Poems About Life
Writing / Poems / Poems About Life
Midnight Vac
I awoke to the blaring sound
of a vacuum
and its head
thudding against the skirting board
of the room next to mine.
the clock read midnight.
it was a fellow guest at lodge 45
but I hadn’t been there long enough yet
to know who.
I decided to find out.
I opened my door
to the sound of the device
violently assaulting the empty hallway,
the culprit’s door wide open,
with no regard,
as if it were their world.
I donned my “rh” embroidered bathrobe,
gifted by an ex
and floated down the hall
towards the noise,
the bathroom at the end my alibi.
as I approached the perpetrator’s doorway
to peer in,
primed and half ready to pop off,
the sound of their television
blared australian free-to-air dogshit,
which was nostalgically cute in a way
but obnoxious all the same.
in what felt like slow motion,
I poised as I came square with the doorway.
all of a sudden,
my eyes found those
of a middle-aged vietnamese man,
shirtless
and vigorously running the vacuum
towards me and back
as if clearing traces of a murder scene.
glaring, hospital-like fluorescent lights
rebounded off the walls
of his small room,
illuminating the shock and subtle shame
in his third-world eyes,
appearing dumbfounded
at the idea of another soul
being in the building
of the thirty-room guest house.
as I left his sight
and entered the bathroom,
I laughed with endearment,
recalling it was the same asian gentleman
who had commented on the plant
I was carrying to my room
a couple of weeks earlier.
“ahhhh you like plants!?!?”,
he observed with excited cheekiness
through a strong accent,
as he rolled by me in the hall with his bicycle
that afternoon.
“aahhhh … yeah! … haha!!”, I said.
I laughed off the midnight vac
like I did the plant commentary,
flushed
and went back to bed.
my first month at lodge 45 was good.
I was settling in.
The Sick Grind
what do those like us do
in a system like this
not made for us?
a game much harder to win
where no job feels right
or sustainable
or worth the effort
an impossible task
only just better than starving
what do we do
when we lack the drive
that those others have?
that endless fuel
their relentless drive and goal
both the same
except there is no goal or end
just drive
but heading where?
to success?
money, things, women, admiration?
many I’ve seen
only really have money
and things
and received indifference
not women
at least not the ones worth having
the sick system demands a sick grind
short loops of many
all linked to one long chain
several year jobs
you inevitably tire from
start and end
start and end
most of them not touching your soul
not even close
but you don’t want to starve
or sleep outdoors
so you re-enter the game
into another gig
and it goes on and on
and your spirit is sapped
leaving you with only the desire
to medicate and melt into screens
you can’t seem to escape the shame
shame of your businesses failing
shame of having to get a job
shame of watching you watch yourself
get cucked into employment once more
shame of not having the balls to be homeless
a free street dweller
with the luxury of being able to
just focus on your craft
whatever that may be
are the street dwellers and us the same?
a tribe of fellow unhingedmen
only separated by the indoors and out
between courage and cowardice
intelligence and ignorance
sanity and insanity
and where are the women like us?
the ones who get it
do they even exist?
do they live in the shadows
or hide in plain sight
as desperate mutes?
a street-dwelling woman
is a lot sexier to a man
than the other way round
so maybe that answers it
at a hard time in history
to live not rich in a big city
what do those like us do?
keep grinding hard
burning out
just so we can have somebody to touch?
to avoid the shame of being a loser
of embarrassing our parents?
or is there an escape?
can you actually make it out?
relatively quick
while you still have the time and energy
to enjoy your life
and if so how do you find it?
where do you look
and how do you know that’s the passage out?
and do you keep looking
and never stop
until the very end?
do you keep fighting the sick grind
until you’ve escaped?
and if you don’t
then die on the road?
is that the point?
is that what those like us do?
if there is a way out
for those of you who have escaped
or can
leave some clues
mark the trails
and hope one day
those tracks lead as many of us
to freedom and peace
that the gods will allow
Bath of Loneliness
there are times in life
where there’s a big change
and you find yourself
suddenly alone
real alone
where connections pull away
and retreat into their own bubbles
it’s not obvious at first
and then it hits you
there’s a shift
and suddenly you’re stranded
there’s a fear
a subtle panic
a bleak forecast
of what your life will be
questioning if things will change
if you’ll feel the warmth of company again
or if the loneliness will increase
and become colder
and darker
the feeling hits like a harsh winter air
on your bare skin in the bathroom
the moment you’ve undressed
it’s uncomfortable
confusing
unjust
you may want to frantically motion for the water
but if you just stand for a moment
with the sensation
the coldness wanes
and you realise it’s not even winter
the isolation remains
but you’re ok
at least not afraid
stay in this space right here
and focus
lower yourself into the bath
and feel the nice water
the more you edge in
the more the discomfort melts away
as you scan yourself for cold
your spirit will still feel it
despite your body now warming
as the tub fills
lay back
and ease into the water
the bath of loneliness
feel the cold air of fear fade
submerge yourself
and let the loneliness grip you
watch the air get choked by steam
disapating into irrelevance
and let the liquid soothe you
feel at peace
be one with it
see that you won’t freeze
or drown
let the loneliness grip
let your soul be calm
let it feel good
and be alright
as you sail through this passage
and into the next era
Full Moon
the full moon appears again
catching me off guard
with it’s striking glow.
I’m confused
trying to decode it’s meaning.
it happened almost six months ago
when it gave me a wink
telling me to re-pursue.
it had been turning in my mind
to revisit,
give it another go
but this time the right way.
and when the moon winked at me
through the small gap
of apartment buildings
across lavender bay,
mystically and impossibly,
I took it as a sign
to go at it again.
at that time my spirit was sick
and body trying to tell me so.
something was wrong
or becoming bad
and not just because
of the state of dad.
I needed an escape,
to get my own loot
and rid me of this grind.
now almost six months on
feeling semi hopeless and unsure
and burning out,
I’m not sure this is the answer.
I can’t tell if I’m doing it out of ego
to not have to admit
it has beaten me or will.
but I can’t tell
if that’s just another excuse.
and now the full moon has reappeared
I’m not sure what it really means.
only a slight hunch.
plan is to continue going hard
but at the right things,
towards the right people,
making the right moves
and see what happens.
it’s a bizarre clash though.
my three-quarters lazy ass self
and space cadet mind
who just want to
lounge, write and indulge,
collide with the ambitious quarter of me.
the part that’s kept me grinding
for the last 18 months
since colombia
which climbed me out of a bad spot.
but the quarter is growing tired of its labour,
it’s inherently misdirected task,
sapping it’s energy and will.
got a quarter tank left
to throw at this
and see if I can make it real
or fail and watch the vehicle conk out.
if I succeed,
I win.
if I fail,
I win too.
because both mean I hang up the phones
and put this grind to bed for good
and unlock the golden handcuffs.
the full moon gives me a wink
and I don’t have a clue
what’s on the other side of it
but I’m curious to see.
Dolor
embrace the pain.
sit with it.
you will forget it soon.
you will look back,
and it will all be genius.