Posts Tagged ‘reality’


what was life like
before the headaches
back in the stillness
of a hot July day
i remember thinking was
clearer, sharper, faster,
more focused, more…real
now things are…
cloudy, slow, blurry,
confusing sometimes
less important, less meaningful,
sapping all the energy i have
getting the washing up done
is an achievement someday’s
whereas before the headaches
it was five forgotten minutes
just like that hot day
in July is now…


It’s the day when dreams come true. My first day at big school, Tong Comprehensive. I remember looking at Tong when I was at Holmefield First and dreaming of what it would be like to go there, be there, feel so grown up, feel like an adult. And now that day has come, I’m here. I stand in the playground surrounded by children and teachers. Everybody seems to know what they’re doing. Except me. I am in the eye of a storm. I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t feel grown up, I don’t feel like an adult. I feel adrift in space, floating like a piece of driftwood in the ocean. Is this what it’s like to grow up and be an adult? Lost and not knowing what you’re doing or where you’re going or what you want? If it is take me back to that moment when I looked over at Tong and dreamed of going there. I knew where I was that day, I knew where I was going, I knew what I wanted. Take me back to that moment when life was to be enjoyed and not now when life is a continuous series of never ending storms taking me everywhere but where I want to be.


Dad had a good job at the Co-op warehouse. It was easy to get to, only 10 minutes walk from home and the wages were decent. We bought a colour TV, music centre and other bits to bring us into the 20th century. I was happy at school and playing with my new friends. Mum was happy with her part time cleaning job. Everything seemed fine. More money for dad meant more to spend on beer and consequently late nights and days off work. Eventually it all caught up with dad and he was sacked from his job for persistent days off. Alcohol had taken over his life and now it had a knock on effect on ours too. Less money meant less for food, bills and little treats. Dad continued drinking, sometimes going missing for days, coming home with cuts, bruises and torn clothes and no memory of what had happened. If only dad could have kept off the alcohol or at least drunk in moderation things might have been very different, but I’ll never know. I only know the reality that I lived through and can only guess at the reality that might have been.

seconds

Posted: September 4, 2019 in poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , ,

making the most of every second
before they float away on the breeze
following the path over the moors
gone before you have time to breath
on the breeze of a autumn day
life is short, time is fleeting
make the most of every second
before you realise you’ve missed them
and you can never catch them again


searching for a key
yet to be cut
to fit a lock
rusted by time
to open a door
that leads nowhere


One of the biggest problems I face in my daily life living with Asperger’s is not only understanding the facial expressions and non-verbal communications of others but understanding how my own facial and non-verbal expressions ae interpreted and understood by others. I spend a lot of time wondering and worrying if I come across to others the way I intend or if I’m misunderstood, misinterpreted and come across in a completely different way. This last one could be a possibility as I have been surprised and confused by the reactions of others when I have looked at them and they have responded completely differently to how I expected.


does the key to life, to living
come not from the concrete
maze encasing society
in a man made prison
but from wide open spaces
of grass, heather, trees, mud,
rolling hills that go on forever
and release humanity
from the mad made
shackles of modern life
if only for a short time


anticipation builds
excitement intense
grains of sand
pass through hands
nothing left
but faded faces

poem for today

Posted: September 23, 2016 in poem, poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

furtive glances
lives in eyes
tell stories
without words
no more is said


conversation goes
words flow
voices stop
silent world