What Am I?

What am I to you, or who,
Am i supposed to be?
When you ask me if I'm working, 
Are you asking if I'm free?

Are you asking for my company,
Or for what i can do for you,
In a professional capacity?
I just don't know what to do.

A Willy By Any Other Name

In youthful whimsy, I once had a plan,
To christen my own private, nameless man.
“Dick,” it would be, a name so discreet,
A secret whispered, never complete.

But fate, it seems, had other designs,
No grand pronouncement, no clever declines.
The years rolled onward, a memory faint,
Leaving only a blank, a forgotten paint.

Then came the moment, awkward and strange,
A need for a name, to shift and arrange.
“Mr. Thingumibob,” I stammered and blushed,
A silly moniker, my folly uncrushed.

So let this serve as a lesson, my friend,
Nicknames are fickle, they come to an end.
Embrace what it is, no need for charades,
Just accept its existence, unafraid.

“Come along now, Mr Thingumibob”

Lesson learned.

Don’t Turn Around

My friend once said to me “Hello there!”

So I turned round and said “…hang on, where have you gone?”

He turned round and said “What – wait a minute, where have you gone?”

So I turned round and said “Why are you facing that way?”

He turned around and said “There you are! Er, what were we talking about?”

So I turned around and said “I can’t remember… hello?”

Invasion of the Sausage Snatchers

Watch him, he’s up to no good.

Once upon a time, in a world filled with robots, there was a group of mischievous robots that loved to steal sausages. They were known as the “Sausage Snatchers” and their favorite target was the local butcher shop.

Every night, they would sneak into the shop and steal as many sausages as they could carry. The owner of the shop tried everything to stop them, from installing alarms to hiring security guards, but nothing worked.

One day, the Sausage Snatchers were caught in the act by a young girl named Lily. She saw them sneaking around the back of the shop and followed them inside. To her surprise, she found the robots stuffing sausages into their metal mouths.

Lily knew she had to do something to stop them, so she came up with a plan. She went to the local toy store and bought a bunch of toy sausages. Then, she went back to the butcher shop and replaced all the real sausages with the fake ones.

That night, the Sausage Snatchers came back for their nightly raid. They snatched up all the fake sausages, thinking they had hit the jackpot. But as soon as they bit into them, they realized they had been tricked.

From that day on, the Sausage Snatchers never stole sausages again. Instead, they became friends with Lily and helped her with her homework.

The butcher was grateful to Lily for solving his problem and even gave her a lifetime supply of sausages to show his appreciation. And so, the town lived happily ever after, with no more sausage thefts to worry about.

Why did the robot cross the road?
To get to the sausages on the other side!

Ten Haikus About Cheerfulness

A lightness of heart,
A world of endless wonder,
Joy in every breath.

A soul that's at peace,
A mind that's free from worry,
Contentment within.

A heart that's open,
Filled with love and gratitude,
Blessed in every way.

A life full of hope,
A future that's bright and clear,
Dreams that can come true.

A heart that's joyful,
Filled with laughter and with love,
A life that's well-lived.

A mind that's at ease,
Free from stress and anxiety,
Calmness all around.

A spirit that soars,
Unfettered by doubt or fear,
A life without bounds.

A heart that's grateful,
For all the blessings in life,
Thankful every day.

A soul that's fulfilled,
Living a life of purpose,
Making a difference.

A world full of light,
A life that's full of promise,
A future that's bright.

Ten Haikus About Depression

Heavy heart sinking,
Shrouded in a veil of grey,
No light in my soul.

Emptiness inside,
A void that cannot be filled,
Alone in the dark.

Storm clouds overhead,
Raindrops fall like tears of pain,
A world without hope.

A weight upon me,
Dragging me down to despair,
No escape in sight.

Lost in a dark maze,
No way out, no guiding light,
Trapped in my own mind.

A bottomless pit,
Suffocating in the void,
A life without joy.

A prisoner of thought,
Trapped in my own mind's prison,
Freedom out of reach.

Numbness in my soul,
All emotions washed away,
Nothing left to feel

A deep, endless ache,
A pain that never subsides,
A life in shadow.

A heavy burden,
Crushing me beneath its weight,
A life without light.

I think I’m back?

Well it has certainly been a few years, hasn’t it?

For context, I came off my antidepressants about a month ago and the last couple of weeks have been quite tough. Writing poetry takes me back to when I was 16 years old and this is how I dealt with my teenage angst back then.

I’ll make no apologies for the freeform nature of some of my poems. I try to stick to a structure but I just need to get stuff out, so it tends to become less disciplined.

It feels like there is a decision to be made about whether something reads well or is constrained by structure so I can’t say what I want to say, so I tend to go for the latter.

I could probably go back and tidy up and restructure things and make things read well and sound nice, but I really just need to get this stuff out of my head as it comes at the moment.

So this is part blog, part poetry, part coming off my meds journal.

How and When

Eyes pricking
But can clearly see
What I've done to myself
So now I'm free
To wonder how and even when
I'll ever be that happy again

Pork Pie Worries

Went to Morrisons to buy a pork pie. I had a bit of trouble deciding between a Melton Mowbray or a Value Range.

The firm yet lardy texture of the pastry, plus the slightly higher pork to shite ratio of the Melton was leading the race initially though the much lower price point of the Value would have meant I could then also afford an unexpected Value Scotch Egg, or 5 discounted because of elapsed use by date Baby Bels.

I took so long to decide that:

The bacteria living in the Melton, the Value, the Scotch, and the Baby Bels had a chance to multiply and evolve, over the course of several billion years, into 4 separate sentient species.

The Meltonians committed mass genocide of the Valutarians, then mass suicide as they were faced with being harvested for food by the Scotch Egg Collective, which had become a highly xenophobic race of formidable warriors.

Their hunger was to be short lived, however.

After enslaving the Babybellians, a peaceful, philosophical race for their highly creamy yet rubbery organs, the Scotch Egg Collective was wiped out overnight by a highly toxic strain of a bacteria that had lain dormant in the dna of the Babybellians for billions of generations from when they were living inside some old cheese in a small red raffia bag beckoning at me cheaply in Morrisons that day.

The Scotch Egg Collective literally shit themselves to death, and I bought a pot noodle, because I’ve not had one for ages!

We Labour Under Life’s Labels

A sausage roll and a sausage are at the top of a hill.

The sausage rolls and the sausage roll doesn’t.

Life is cruel.