Wednesday, 23 November 2011

My Poem 'Trying'. Illustrations to follow.

A poem I wrote early this year following the end of a terrible year battling heavy drinking, drugs,
and my nan's sudden death at Christmas.
I wrote the poem to express my feeling's about being stuck in a rut while I was excessively drinking and taking drugs to try and mask the depression and guilt I had following my nan's death.
The main focus in the poem is my struggle to move on and fight the drink and drugs,
even though everyone told be it would be in my best interest to do so,
and the fact that I wasn't/I'm not strong enough.


Someone once told me in a time of unknowing,
When you're going through hell, it's best to keep going.
I've reached the inferno, though through the abyss,
Over ponder and thought I've seemed to remiss.

I'm stuck in a hole dug from despair and torment,
The longer I go on, the longer my descent.
I want to give up, I want to give in,
Be who I am and wipe off this fake grin.

I'm half way through hell and as hard as I'm trying,
I can't shake this feeling of losing and dying.
I'm broken, I'm guilty, disappointing I cry,
Being weary of living but too scared to die.

I'm not after attention, nor am I a coward,
But with sadness and woe I feel overpowered.
I don't mean to annoy, to bore with my tears,
I have heard the 'tut's, I have heard the sneers.

And in my mind I've been convinced to think,
That I can abolish my feelings by downing a drink,
That forgetting the world and myself every night,
Will repair my mind and make everything right.

To tell you the truth, if these issues weren't mine,
And I had to sit and hear someone else whine,
About life, death and being afraid,
I'd think nothing of it and expect it to fade.

But I've felt like this forever, and nothing can shake it,
I've got drink, I've got drugs, so I'll grin and fake it.
I just want you to know that as much as I'm yearning,
I'm going through hell but I'm stuck and I'm burning.

Big Ben Emulsion Print.


My Nan, whom I love and miss very very much.

My watercolour painting of my late nan. This was pride of place at the wake after her funeral.
She died December 7th last year (2010). I miss her very much, especially this time of year.
Christmas isn't a happy time for me any more, I know I should use Christmas to celebrate her life, she loved Christmas, but I just can't. I seem to be the slowest healer in the family.

Cabbage; Flip, Rotate, Mirror, Flip, Rotate, Mirror.

Taken from my poem 'Trying'.

And in my mind I've been convinced to think,
That I can abolish my feeling's by dowing a drink,
That forgetting the world and myself every night,
Will repair my mind and make everything right.