Black Ink Curls

The power of the written word,

Though dark at times, clears the cogs

Clears their rust, oils their grind.

 

 Like the panic of a hooked lined fish,

It thrashes me free, free from this barbed life,

Its, piercing strife.

 

Back into the darkest deep my mind swims,

In search of pearls, black ink curls,

And sunken treasured hymns.

 

Though my words may not ring bells for all,

My own church bell sounds

Unburdening with its chiming call.

 

Raises me up off my blackened knees,

Reveals the wood

Through darkened trees.

 

In lightest moments I pour words of love that if left, remain unsaid,

These words pour from my deepest heart,

My most secret head.

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.


Continue reading “Black Ink Curls”

Sullen Return

It wasn’t a surprise when you came back today,

Black eyes that turn me milky grey.

Black as burnt coffee

Oiled ocean scar

Cat’s eye slit,

Back into my troubles pit

My worries jar.

 

The day had started not a care in the world

Hope was returning my burdens uncurled,

Like toes on a soft rug, a slight bend, a gentle tug,

This was my day of peace to be found

All burdens were lost

Free and unbound.

 

I was up and feeling good

Steadfast my being did stand,

No executioners hood to blind sight of wooded trees

Or burdens anchor

Pulling me to my blackened knees.

 

Then I felt a subtle spot while standing on my happy plain,

I could have sworn I felt a drop

Of burdens unhappy rain.

A drop is how it starts, a fine haze,

Then quickly the deluge

Becomes a burning choking blaze.

 

I twitch like a bird on feeders hanging seed

I curse and spit my frustration at calms exiting speed,

I wash my hands to clear the blood

To cleanse myself of this sticky mind mud.

Ill see you tomorrow my happy plain,

It was fun before that spot of rain.

 
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.

Thousand Yard Stare

Thousand yard stare

full of worry

full of care

lost behind

a troubled stare.

Stares a blank page

no time to engage

left behind

this unbreakable cage.

What goes on behind the eyes

only this man knows

a wonder of looks

a series of sighs.

A click of finger

 wont break the stare

of this man

full of worry

full of care.

 

 

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.

 

 

My breakdown and some other things that followed. Part One.

Part One: Hindsight.

I had a breakdown in November 2016, it started in work, brought on by acute anxiety and OCD, depression came after.

When I think back it wasn’t quite as epic as I would of liked it to have been. If I could do it all again I certainly would of taken my trousers off in the office, instead of just sitting in one of the meeting rooms crying and looking haunted. Taking of my trousers would have gained me some extra leave from work. That`s the thing with hindsight, you always get the good ideas after the event. Never mind.

Since that time I have started writing a bit. I do enjoy it and I find it does help, if anything its a distraction from worrying about completely mental things that no one else worries about. I enjoy writing poetry mainly, or at least try my best at it.

The other night my partner came home after a full day in work, bags of shopping in both hands,keys in mouth and I said “Hi hun, I have written a poem called Bleeding Hands (sounds easy going listening dosent it), ill read it you” she hadn’t even put down the bags and I was already going on about possibly the most depressing dark sounding poems imaginable. I was like Gollum, crawling out of the shadows, “hheeelllooo my precious, would you like to hear our poem, weez hopez you likesss it??”

to be continued…….