I've been looking for you, searching the pews.
Awaiting your voice to tell me what to do.
It's 3 in the morning and I can't feel a thing.
I’m fighting my demons, but on the cusp of defeat.
Weary souls can't catch a break.
We can't catch up; we are cursed by the snake.
Aching and yearning for the Devil's debate.
......
Although you have given me a stomach upset,
Weak knees, a lurching heart, a fuzzy brain,
A high-pitched laugh, a monumental phone bill,
A feeling of unworthiness, sharp pain
When you are somewhere else, a guilty conscience,
A longing, and a dread of what’s in store,
A pulse rate for the Guinness Book of Records -
Life now is better than it was before.
Although you have given me a raging temper,
......
I
It is dawn.
Brother, rise.
Let us give vent to the rising sun, and with claps of the
Mind, welcome its waking ecstasy.
Distances prevail — measured on the sun’s distance
From the soils.
Ephemeral, morn; so we shall set forth early to lay
In our wake prevarications of morn’s trite.
......
I am a disaster,
Wallowing in self pity.
Delusions strong,
Paranoia in overdrive,
I am stalemate.
Stagnant.
Watching life pass
And I cannot move.
No dreams nor nightmares,
Lite hurts.
......
My mind's always like I'm in a solace like I'm not gonna get older but I swear it's got no clue..that my heart's gonna crumble, stumbling over what the hell I should do,that I should say nothing's wrong that I'm always gonna stay young and not take the fall for all the blames I've seen it all, apart of me it's like a bursting seem it's gonna tare I get so scared of that one fragile golden thread the line keeping my thoughts from becoming dead is it a sign or is it what's said am I a solace to you or am I a cage to me instead?
Continue reading
I've been looking for you, searching the pews.
Awaiting your voice to tell me what to do.
It's 3 in the morning and I can't feel a thing.
I’m fighting my demons, but on the cusp of defeat.
Weary souls can't catch a break.
We can't catch up; we are cursed by the snake.
Aching and yearning for the Devil's debate.
......
I
It is dawn.
Brother, rise.
Let us give vent to the rising sun, and with claps of the
Mind, welcome its waking ecstasy.
Distances prevail — measured on the sun’s distance
From the soils.
Ephemeral, morn; so we shall set forth early to lay
In our wake prevarications of morn’s trite.
......
This poem was inspired by scots poems and is about inspiration that can be found in nature. I saw a visitor's book from Corrour Bothy from the 1930s which was the catalyst of inspiration for this poem.
Some translations for non-scots understanding readers:
Bothy - small remote shelter for hillwalkers
Braw - if something is braw it is good
Bonnie - pretty
Baltic - freezing
Dreich - dull
Drookit - drenches
Burn - small river
......
I am a disaster,
Wallowing in self pity.
Delusions strong,
Paranoia in overdrive,
I am stalemate.
Stagnant.
Watching life pass
And I cannot move.
No dreams nor nightmares,
Lite hurts.
......
I can see
What you cannot
Oh how I wish
To be
Without the onslaught,
For sometimes
I feel sick
Overwhelmed
Mind racing, intruding thoughts
Are these my own?
......