The Prison I Create – (old post)

 

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.

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.

So,

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

With all my worries,

With all my cares.

Alas,

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

Words From An Unlikely Poet

 

LAST CALL

My book is free on amazon Kindle this weekend. It has had some really positive reviews. I have included some links below.

Amazon USA –  https://www.amazon.com/Words-Unlikely-Poet-Charlie-Hasler-ebook/dp/B077711DXV/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/Words-Unlikely-Poet-Charlie-Hasler-ebook/dp/B077711DXV/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Amazon India –  https://www.amazon.in/Words-Unlikely-Poet-Charlie-Hasler-ebook/dp/B077711DXV/ref=sr_1_1_twi_kin_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1535790564&sr=8-1&keywords=charlie+hasler

Unlikely Poet 1

 

Words From An Unlikely Poet: Volume 2: Further Thoughts

My second book of poems is available at Amazon on Kindle and paperback. Give it a go! ps the ugly mug on the front cover is me.

Following on from the first book, Further Thoughts is one man’s view of the world around him. It is a candid expression of the trials that come with battling mental health demons, the exhaustion that comes with the search and pursuit of happiness and the inner peace that is achieved once finding it.

Selection of Amazon links below:

UK –  https://amzn.to/2w8BSRV

USA –  https://amzn.to/2nFod0U

India –  https://amzn.to/2vGD7Iq

Australia –  https://amzn.to/2MehUQy

Canada –  https://amzn.to/2w97vKX

 

Further Thoughts - Front Cover.jpg

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

th

In no particular order:

I remember at a young age my need for routine was ingrained, part of my fibre and core. My Mum tells me she recalls an incident at pre school where my classroom had been moved to a different part of the school and I completely flipped. In a way I am still the same now.

Today for example, my fiancé moved a shoe rack and put it under the stairs instead of downstairs in its home, where it lived and by being downstairs kept the universe in perfect sync. Ok, I didn’t flip out, but I was very concerned for a good half an hour. ‘What if I can’t access my shoes as easy as I could before?’ and other questions of a similar nature circulated my mind until the next thing to be concerned about came into play.

I think that’s how mental health issues can be, in my case I am fuelled by anxiety, which stokes the flames of my OCD which once burnt out makes me depressed, and I am left as just some pile of smoking ash, just about warm but nearly dead (cheery).

I need to get back into my training properly, I enjoyed boxing, I enjoyed running, and I enjoyed the gym. But that is what mental health problems do, take away what you love. I feel in some senses I am still a bit broken, a bit beaten. Since my breakdown in 2017 I feel like a veil has been lifted and I see through different eyes but at the same time the ball and chain weighs just as heavy. I am just very tired all the time.  I need to admit the problem is still there and not see it as failure.

 

(image sourced from Google)

 

Dead As A Nail – (old post)

I feel I am dead, as dead as a nail,

All hammered and coffin

All bent and rust.

Buried back down deep beneath the cold

And frozen black dust.

 

And yet I still breathe, a tired man’s breath,

Albeit a sigh, a solemn draw,

While I hammer at the window

While I wrap at the door,

My mind has locked me out.

 

Or maybe I am locked in, I am not sure,

Either way I am standing here once more,

Standing on the wrong side of this bastard bolted door.

I am searching for the right key

But the bunch is far too big.

 

So as it is, back to the shadow I have returned,

Where no warm does glow, no hope does burn.

Back to the bottom of hells staircase,

Locked behind the door and staring at my once stood place,

All dead and nail inside.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Dead As A Nail

I feel I am dead, as dead as a nail,

All hammered and coffin

All bent and rust.

Buried back down deep beneath the cold

And frozen black dust.

 

And yet I still breathe, a tired man’s breath,

Albeit a sigh, a solemn draw,

While I hammer at the window

While I wrap at the door,

My mind has locked me out.

 

Or maybe I am locked in, I am not sure,

Either way I am standing here once more,

Standing on the wrong side of this bastard bolted door.

I am searching for the right key

But the bunch is far too big.

 

So as it is, back to the shadow I have returned,

Where no warm does glow, no hope does burn.

Back to the bottom of hells staircase,

Locked behind the door and staring at my once stood place,

All dead and nail inside.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

The Prison I Create – (old post)

 

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.

Mind Radio (edited version)

Turn down the volume,

It makes me want to scream out loud, while standing among-st this silent crowd.

 

No volume button at my discretion,

To sooth my thoughts or allow for a calmer expression.

 

My tortured look sliced across my face,

Like a man who once had a happier mind space.

 

Is this just me or can you hear it too? that painful laugh,

That devils shrill, that teases me like a twilight winter daffodil.

 

Let me hear your music for a while, so I may lie quiet and bare a smile,

Quiet and peace is all I long for, not this pounding in my brain nor that hammering on my minds door.

 

How I wish I could tune in like you, and whistle to the silence of my own free will.

I scramble for that invisible switch, to silence the cackle of this cackling mind Witch.

 

But you wouldn’t know, you have silence, try listening to these hell like sirens.

All clutter now, all clutter, help me stop the banging of this relentless mind shutter.

 

I look at your face but hear no words, I can’t hear you, I wish I could, then perhaps

We could talk and solve this riddle, of why my mind only plays this devils fiddle.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.