Death Diary - Endymion

Really good to hear from you Olga

***********************************


Strength in Nature


She was a frail flower
Sitting peaceful in the springtime sun
A blanket tucked around her knees
Thought I'd get out of their way, she smiled
Glancing towards the house
Where a young birthday was being celebrated
We're of a similar mind you and me, she said
Patting an empty chair
Do sit a while and talk
Behind us children ran and laughed
While I sat silent beside her
Are there good things?
She enquired at last
Yes
The world around me
Not people necessarily
But the land, the sky
A misty dawn - watching the sun, rise
These are things you love and need?
Yes
Why? What do you feel when you look at these things?
Feel?
Yes
What do you feel?
I turned my head to watch
The sun playing through the leaves
It makes me feel….
The magnificent sky beyond the slope
Of a rising hill alive with trees
It makes me feel that….
In the quiet I sensed the miracle of things
And the truth fell into me

"It doesn't matter what happened to me"

Yes, yes
She laughed and clasped her hand to mine
I was amazed
For the first time in my life
I felt saved




Endymion 2007

Powerless


I was eight years old that day
Water pouring into my eyes
Arms flailing
His face blurred, wavering
Above a shroud of glassy suffocation
As his hand, like a crab
Curled tight
Down, down I went
Weak struggling in surprise
Bubbles rising towards the light
Now I read about the US Waterboarding
Torture that I can relate
And I remember my abuser
Who killed me first when I was eight




Endymion 2007

The Storm


Inside I listened to the storm
As it came tearing
Down from the moor's black, rocky skylines
Like a thousand demons
Screaming
Ploughing up the wizen tree
Sending it crashing
Clambering
Like bloody hands at windows
Thumping
Rage-filled at the bolted door
Savage howling
A thirst for blood
Revenge
A monster towering
I looked up at the flickering lights
Saw my shadow
Falling
While somewhere off into the night
A wounded man was calling



Endymion 2007

Endy, I like the way you're using landscape, nature & the elements in these recent poems. So I was wondering: are you still photographing the landscape? I really liked the moodiness & the power of some of your photographs from a while back ....

Hi Olga

It's true I haven't been out much lately with my camera - actually I haven't been out much at all.
What d'you know? I'm turning into a hermit, Olga.

I can make the effort to get on a train and go to London on a demo - but leaving the house for any other reason is starting to be a problem. I'm writing, or searching the internet all day now (and sometimes all night).
I don't use other forums, I haven't got the time, but I'm working on several writing projects at once - some political, some fiction and of course, the poetry.
I don't know why.
It's like I have something I need to say and no matter what I write - that isn't it.

The urge to write is both a good and bad thing. It's good, because I need the distraction of it - but it is also bad, because it starts to feel so intense - like being driven - and that would be okay, except that the driving force is pain.
I have to find what it is I need to say.
I try and be as honest as I can - but I also know that my writing is 'held back' - I don't understand how, but it is.
That probably sounds mad, coming from me - but I'm sure that's right. Maybe it's a fear of showing too much of my sensitivity (which confounds even me).
I keep thinking about writing that isn't a poem exactly, but not a short story either. Something descriptive.

Perhaps I should write more about nature. I think nature has helped me before, when I was a kid and maybe it could again.
At the moment I can't get out into it, but that doesn't really matter - in a way being cut off from it is forcing me to think a lot about what it means to me.
This is going to sound even crazier than mad - but sometimes I don't want to look at nature because it's too painful.
(Don't worry, I don't really get it either)

Sorry Olga, you seem to always catch up with me when I'm heading back into the maelstrom

And how are you?

Peace
E

Hi Endy,
your poem "Chisel and Hammer " is sooooooooo AWESOME(the rest are also great)Anyways, this one...i'm almost addicted to it(yeah, it does sound pretty crazy)i've read it like a thousand times already....
and the other one..."Powerless"... i can almost relate to it...it's quite...can't find a proper word for it....
Love
Naima

I wrote it as a kind of rap poem because rappers often 'stammer' their lines on purpose - so it seemed to fit that way.
Feel free to cut a rap record of it :wink:

seriously, thanks for telling me, Naima - you've made my day (even my year).

Peace
Endy

dude if you get this composed and out it'll be a hit for the century

BTW, i didn't see it that way(in a rap form, i mean)
but i'm still addicted to it.....
i'm gonna call this poem addiction syndrome....
Ever gotten it?

yes - you bet

btw - thanks for the poem on the Revolution thread - I'll try and answer your question later -

peace
Endy

Hollow



Like a broken-legged dog, crawling from the mob
Down a bloody street
Like a garden snail crushed, to slime and dust
Under heavy feet
Like a river turned to scum, a cold killer's gun
Or a corpse beneath a sheet
Like a mountain sliced in half, by a man-made path
Or having nothing to eat

Like a teenager held, in chains in a cell
Towns destroyed by war
Like a drowning man, who's lost sight of the land
And can't swim any more
Like a building in flames, leaving scant remains
Of what was once a home
Like a girl in pain, cursing death in vain
And dying all-alone

Like an awful mistake, that you somehow make
When the pressure is on
Or the death of a flower, which lasts less than an hour
When the sun has gone
Like a beaten man, who can't understand
How the hell he lost the fight
Or another bad dream, that ends in a scream
In the hollow of the night



Endymion 2007

Good morning, Endy.

That's interesting, what you said there. As though through the process of writing you're trying to discover (or nail down?) what it is you want & need to say. You'll get there, I'm sure. Keep with it. I must say you're certainly very productive at the moment! I really like your 2007 poems.

The idea of attempting a short story is interesting & would certainly give you a different avenue to explore your thoughts. Why not give it a go? (Though don't let me talk you into it if the inspiration doesn't exactly come naturally! :wink: )

How am I? Thanks for asking. Been better, been worse ... somewhere in between, I guess? (How wishy-washy non-committal is that? Having a bob each way. )

Greetings to you on this beautiful Autumn morning, Endy.
- Olga

Hi Olga - this made me smile. When I was a kid, my guardian used to take me with him into the betting-office sometimes (it was full of really interesting people). I was allowed to put 50p each-way on a horse - while he put many times that much 'on the nose'.

It was great when his horse came in second and mine third!

There was this one time.....

(just kidding)

Hope you're soon feeling better than so-so, and really, thanks for stopping by.

Peace
Endy

Unforeseen



She was a broken soul
Held upright by her elders
We watched her walk towards the truth
Small steps of fear
Her eyes following the empty ground
Closer, closer
No one moved nor made a sound
Only waited
Aware of the giant sun
Red Mars falling into a black horizon
Silent she sank to her knees
Her arms, her hands, her fingers
Stretched before her, rigid
Her eyes widening, widening
Until a scream of grief shook the sky
Shattered windows
And caved in roofs
Her arms spreading wide
She was tortured
She was raped, beaten and crucified
There lay her three beautiful children
Side by side by side
Waiting for her last caress
The unforeseen goodbye



Endymion 2007

Ouch!
this one really makes you feel the intensity!!!

Is There Time?



It's a long way down to the surface
Of the water at night
Black river framed by city lights
He's still just a kid, but he's ready to blow
The world's one f*cking crazy place
And he should know
He watches a cruiser pass under his feet
Behind him the traffic rolls on down the street
He feels somehow, somewhere
He's already been beat
But can he let go?

How would it feel to fall out of the sky…
To plunge to the depths in a blink of an eye
Is there time to kiss the world goodbye?
Nobody knows….




Endymion 2007

checking in

I just found this tonight


Post Traumatic Stress and Triggers

It's a new thread by squinney in Medical News & Health
Looks like it could be very supportive
I wish it well
You never know - another two and a half years of this place and I might even
get up the nerve to go and say hi to them myself...



Hi ehBeth

G'day.

One More Dream


In the mirror
I see the hall behind me
Old parental home
Of woodworm and rotten laughter
Sometimes you call me
To your threadbare temper
A dream that screams between
The desert and your doorways
Faces that leave blood-smeared impression
In the nightmare loneliness of my confusion
The cure for my pain
Is nothing but an illusion




Endymion 2007

Hey Endy,
This one and a couple of others(by you) get me wondering... Do you really believe?
not faith in god or anything like that...
just belief... for the sake of it!
Keep dreaming!and Manifesting!
Naima