Vampire (edited version)

I am the vampire in your life, causing the pain and supplying the strife.

Sucking the marrow from your core and helpless soul,

Taking your life,

And consuming it whole.

No cross nor spike, nor illumination light, will help you against,

 My worry, my pain,

My plight.

I am the vampire who takes control, contorting and reshaping your helpless soul.


Hold your bible close, say your prayers, you’re in this nightmare now,

With all my worries,

With all my cares.


The vampire you see is not me, it is a mirage of the man,

 I used to be.

And feed I will on your burning light,

Consuming and fading,

Your inner might.

But stay strong, resist my will, fight back and battle still.

The night is long,

As they say.

But have faith in me,

And bring back the man,

I used to be.

Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler

I Rise (edited version .50)

Back to the crushing black deep,

Curtain shadow and starless black

Oil well swelled swirling black

Frost bitten dead toe black

Cruellest of cruel cursing soul black, 

Crushing bastard black, 


Thrashing sea.


Pass me the blade I will end this quick,

No more sinking from this sinking ship,

Leave the noose; pay the hangman's tip,

Tie the boulders to this lead brick

I am jumping from this revolving ship,

Throw me no more lines.


Further into deaths cloak black I sink.

Further deep into the dead man’s drink,

Passed the unforgiving Jack Frost brink.

Heavy iron binds the chains that link,

That pulls me to floor.


Let me sink down further still,

To the black sacked cat sleeping drown

Seashell sounding whooshing drown

Dead patch eyed sipping sailor drown

And on milky-way grains,

Leave me to lie.


As I lay I look up through the black,

Tar beach sludge black

Oil glued winged bird black

Cancer lung black

Smoker’s death black, 

Smoking black sea.


In the dark of my pitiful demise,

I look to the heavens at broken skies,

I see a pair of marble pendulums looking down at me.

Golden rich deep brown eyes,

Stab my heart with a lightning bolt jolt.


Eyes that hold with cobra stare,

Break down the dark, supply the air,

They lift my heart from its coal black pit,

Gives me the strength, supplies the grit,

And so from the grain I begin,

To rise.


Her hair of raging black flames,

Wild burning bright illuminates blackest night,

All hell takes flight, vineyard soil of blackest sight,

Blackest black hair.

Further still,

I rise.


A smile that would make the ungodly pray,

Singing hallelujah, armies of trumpets play

Pearl gates open to welcome coming day

I want to reclaim my soul I say,

And so furthermore, 

I rise.


Passed the patch eyed sipping sailor,

Passed all the wing glued birds,

Passed Jack and his frosty brink

Passed the ships of past times sink,

And all the forgotten souls,

I rise.


And back to her arms I will always return

Back to her embrace her heavenly burn,

I will always find the strength through my sinking demise,

To swim up towards broken bluer skies to meet her loving arms,

And so always, 

I shall rise.




Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler.


Grey is where I stay,

The middle,

The indifferent,

The between,

Not always pitched jet, or polished black,

Nor always milky winter, or wonderland white,

Just grey, every day,

That’s depression,

They say,

Always grey.


So, like I say, this is where I am,

Stood on my selfish sullen spot.

Pretending to be happy,

For you oh so sensitive lot.

With your kaleidoscope eyes and rainy days,

Your oh never minds,

And come what mays,

Or my favourite,

Think of brighter days,

Not these depressing, depressing,



If I am not careful I may end up grey and alone,

With all the time in the world,

To sit and atone,

So very alone,

In my grey and lonely home.

How different would that be from the present and the now,

I am already alone in my head, face always set to scowl.

Howl, you all could in a room up on cloud nine, calling me up,

Not now, next time.

I have nothing to say,

Feeling grey.


I remain where I have always sat,

My thumb in my mouth, feeling sorry for myself,

Sorry about this,

Sorry about that,

And sorry for making you all feel,

So awfully terribly.


That being said, I am not sorry at all,

Hence I feel quite,

Almost happy,

While writing this selfish sounding,

Sombre scrawl.



Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler

OCD, Anxiety, Depression, and other reasons I am not an Astronaut: Part 5


I feel compelled to write a post focusing around the title of this post and similar posts before.

Firstly, the title itself is an attempt at irony and or humour. I am not a believer that a person should limit themselves to anything or blame their mental health problems on their place in the world. However, it can contribute to some deciding factors in a person’s life. For example, all I wanted to do from being a small lad all the way up to being a big lad, was be in the army, parachute regiment specifically, infantry. That was it for me, the start and the end game, “be the best” as they say. However, despite my high fitness levels and determination I failed the medical, why? because my medical records were reviewed and my various issues both historically and at the present time, were flagged. So, I was rejected. That just is what it is, fact. My mental health problems stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. I was fairly down about it afterwards, but now not so much, things happen for a reason, or they just happen. So hence the title, with my mental health problems if I said “I want to be Astronaut” would I really ever become one, no, of course not. I am fine with that, we all have our limits.

Society makes people believe on one hand we can be anything but on the other hand dishes out the reality with a slap of disappointment.

I am not bitter about not being able to pursue a military career because I tried my best, that is, I believe, the correct message to send out to the world, leave nothing in the tank (no pun intended) and give it your all.

At the end of the day you may not walk on the moon, but if you left it all on the track trying, then you achieved something by having the courage to try in the first place.

Thanks for reading.


Returned – (old post)

Before the sun had raised his head I was up and out of my winter bed.

Shoes laced and treading fast, my frightful time a distant past.

The sun now blazes my soul alive, with burning fire this man does strive,

For today is no longer yesterday it would seem, a new chance is born, a wondrous dream,

That awakes, and guides my soul once more.


No more am I knelt on the floor, nor rapping at that window, nor hammering at that door,

I am in, I am back inside, back to life my worries have died.

My eyes were red and sunken ships now pierce life’s horizon with their razor arrow tips.

That bastard bolted nailed door, is now unbolted,

And nailed no more.  


With each sink and soul demise, there is always a tomorrow, a chance to rise.

Although my greys collect and gather pace, this life is a marathon, not a crippling race.

Whatever it is this thing, this dark, this shadow. I have faced it now and stood the gallows,

Yet to drop and hear the crack, I keep in mind the sun is always at my front, and the dark,

Always at my back.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.