Life's Stage Right

On a sleepy moon's day,

a cataclysmic eruption in my dear mother's womb ushered my birthing

entrance to this fair world, a world in turmoil,

the warning of death and hope of life

crying,

yelling to the skies, or the ceiling of the hospital at least, followed the push

to life's stage right,

all bright-eyed, round head and curiosity

never be sated, a curiosity that would accompany me

from crawling to walking,

crying to mumbling to talking, never-ending talking

existence was

just that, in the beginning...

existence for the sake of it, without a fight

existence because what else was there to do,

no other option, it was easy

all

cries, feeds, smiles, feeds, drinks, toys, laughter, sleep, zoo trips and family

the story goes as all stories go,

life

caught up with my existence and at double figures

life

sunk its teeth in, the world was not all rainbows—sunshine,

though never as bad

as those who endure real traumas,

it taught me time and again, that people, can be so much

but often choose the base of cruel, loathe rather than late, reflecting as a mirror

on the world at large, the great wide open world at large,

Even I, when discussing a birthday party in the 80s/90s, decided it was a good idea to tell a boy he was not invited because I didn't like him. What did I base that on? The ravages of time and many friendships forged and destroyed, relationships, schools, colleges and work have left me only with the memory of those words "because I don't like you." and nothing else.

precipitation, punctuated

everything

from the start to now

past to present

sitting in class, hating to be swallowed, hoping to be swallowed

shadowing eclipse, greatness dulled

do we have enough letters to explain you?

we didn't use any letters to explain me...

ADD. ADHD. ASD, what do you want to be?

Those letters were never offered to me

so I stumbled without the map, the key

never fully understand the makeup of me

which may, yes it may

explain why the abyss welcomed me

abyss choked me, without a hope of a soul

any soul, reaching out and pulling me in—

One thing I remember from that period is I was walking along the streets of my hometown, just walking along, and a familiar face from school called me a red cabbage as he walked passed me. What's a red cabbage? To this day, I do not know what a red cabbage is as an insult. But, even if an insult has no clear meaning, it's an insult and when you are in your mid-teens and not too sure, not too confident and with bottom-of-the-barrel self-esteem, even the strange and left-of-the-field insults can hit just as the ones you know well. It felt like a mirror reflection of the times I'd be named stupid, I'd been named useless. Whether teacher, classmate or just random... people.—

as bad as it sounds, as I said before, the abyss choked me, without hope of a soul, reaching out and pulling me in

but family, but... music

became a lifeline

the glorious sound of everything

anything

to the tune of Dropped D

anthems of outcasts, the never-fit-ins

smooth lubricates dulled

with their fire in the oesophagus

and the lightness, the faded misery

before the great and dulled awakening

the darkness that chokes

blown, lifted, when the south met the north

she entered my life, as the warm front to my cold back

existence became our existence

her voice became a beacon of hope

her whispers, her laughter

the map

long phone calls spent gazing at the wall, imagining each other, describing and sharing our days became short flights and long stops in her hometown

the romance that blossomed as we were two at turning points in our lives, divorce looming for one and college burning out for the other. That is me

plain sailing, in dreamed realities, but

no

realities were plain sailing

time's crooked hands, unrelenting, had turned, and with them

later life brought its fair share

in reminders

of people's deftness for cruelty

my cruelty, my shadow

blotted the joy

repeatedly

in our existence

resistance seemed futile

as the vice-grip of sin

tortured good

pleasured bad

hypnotised worse

Fractured together, we were never

suffocated better

the pieces of a whole that fitted

I, creator

misshapen, misaligned

we, victim

my coldness, your rough edges

I, perpetrator, on the road to Perdition

fractured forever

I imagined—but not so—

as relentless as time is—

sharpest of edges dull and soften

as carved pathways provide passage

we, target-locked and dragged along the rugged path to the underworld

the mismatched pieces

my doing, all, without recuse, excuse, reason, season, the treason, the betrayal

of broken

the dismay, the anguish,

lust, not

languishing desire

love

unkept trust, promises denied

now, as I stand at the top of two-thousand twenty-five

forty-five years on this rock, this rotating rock

atop the mountain of misery, mistakes and missteps

peering down the jagged mountain slopes

looking down at the slurry as it kisses the edge of the peak

I see—potential—possibility

in the climb, in the sky

not down, not out

we are not

not fractured

forgiven, not forgotten, never forever thrown away

inflicted by no one other than—me

the chasm is not all-consuming

given another chance to live up to the promise

to breathe more freely, separate from the trauma

a bridge built plank by hardwearing plank

across the chasm created by only me

no erasure possible

but a future

We can pull ourselves out

I can win the fight

For us

“As you go through life's rich tapestry, you realize that most people you meet aren't fit to shine your shoes. It's a sad fact, but it's true. A good friend is someone who'd hide you if you were on the run for murder. How many of them do you know?” ― Lemmy Kilmister

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Completely autobiographical. No apologies. Thoughts, feelings, complaints, issues, problems, solutions, and comments are welcome as always!

Here are some other things: