Belly Laughs

It’s funny.

A sequence of jokes.

That collection of memories I stand up in front of the audience of life,

and spill out from the centre of my soul.

 

Tales of wonder, stories which elicit awe and a sharp intake of breath.

 

But everything, every decision, every choice, every twist and turn,

leads to a comical end.

Most telling are my tales of love, loss and a heart which can never be repaired.

 

I grip the mic-stand and will the crowd to offer even one shred of empathy,

yet all I see in the half-light reflected off of the wall behind me

are vacant grins and an unspoken perception of ‘rather you than me’…….

 

My past dances in my mind like a Court Jester, reminding me I can’t ever go back

and see what outcome might have been from another choice.

All I know are the now unclimbable peaks I’ve surmounted, along with the fear inducing chasms I’ll avoid with every fibre of my being. Yet both are always there to either challenge, confuse, or destroy.

Faith in another will never be found or allowed within again.

Now I merely Work, Rest and Play, waiting for a bony tap on my shoulder.

Hoping the best memories of what was flash through my mind before the inky blackness leads me to a numbness, before nothingness……

The sound of the manager of the Comedy Club clicking all the switches, then setting the alarm….

 

Steve B 08/18

Colosseum

There sits the crowd, muted and silent

as the players dance around on the sand.

Hollering words, back and forth, to incite.. As man, woman, daughter and son

become involved. A narrative beholden of a hundred

thousand popular tales told to a million tired children lain in there beds.

 

They, us, them… We… have seen it, heard it, watched it,

been it… A million times before.

But what makes this spectacle unique, is that it has

over what has been entire festival,

bringing entertainment to all those within travelling distance….

It’s you and I.

 

Fighting stances, weapons in hand… We circle.

Wary, and frightened of that knowledge we possess of each other.

Having both been hurt in previous rounds, both been exposed for transparency…

We dodge, feint and apply experience,

 

And in doing so, the crowd begins to become involved.

Knowing our story. Thrown at them by an MC behind his mic.

Is it merely my evil versus your good?

Or is it your assertion my defeat will usher in a stronger warrior to be more of a challenge…?

 

Sword and shield are wielded, but merely questions and metaphors on the sand of virtuality.

In the end your blade rendered me unable, or perhaps more accurately,

unwilling to fight.

 

I won’t argue and say you were wrong in announcing I was beneath you,

that my skill and desire could never have earnt your respect.

 

I’ll just rub the tips of my fingers against the scars, knowing how lucky I was

to not have you simply end it for me there and then.

 

Steve B 06/18

Smells Like Teen Spirit

He never spoke in riddles, nor affected some strange accent

to hide his emotions or deflect from what actually mattered.

His truth wasn’t in being what she needed him to be

but in loving her for who she was.

How hard is it to expect the same in return?

Too hard, apparently.

 

There’s a sincerity in choosing to walk away when things aren’t what you expect,

But there’s a cowardice in choosing to walk away when things aren’t easy.

 

Therein lies the basic struggle. The balance.

Is a relationship transparent, or opaque?

Do we perpetually fight to get the answer we want? Or do we ask, listen, and accept the answer we get?

 

I loved you…. And, so many years later still do.

We go through life, loss, the up’s and downs. We develop an unwritten checklist of what we know

and believe matters to us.

This list is subconscious, applicable to every scenario we might encounter. Extrapolated from experience

to shield us from sadness, pain and above all… Fear.

From a visit to a restaurant, where there’s a palpable anticipation of a dish we really, really want….

And then find they’re out of the primary ingredient, and ask us to choose an alternative from the menu.

 

OK, that’s a relatively subdued example, and yes… I could sit here and offer up a severely aggressive example,

but I won’t, because the principle remains.

The mental process, how we immediately react, is exactly the same.

 

So, what am I really talking about, what is it that my prose wants to infer?

 

Ah, he cried! She should already understand, she reads between the lines, she’s a psychologist….

 

But she’s also as small, afraid and weak as the most broken patient she’s sat down with and applied her intellegentsia witchcraft to.

She applied it to me as well, an was afraid when I challenged it.

So, it came down to what was easy, coddled inside an argument she knew I couldn’t respond to.

She moved on, literally, despite saying she couldn’t ‘move’ herself to be closer to me.

 

A denial, as Kurt Cobain so eloquently sang.

 

A broken heart, as I was forced to hide…..

 

Steve B 11/17

 

10 Years……. 11 Days

I’m afraid

My own sense of being, is now one of alone-ness

Frightened, because I’ve been complete,

so now an inherent shadow, broken and disparate.

Reminders of what once was…

A birthday,

One of many, but oh so memorable

Because you professed your love.

Now just a memory, that moment of words

hearing and believing…

Wanting, no NEEDING it to be true…

But, like empty gifts, the ‘Deputy’ that stands in for your disappearance…..

You’re felt, but clearly not FELT……..

 

Not to touch, but become a fading memory………….

And still… Even if I count the days,

I don’t know why…

And yet, I still love you.    Does that make me weak?

Steve B 03/16

Retrospective Denial Of Love

That’s it then?

Replacement found?

 

Our time, now forgotten?

My love, my mission, your wish my command……

 

How deep is the Irony, that what was spoken?

Words uttered, perhaps of the moment?

Love, desire, meaning, sacrifice, want, hope, togetherness……….

 

Lost because the road wasn’t smooth enough,

that communication wasn’t what you needed it to be…….

Ha, ha, ha, I laugh…. And I weep.

 

You speak of values, yet showed me you are happy to betray your own,

in the moment, when it suits yourself.

Ready with an excuse, a way out, a back door…..

Not suggesting fault at my door, but implying my own self lacks that certain something.

 

Then you cite distance, oh another Irony…

‘We’ being too far apart, separated by a distance that, in reality, was nothing.

But now, you make a point about, with this new ‘love’, as I am not good enough….

That being apart pains you, and you WANT to take the time to get closer..

 

If only my love for you, and you know I did love you, would elicit such a response.

 

Now I merely welcome the abyss.

I’ve loved, and I’ve not been loved……. So, I’ll live out my days, alone.

 

Here’s a little bit of truth.

If you left this world before me, I would fight to carry your coffin, and would stand before a crowd to express my love and admiration….

But, if I died tomorrow… Would you even care?

Or would I just be someone else who fulfilled a purpose when you spread your arms and cried out in some moment of need?

Steve B 07/15

 

Love is….

Compromise….

 

We’re intelligent enough to know that no one, and nothing, is perfect.

Understanding, in an instant, perceptions can change,

whereby the illusion is shattered, and somehow things can never be as they were.

 

But why deal in illusion?

 

What does someone suppose love is?

For me, it’s a deeper sense of purpose, to have someone special

who isn’t perfect, but worth compromising over.

Fighting for, being there for, bettering oneself for…..

 

It’s a two-way street though, and however much you want to stand up and fight,

if you’re punching the air, you won’t hit anything.

 

I’ve got plenty of fight left in me, and an infinite capacity to compromise.

Steve B 11/14

 

 

Telepathy?

Words,

spoken, written, heard, read…….

It doesn’t matter,

what matters is what is meant,

what flows from understanding,

how things move forward.

We spend time formulating how,

but we don’t seem to define the meaning,

or care if they’re understood.

All that matters is how well you feel,

how you rationalise that meaning to yourself.

Semantic bullshit to warm yourself at night,

whilst the rest of us just dwell on what we’ll never understand.

Not because we don’t try, or because we aren’t willing…..

 

But because the meaning only makes sense to the person speaking, or writing.

And if it makes sense to them, does it matter if it never makes sense to anyone else?

 

Steve B 08/14

The Rain That Never Stops

Ears that never listened,

eyes that never spied.

Intermittent body response,

A mind that chose to hide.

 

The soul that couldn’t open,

heart that wouldn’t want.

Words which now unspoken,

for there exists a font.

 

Caresses lost in Autumn,

Summer touches lost.

Spring begats beginning,

Winter turned to frost.

 

To wait and perhaps wonder,

leaning back to cry.

Hope for simply something,

To try or just to cry.

 

Alone we sit together,

apart yet somehow one.

I mourn my loss of you,

has your life now begun?

 

Steve B 07/14

She’s a Superstar

Here she comes,

Seven suns.

A burning flame.

She got my love,

Got my head.

But it’s all the same.

She climbed so high…….

I don’t know why.

High, all on her own.

And I know,

She’s in the air,

And I don’t want it to go.

I can feel her love,

But I don’t want it to go

She got my woe,

Got my hand,

Took the dreams Right out of my head

She bought the world,

I paid the bills,

I took those pills,

It was wind in her sails.

She climbed so high.

I don’t know why

High, all on her own

And I know,

She’s in the air,

And I don’t want it to go.

I can feel her love,

But I don’t want it to go.

Song by Verve, 1992

The Amazement, in the ‘Moment’……. Of a Lover’s Eyes……….

Life provides an emotional shield……..

We grow up into a shallow and narcissistic world, where the beautiful have so much more than what their soul deserves.

For the rest of us ‘little people’, we scratch and claw in the dirt that has settled on the wooden beams of where we are.

Not really knowing the feminine form beyond the teat of our mother’s breast, her voice and her insistence of what her gender really has to offer……. To only offer us lonely, open-handed fools………

Let me make it clear, here and now………..

I can walk away from a partner who isn’t who I would choose to be with……

With a little more effort, I can walk away from the best lover I’ve ever been intimate, and close to emotionally…… If there was a defined conflict of personality and that sense of where ‘we’ could be……….   In time……….

But, what I…….. Personally, can’t let go of……… Even if ‘we’ can’t be in a partnership…. If ‘WE’ really can’t be lovers………….

What I find is impossible to let go of…. Is being FRIENDS……

Someone to chat to, to discuss the inane and ‘everyday’……

If you can’t love me, i understand………

I could love you in an instant, but I can just live with your time, thoughts and passions……..

You will find a ‘someone’ who can tick all the boxes…… And that, your happiness……Will make me a very happy man…….

My love was for you, but it was unrequited…….

So, I wonder if you would, or ever could, choose to chat and just offer your thoughts…………

Choose to open a dialogue, and communicate……. Oh, how I miss just chatting with you.

……………………………

Steve B 02/14