Is depression dark?

Entering the tunnel of love, I ask myself ‘is depression dark?’, along with the sounds from cold, running watered glass, shattering my ears with a rush, my heart dying with a tightly wound crush!.

All at once, the winding tunnel wrenches blackness to daylight, the Kalashnikov sound of water flow, releasing into a ripple, joining what can only be described as wide mouths of screaming children on high rides, laughing, enjoyment to the full.

Birds in cages squawking revolutionarily speech to ice cream slurping brats, women crying bitter sorrow to each other, ‘men!, bastards!’, every one, big, young, old, impetuous and small, masculinity at the bar flexing muscles, standing tall, caring by not caring at all, beer swilling and a slippery fall.

Queueing traffic in the summer heat, all the time in the world to rest aching feet while looking at others in cars, also queuing to escape litter strewn streets of their holiday, puke ridden pools with sunburnt skin, white flesh displayed thin, tired from a long hard restful day.

Wonderful smiling faces surround me, “thanks for a lovely day”, they say, the very next day, ‘that’s okay’ I reply, thinking ‘I do wish I felt the same’ watching them cheerfully depart, still I feel a crushed winding of my heart, the day thunders away, I hear the sound of the river in my mind awash, lightening strikes into the night, another darkness, another fight, again I ask myself looking at the stars, is depression dark?.

Depression is a lonely journey

I awaken, its dark, I feel an ache in my heart, it’s a dread, a fear of death, a dry throat with tainted breath, blood seeps across my tongue, youth is wasted on the young, the wonder of health, a perspective view, fresh young skin with a skull tattoo.
A heart attack, a panic attack, I’m not sure which, continuing days with an unscratchable itch, life is worthless, no change made, sometimes I feel I have the mange, in a rut stuck, useless person with a pain in the butt, ridiculously ill from a fattened gut.
Once, a person full of joy, reckless, young a carefree boy, a whole being, exalted with fun, feeling the truth of what it is to be young, despair is ending, days ever ending,  O joy enter my heart, a darkened destructive way to finish a good start, what has become....
Realise after so many years, life has been hard with tears, five jobs at sixteen, fight really hard to be a somebody, to be nobody is even harder, leaving a job I loved, pleasing a cow in a china shop, it seems misery will never stop, depression is a lonely journey, now I’ve fallen off.

Baby by the river - Richard

I read a story, it caused me to weep, found in newspaper on the side of the street, a few hours old near a rat infested canal, found by a kindly soul with the miracle of how.

Mother unable to care, you were given no name then dumped you by there,  father jailed for being a member of the Krays, doing time without any praise, mother probably unable to cope left you without survival hope.

Social care with hardly any,  a child without love but love for many, your luck then changed adopted by a family with lots of love to give now at last you had a reason to live

How sad even more just to remind you of an equal score, your adopted father beat you black and blue, violent and egotistical broke your bones too, now you’ve grown, your Destiny is your own a book  of a life tainted by strife.

I thought I was unlucky, sadness from the falls your story tells me that I had hardly any at all, Richard Gallear, The forgotten child, lived to tell the tale from a miracle child to tell the tale of a man who should’ve been wild but with life brings a change to the direction of the wind, maybe change the mind of a fiend. 

May a glint of light shine through all of our darkness- God Bless. 

The Belvedere auditorium

On a cold, damp, colourful Autumn day , I arrived at the crossroads where gasps of a blustery gale were clashing into a vortex, swirling everything trapped within an invisible theatre, I sat within my vehicle frozen in amazement, stopping to glance as if in a trance transfixing my glaze, most would not have seen, instead noticing the wonderful building of All Saints well presented and quaintly built with brown and white ornate stone or the little elderly couple shuffling along, wrapped up with elegance and scarves holding hands, drenched in historical affection, not the mere sight of leaves creating a scene of pure beauty, dancing colourfully, setting the scene of the most glamorous ballet to bestow an audience, a large black Crow sitting comfortably on the pleasant wall, picking at a chip acquired from the foyer, so called the road where many quaint yet tasty food items can be bought at a reasonable price of mere diligence and patience, then the scene erupted into a finale’, swept away from existence by a trail of moving vehicles in transition to all of the most amazing places that anyone could imagine, it was then’, I could hear the trumpets and brass section wakening me from my trance at the end of the dance, horns of plenty from behind reminding me the show had finished and it was my time to depart the Belvedere auditorium.

A day in the death.

“I don’t blame you!, you simply were not thinking, You had enough on your mind, I don’t blame you for being partially blind, well I also had things to do, rather than being struck by you, still I’m not angry, what could you do”?.

“I don’t blame you!, for being in a stew, considering all the things that you had to do, but did you have to choose that day for behaving that way..I really don’t know what to say”.

“I don’t blame you!, you have children to feed, how were you supposed to know I had children too, now they are all alone without any precious care, fending for themselves, well if they can dare. your not to feel bad in any way, I just feel like having my say”.

“I don’t blame you!, although it’s mean, leaving a defenceless creature such as myself, perfect in every way, I narcissistically say, flattened on the ground, what was left eaten by a hound, later that day”, 

“I don’t blame you!, the little angel said, for ending my life and putting me to bed. “Well you see, I dreamt of this, so this is the thing!, I wanted to be in choir but not so soon, a hymn I will sing when the bell rings then I’ll gladly  receive my Squirrel wings”. 

Familiar Song

From Queen Mary’s to Thamesmead, all day long, different faces replicate the same familiar song, a melody of true emotion, perpetual fabrication. Never ends, but freely Goes on and on and on like Ariston. 

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Oy”.

“I’ve lost my Oyster, Oyster, Oyster, I’ve lost my Oyster Boy”.

Sometimes it changes tack, with a different verse, yet everyday the story, gets worse and worse than worse, like poetry emotion, a humble choir sing, the truest dullest tone, the same familiar ring. 

I’ve not received my Oyster mate, My Oysters damn well broken  

My Oysters broken, broken, My Oysters damn well broken.

So if you see a lonely child just trying to get along, off to school, college or work singing the familiar song, ask them to hop on fast so as not to be late, for arriving at their location, to climb the bloody gate. 

Suicide or a Bacon Sandwich?

Is it me?

Is it my destiny?

maybe it’s time that I resigned.

place a rope tightly around my neck.

what the heck.

they’d only notice for a week.

It’s not a friend that I seek.

I am me, with dark thoughts of my own.

care for a while but mostly alone.

words in my head will not stop

troubled by not knowing

what the hell is wrong!

so, so tired and not very strong

feeling I simply do not belong

from a child, where did I go wrong?

dream of a million pound, a sleep at night.

does not make any difference.

I’d  still awaken in the morning,

with a pain and a fright.

It’s time now, time to go.

I’ll make it quick 

I was always too slow.

or maybe I’ll get up, have a bacon sandwich

then I will know!.