Apocalypse Now …
Had a line that lived with me,
Since first hearing it like so many others,
From films l have seen and used appropriately,
As the time suited my offbeat humours,
‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning’,
Is quite fitting, seeing as l now live on a stables,
And with the approach of spring and summer dawning,
There will be plenty of the horse truffles,
Abound in the green, green pastures of the Shires,
That will need to be gathered and thrown,
… I too will be cleaning out my own memory quagmire,
In the form of items that l have also outgrown,
Over the years since the search began for the new ‘Me’,
Which has taken me down a path or two,
On the long highway of finding my contented identity,
And offloading the befores in which my mind has been keen to accrue!
Tis not that l wish to discard memories of my past,
For this would indeed be a foolish manoeuvre,
More of a cleansing of those that have harassed,
And tormented my soul and clogged my pipes, much like manure,
By pulling down the cobwebs that have cluttered my windows,
This allows me to see clearly and deeply within,
… my life that l have lived to date and not just the echoes,
And once again recognising the beauty and sighing in appreciation …
Twas a distressing crisis that befouled me,
And made me think not once but twice,
Concerned with who l was and what was my true identity,
Having lived till that point and at what price?
And so l stripped back everything that l thought l was,
Starting afresh and looking very deeply within indeed,
Asking whether l was happy and content or were there flaws?
The answers that lay before me were not as l fancied,
And now l live a life that most would consider humble,
Turned my back on society and all that it apparently offers,
Cherishing frugality and beautiful bleak surroundings’ which are blissful?
Just dogs, and horses and pastures of the Shires’ acres,
Even now am l oft surprised when l awake with the yearning,
And always pleased that l have finally found the content me,
Which is to look forwards to the smell of manure in the morning,
Happy at long last with my truly relaxed identity.
Later this year l shall be starting to write again my autobiography “5 Shipsa Docking” of which this poem shall appear within, like so many others, and to those who follow my writing, these poems will start to make sense in many ways.
I have always pondered upon the fact that during our lives, not specifically our life as l am now of the belief that each year that passes is indeed another life. I am 55 in May so therefore l have and will have lived 55 years of my life, 55 lives l have lived. How can we lie in the womb for 9 months and be born at 0? Are we not already 9 months of age? It is something that has been a question inside my head since l was around 9 years of age.
I have cheated death on more than one occasion and l openly jest that l have already consumed more than my fair share of 9 lives spent, and have experienced more awakenings or wake ups than most. 2011 was another wake up, a new lease of yet another life. I am not a religious man in the conventional sense of the word – l believe in what l believe in and what l am most comfortable to believe in.
I follow more of a spiritual path, of understanding, of comprehension – a philosophy of my own lives that make up my own life, and indeed wake me up to a deeper meaning of what it is like to live my many lives.
2011 was an extraordinary year for me, quite possibly the biggest of my awakenings into me, it gave a greater depth to my story, my journey and more importantly allowed me to see me, the real me, the me l was born to be.
Thanks for reading.
Guy or Bloke, Your Choice