The Prison I Create (first poem I ever wrote)

There are no bars keeping me in, there is no door without a key in.

All the lights are on without a flicker or dim, my soul free to wander out or in.

And yet I stay frozen to one spot, unable to get past the lock that is not.

I sit and stare at my loves fading smile, trapped in the memory of when I could hold her for a while.

I curse myself and my internal latch, that I cannot get loose from this imaginary catch.

My hands are sore, my eyes are weak, my internal light ever-growing darker and bleak.

The man I once was becoming a ghost in time, locked behind this illusion of mine.

Gone of days when life was a dream to catch, why can I not get past this imaginary latch.

There are no bars, there is no steel, why does my mind command me to kneel?

I have no words, only hate, inside this prison I do create.

I scratch a marking on the wall, to remind me I must obey or face the fall.

And fall I do, further still, into this invisible pit I created by the freedom of my own free will.

The hangman’s noose so appealing,

But today is not my time, I remain for the true love of mine.

No illusionist trick, nor jailers whip, will see me lose my iron like grip.

So I will go on inside my imaginary jail,

And yes, there will be a time that I shall prevail.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

OCD, Anxiety, Depression, and other reasons I am not an Astronaut: Part Deux.

 

So now it is 2018 and the worst of all of the above is behind me. I am still not an Astronaut, but I feel that the more mental the world around me turns the less mental I feel.

Gone are the days when I felt a great deal of irritation around this whole “mental health awareness” thing, I felt very annoyed when I saw slogans like “its ok not to be ok” no, you mean “society and Instagram have determined through a series of hollow quotes that now it is ok for everyone else to be ok with your mental health problems”. The stigma is still there though, I remember when I used to wrap my hands with plasters in front of the full view of people I work with because I washed my hands so much they cracked and bled. In some cases, that was met with strange looks. I am not surprised, it was mental. But, I felt like saying “this is what my mental health problems are, it’s not all pictures of sunsets or someone doing push ups and being triumphant with a dreadful hollow quote underneath which are mainly always posted on Instagram on a Sunday when everyone is bored or hung over and all of a sudden feels deep” ….or something along those lines. People who don’t understand mental health I think on the whole have limits to their acceptance and accept it when it is not in their line of sight.  I may be being unfair but it stirs passion in me. Mental health is very fashionable these days, or the idea of acceptance surrounding it is. If it helps people then fine but I find some of it a bit hollow. I am probably bitter because when I was growing up mental health was a dirty secret and then all of a sudden someone printed an article in vogue or something and everyone now is very much “let’s have a chat about it” ever since. (I have just noticed how I started this paragraph Gone are the days when I felt a great deal of irritation…..in fact no, those days are not gone. It still grinds my gears. Moving on.

I am still not perfect. I have a resigned feeling that I never will be. I am still pretty selfish and impatient. I don’t tell my fiancé I love her enough, nor do I take much interest in what she has to say sometimes when I am tired or too wrapped up in myself. But, I am working on it. I am work in progress to my core, like many others, I will get there, wherever there is?

What else?

I need to get fit again, for my mind mainly. I would be lying if I said being fit wasn’t a great feeling. At the moment aesthetically, I feel like a crap version of myself 5 years ago.

Still writing the poetry in the background, second book coming out soon April / May. Looking forward to Spring to get back out in the garden. I am very rock n roll like that and it is the high adrenaline rush I get when gardening that keeps me coming back for more.

 

That’s it for now.

 

Cheers

Coming Morn

Upon the ink my needle is spun, upon a white virgin crest,
Spun from heart and tattered cuff,
And cast from naked chest.

 

From the rubble, the hellish struggle, I feel a turning tide,
All the while, comforts the smile,
My burning ember bride.

 

The tunnel is long and you would pot holes to stray,
And though the light be as needle prick,
It only seems so far away.

 

Use your meditation, by take of whatever form,
Use it to stand-fast,
Hold strong against the storm.

 

So with pen and page, and sight no longer forlorn,
I say goodnight to the dark,
Hello the coming morn.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Burn On My Friend, Burn On!

Burn your internal light,

Use its warmth, its guiding light

 

Burn that flame, flaming bright,

Burn worries soul, her lingering plight

 

Burn the flame in you whole,

Burn into your unconquerable soul

 

Burn the moon and the stars,

Burn your worries, your memories scars

 

Burn the pain and the plight,

Keep that match burning bright

 

And in the dark of coldest night

Watch your demons cower and flight,

For you have fire in your eyes

Watch your fire burn and rise.

 

Burn on my friend, burn on.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Racing Fear

The fear won today

got one over

cast me aside

with the slightest kick

and the wink of an eye.

I will try harder

to set the pace

fear only won

today’s meaningless race.            .

Ill be back tomorrow

at the blocks

hope in mind

knuckles of rocks.

Everyday a gun start

with will in my eyes

and grit in my heart

I embrace this race

I embrace each start.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

 

Somewhere In Between

Somewhere in between

half way across swollen stream

half awake from happy dream

I walk the way

in between.

Dragging feet

solemn stands

holding soul

heart in hand.

Stumbling across

uneven pavement

uneven land

sinking deeper

into sand.

I’m nearly there

some day’s worse

return the spell

a mind cursed.

The drop greater

than any low

happiness a brief

passing show.

I walk along

in between

my happy time

rarely seen.

As soon as it is there

it is gone

leaving this haunted man

to wander on.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

The Restaurant & The Anxious Man

Scratching chalk boards

amongst the chatter

clinking glasses

make ears shatter.

Nervous leg dances around

mind projects troubled frown

these eyes get lost

amongst constant drown.

No one wants a troubled friend

all ears

but none to bend.

Come along

it will be nice

disregard the chill

the winter ice.

Try not to scream or flip a table

must act calm

show I’m able

to remain in this place

remain at this table.

Try to talk

make them laugh

put on usual

jokers hat

we mustn’t fall

into misery’s trap.

I cant do it

I want to go home

retake my seat

my depression

throne.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Black Dog Returning

He is on the return

this black dog day

from distant shores

once far away.

I have had my hit

of positive feelings

now back to empty eyes

empty feelings.

Just a few more hours is all I ask

no more fetching

of depressions mask.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Feeling

Remain with me on this good day
 
don’t let me down nor go away.
 
Keep fear at bay
 
save it for another day.
 
For now let me smile on this happy day.
 
Tomorrow is then
 
today is now
 
leave me free
 
unburdened
 
by sorrows scowl.
Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Rage

Rage

it used to make me strong

but over time

made me weaker

there was irony

all along.

Hands sweaty

back arched

ready to battle

moments charged.

The shake of the rush

courses through

strength of ten men

unleashes on you.

Guns blazing

no glory

the sad tale

of a once true story.

Punching walls

knuckles bleed

with a wide arm stance

stood a man in need.

But that time has past

Its no longer me

a mournful regret

of the man

you see.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.