anxiety · depression · habits · mind · ocd · poem · poetry · society · Uncategorized

creatures of habit

we’re creatures of habit
habitually wearing
our habits like monks
with nun but ourselves
to blame

obsessive
compulsive
some even repulsive
feeding them
eking them out
like a spiritual need

fraying
abrading
the things that we do
and those that we don’t

repressive
regressive
recessive in genes
creatures of nature
buried in nurture
abandoning instinct for more
of the same

homogeneity
sculpting imperatives
straining repetitive
drowning in sedatives
clinging on tentative
tenterhooks
vacant looks
falling in line

and minding the gap

mirroring mirrors
identity withered
reflected
rejected
one, disconnected
two for collective unconscious
three for amnesia seams
four for shredding a dream

pacified
classified
lethargy lured
with comfort and joy
enjoying inhabiting
bearable scraps
of weather-worn skin

jaded
and wasted
craving an encore
encore
an encore
craving for more
more of the same
what’s in a name
but a weary refrain
a creature of habit
taking the strain

snap!
goes the sinew
a fracture of bone
time to go home
lock all the doors
and turn off the lights
tomorrow too soon
to bring
more of the same
of the same
of the same
more of the same
a train going nowhere
again.

© robert greig

anxiety · depression · free verse · mind · poetry · psychology · self · Uncategorized

as far

as far as the eye can see
I see as far as the ear can hear
I hear as deep as I can breathe
I breathe as much as I can touch
I touch as far as I can throw
a stone as far as I can speak
my mind as much as I can write
I write as much as I can rhyme
I don’t as far as I can reach
my hand as loud as I can use
my voice as much as I am
understood as still as I can stand
I stand as clear as I can shout
I shout as far as I can say
I say as little as I am
I am as far as I am near
I’m far as near as I am far
I’m far as long as I can jump
I jump as high as I can fly
I fly as hard as I can fall
I fall as far as I come down
I come as far as I can swim
I swim as far until I drown
I drown as far as I can step
I step as much as I can take
I take as much as I can stretch
I do and stretch until I bend
and break as soon as I can sleep
I sleep as much as I can die
I die as far as I am strong
I’m weak as far as I am right
I’m wrong as far as I’m concerned
I’m not as far as I am found
I’m lost as far I can tell
I don’t as far as I can feel
I can’t as far as I am numb
I am as much as I can know
I don’t.

© robert greig 2017
 

anxiety · emotions · love · poem · poetry · relationships · romance · Uncategorized · Valentines · Valentines Day · verse

dear valentine…

dear valentine,
roses are red
though not all, some are white
some masquerade
as colours not
some almost shades of night;

dear valentine,
is it a crime
to send you words anonymous
of how I like you
just a bit
and hoping not too much;

dear valentine,
is it so strange
when secrets seem old hat
that I should not
say who I am
to keep it under wraps;

dear valentine,
do you think
I might not have a spine
or am I just
romantically
mischievous of mind;

dear valentine,
in these days
of stalkers, freaks and trolls
are you reaching
for injunctions
changing locks and blocking phones;

dear valentine,
am I sad
to think I stand a chance
not the kind
who only wants
to get inside your pants;

dear valentine,
what a soft
and wayward soul I seem
not a snowballs
hope in hell
you’ll save a dance for me;

dear valentine,
I opened mine
to find my own returned
a paper heart
pressed into card
a silence lost for words;

dear valentine,
a winter kiss
alighting on a love that’s ‘lorn
the unrequited
carving loss
into some bleeding, random poem.

© robert greig (14th February 2017)

anxiety · Christmas · culture · epiphany · January · poem · poetry · religion · society · theology · twelfth night · Uncategorized · verse · winter

Christmas is over (epiphanies)

Christmas is over
goodwill’s been drained
the gloves have come off
a parade in the rain
hollowing eyes
under cynical skies
return of the bitterness
leftover lies.

Christmas has gone
with the wrapping and gin
an over-indulgence
spewing from bins,
returning to form
and the tangle of scorn
shredding a language
where Carols were born.

Christmas is closed
and Santa’s been sacked
the last silent night
is tawdry and cracked,
of slings and of arrows
of sticks and of stones
secrets and lies
flayed to the bone.

Christmas for sale
along with the truth
who needs the facts
when it’s all about you,
tongue-speak in tongues
in hypocrite crowns
a new world disorder
poison the ground.

Christmas unwrapped
black and blue bruised
now slightly tawdry,
stained, contused,
bigotry’s back
intolerance too
nothing has changed
nothing is new.

Christmas is worn
faded to grey
a wish on a star
a stench of decay,
a carpet of needles
under the tree
littering streets
and strewn around feet.

Christmas is bust
swimming in debt
final demands
and cards overstretched,
suicide hotlines
burst at the seams
as lights are turned off
along with the dreams.

© Robert Greig
6th January 2017

( * for Twelfth Night this poem is a companion piece for “Christmas is coming” written and posted on the 24th December 2016 at,
https://meonomosity.wordpress.com/2016/12/24/christmas-is-coming/ )

anxiety · Christmas · death · depression · meditation · midwinter · new years day · new years eve · philosophy · poem · poetry · time · Uncategorized · winter

to the end of

welcome
to the end of the year,

it’s here

here again,

everywhere you look
it’s here

and there
and way over there,

not for the first time
and not for the last
a hint of the future
a taint of the past.

welcome
to the end of the year

and a strange one it’s been
and continues to be
as the seconds tick down
in an endless retreat.

one step

two step

dosy-doh…

testing one, two, three
(is this microphone on?)

taking a pause
a gap in the tock
press play or rewind
don’t stare at the clock.

welcome
to the end of the year

as soon it’s gone
will be starting again
as one days the same
as the next in the end.

© robert greig 2016

(written new years eve, 31st December 2016)

advent · anxiety · Christmas · culture · depression · midwinter · poem · poetry · society · Uncategorized · verse · weather · winter

christmas is coming

Christmas is coming
or so it seems
bulging and bursting
and cracking the seams
so many gifts
spilling from aisles
and “buy me now!” ads
and forcing of smiles.

Christmas is running
for its life
to try to keep up
with the LED lights
so blinding and
brash and tacky
they flash with a bristling
urge to comply.

Christmas is coming
gifts piled high
the this and the tat
the expectant cries
the bloating
of baskets now filled
to the sky attached to
the stressed and wild-eyed.

Christmas is coming
the slippery slide
and merely the prequel
and matter of time
til cometh the sales
returning receipts
of the crumbling crumbs
of your sanity.

Christmas is coming
expectant treats
the stuffing, the tinsel
the afternoon sleep
maybe an argument,
sherry or three,
the over-indulgence
the Queen gives a speech.

Christmas is coming
wrapping goodwill
soon to become
scrap for landfill
around a dead tree
and cracker discards
a hollow of sentiments
pre-printed cards.

Christmas is coming
Carols are sung
through a promise of snow
that didn’t quite come
a day in the life
of anonymous souls
a flickering candle
losing its glow.

Christmas is coming
it came upon
a midnight of blue
in evensong
advent is burning
the days one by one
and remembering
what you’ve become.

© robert greig 2016

( * for Advent this poem is a companion piece for “Christmas is over” written and posted at the later date on Twelfth Night, the 6th January 2016 and can be found at,
https://meonomosity.wordpress.com/2017/01/06/christmas-is-over-epiphanies/ )