Tag Archives: emotion

Re: Definition?

I’m not the kind of man that can have his manhood away, Jamie Neville, fellow cast member.

Although my body no longer feels the emotional weight of a week of shows, I find my mind is still processing it all. It is still at the checkout scanning everything on the conveyor belt and counting the cost.

Now that I’ve cross-examined masculinity and mental health, what do the words “Man Up” mean? The negative association it had has been vanquished by virtuous relationships. Machismo is no longer the main mode, nor is there shame or intentional repression.

Maybe I was privileged to have encountered so many genuine people at once. Maybe it’s the post-show comedown. What I do know is that there is hope. Man Up is a statement of encouragement to be open and honest with yourself. It is a smoke signal for friendship and fostering positive behaviours. It is men recognising that they are not alone or other men cannot be their best selves alone. To hear those words is to tell someone that you’re ready to serve them, to support them.

I could argue whether the phrase should still exist, I won’t because I know it will outlive me. This phrase is a statement of your attitude and intent.

If I’m committed to using what I’ve learned then I will listen without judgement. I hope to understand the journey and help you along the way. Maybe we’ll see the finish line together. Are you ready for that level of vulnerability? Can your ego and prejudice stand down to help a man up?

If you’re the kind of man that can’t have his manhood taken away, your actions will answer the questions. I live in hope.

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Filed under Just Living

FROM

Image result for journey

Snap chat masking me

What is Masculinity?

His story is mine.

Wheels of the divine?

Magnolia tears screeching

Preaching can’t reach in

Chat rooms and emails

Soul ties and habits

Are they devils or detail?

Masculinity

On the ropes and off the rails

All is vanity

All I’ve got is me

Hands low chin tucked backing up.

Trying to give a

Swing for upper crust

Walk on to the uppercut

Dying to give a

Mourning a mauling

Stabbing at stepping forward

Falling without love.

Ballads and parables

Man of cool to manacles

Just a wailing wall

 

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11 / 30 – The switch

Sweet natured berry

Your pain left the world with you.

Love and pain blurring

The cycle pedaled

Your light’s ever bright

Framing you through us

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Random Poetics

Hibernation, Marching On….

Six weeks or more since we spoke, that’s a long time.

Like the last cigarette of a smoker, I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.

Carving pain with polygraphs.

Painting purposeful positions with pompous palettes rendered me empty.

Empty as the dead sea having seen and read my last rights I wondered what makes me blue.

While pondering the poignancy of strong silences and babbling brooks, fight dripped from me.

Tiptoeing away like the last breath of a beer tap. I dripped

I dripped as the infantry of my infantility

I dripped, tripped and rolled around in my barrel of conspiracy.

Being gassed wasn’t the right energy.

To thine own self, be true or make thyself an enemy.

Infamy isn’t in for me so I found the trending topic that cut into me.

Started chewing on some Emerson and audited my inventory.

Tasting the deep dark, unveiled statutes of clarity

Alas! I march on yet I’m thankful for February.

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Blues on The Piste

Five years

Time served

Pining for her

10 months

Collapsed lungs

Lost love

You’ll never bring them back

No four warning

Dumb, dumb

Forever ever

Numb

Co-ordinate

Pack the case

On four tune out

You’ll never bring them back

History doesn’t think twice

No Sleep in the house of rest

Wrestling the lull of bye

Secrets open as I closes

You’ll never bring them back

History and legacy

Now the Old Testament

Like sold memorabilia

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring them back

You’ll never bring her back

You used to have it all ……but now

Silence is murder

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Paper Thin Walls

paper thin walls
Paper thin walls
They keep mixing colours
Blending her out
On those paper thin walls
Paper can’t cover the cracks
On those paper thin walls
A doodle draws a whimper
The thought of making murals musters mournful murmurs from those paper thin walls

Passed around like a guest book at a funeral
The feeling fading as they drive away
The whitewash isn’t cleansing
A broken slate is never wiped clean
She is only 15
Miss Paper Thin Walls

Laying bricks, roofless
All her rocks are demons dancing in the sea of safety
Her will shredded like leaked script pages
She’s an over plucked daisy
On her knees she a dress maker seeking out hope like a lost sequin
Wondering where was God when man destroyed the self she’d believed in

Miss Paper Thin Walls pores over scattered bricks
From the many times her box has been ticked she’s an exam in herself
Exiled from affection, ignoring the laws of attraction.
Hands that reach her are fractured to heal her scars
When she’s fully built she may be chasing cars
For now…..she’s in thrall to the casket of cat calls
These travails are an ailment of which no ointment can heal
When she’s fully built she’ll bruise the serpent’s head and heal
She’ll no longer be Miss Paper Thin Walls

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Sprung (52/10)

daffodils

She handed me Daffodils
Like acid rain curating a rock face
I crumbled
My eyes like barren barrels filled with fatherly fermentation
Her smile could not smell my in sense
If posession is nine tenths of the law, then holding them I was broken
Sometimes silence is the truth unspoken
Yet when she planted those daffodils, my future exploded
I became a golden goal den
Yearning for the day, when daffodils aren’t the only ting I’m holding

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