy, become evident. He screamed and howled like a demented animal, and hit the interior of the car roof, with his clenched fist, in rapid succession as the rush of the chemicals flooded his brain. His once permanently confirued hair, wild, and damp with perspiration. His once permanently clean shaven face, now rough, and unshaven. This was true living in his mind. Happiness unlimited.

As she fought unconsciousness, her mind reminisced about when they first met. How they were at one time truly, but very briefly in love. They spoke of the children they would raise together. The schools they would send them to. They pondered the future names, of their children to be, both female and male.
She watched through her barely opened eyes, as the Patrolman slowly struggled to force himself from the hot asphalt. His once tidy, neat black uniform, now soiled, torn and shabby. His chin grazed raw. His eyes no longer the powerful, confident eyes of only moments previously. The blazing heat, forcing vapours to raise from the highway, shimmering in the distance.

She sniffled, in an attempt to stem the blood from her nose, as it trickled down her chin. Her head thumping from her interaction with the steering wheel. Through her diminishing vision, she looked at the man she once loved, and tried to remember where it all went so wrong. Was she to blame. Could she have done anything differently. Was she the loving partner, that she always promised herself she would be, when she found ‘the one’.

He had never come to terms with it, and it haunted him forever. He never really spoke about. Perhaps once or twice, in a drunken haze. But then only very briefly. A small reference to the never ending guilt, and self hatred he felt. The remorse, and  regret. The non stop self torture. His mind never affording him much peace. She had listened to his tortured dreams, in his intermittent restless sleep. Where he begged for the opportunity to be given a second chance. To live those moments over. It was at times like that, which were many, he would quickly sit upright in the dishevelled bed, screaming loudly, and his uncovered body perspiring heavily. It was then she held him closely, and soothed and comforted him like a child, until he fell asleep.

He too watched the Patrolman slowly raise himself of the asphalt, and stagger slowly towards the car.

‘How do you like living ‘ his voice soft and gentle, while still watching the approaching Patrolman.

‘ Get out the damn car, bitch’.

The sudden change in his voice from gentleness, reminiscent of how he once was, to the loud, menacing voice that emanated from him now. Like a man possessed by an evil force, was enough to rouse her from near unconsciousness, and she took the opportunity and exited the vehicle. Laying on the hot sticky asphalt, through now barely open eyes, she watched as he revved the car engine, and aimed it at the staggering, approaching Patrol officer. A wild maniacal smile on his once handsome face.

Her consciousness sank into the welcoming darkness.

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.