Writing As A Form Of Therapy

This poem is partly a major homage to my brotherman @GonePirate. We've travelled some tough times and some grand adventures together here on this Internets-thingie over the past 4 or so years. A bunch of us have, actually. Heck, most if not all of us here have, so it's also partly a homage to everyone of us silly humans who suffer and rejoice through this glorious mad life...

The poem is very specific about the imagery - salt and dirt.

Dirt. Under the fingernails, it's hard work. Dirt. Fertile soils for things to grow. It's opportunity. Dirt. It's ready for what seeds we sow. Dirt. It's the very land upon which we stand...

Salt. Teary eyes, leaking salty water. Salt. The crystal manifestation of our grief. Salt. Sweaty skin, leaking salty water. Salt. The sharp salty tang of our physical labours. Salt. It's the very ocean in which we swim...

I was born in a seaport town in Denmark (Kalundborg). I lived in a village called Ågerup, on the Røsnæs peninsula. I grew up by the sea, on farming land. Dirt and Sea. They were me...

Of Salt and Dirt

Dirt under the fingernails
Of a man who never fails
To describe the nature of his hurt.

Words stream forth and mix with tears
A briny brew of rage and fears
Raining down upon the dirt.

Inspired by my often very graphic, sometimes very disturbing, dreams, this poem is an attempt to describe the adversarial and very painful process I followed for many years in my life. I hated myself. I was my own worst enemy. I self sabotaged.

At the same time, I was brutally savage in the honesty of my self questioning. I was very cruel to myself for very many years. All because I hated myself and wanted to be a better person.

I put myself through inner turmoil again and again...

It shows me that I am both cage and key. The answer lies within...

The Grand Inquisition

I stand confined in the cell of my mind’s making, lucidly dreaming,
Trying to restore myself to myself and silence the inner screaming
Of these thoughts that wildly and destructively race and rage,
Restlessly pacing and rattling the bars of my inner cage.

The gaoler comes for me now, roughly shoving key in hole,
But I know with a sinking feeling I’m not up for parole;
Rough hands push me into the dungeon deeper,
I look at the gaoler’s face and see I’m my own keeper.

I’m my own worst enemy when I get like this
All of my achievements are just a bucket of piss;
I’m my own lord high executioner and master torturer
Stretched out in this dark dungeon, a worthless sufferer.

Surrounded by imaginative instruments of torture and pain,
On blackest velvet all so neatly and efficiently lain,
With a cruel tweak, my inner Torquemada starts the show,
Let the Grand Inquisition begin, all nice and slow.

@Silenus

I LOVE your poem.

Let me read it again.......

thanks for the kind words glad you got something from it @BlueBay

it means alot to me to be able share some of my lighter poems as well as some of the heavy ones

and thanks to @Silenus both for your response and your poem

also silenus i get where your coming from playing judge jury and executioner with yourself within the prison of the mind rattle that cage break free you deserve a day pass atleast be kind to yourself b

i feel like ive already given all i could give

and now i simply dont know how to live

ill try put it eloquently an educated wordsmith

i crave the gold that the world once shone with

because lately i find im at mercy of the tides of fate

the waves crash upon my ship with such hate

one after the other they continuously berate

I've relinquished the helm to my trusted first mate

as we desperately try to master the tides

that violently shakes us and throws our vessel side to side

in the captains cabin is where i now hide

pleading and screaming for the storm to subside

before we are all dragged down to the depths

i beg and i barter to my last breath

that this one perfect storm wont be our death

and after the storm may there be something left

the tidal storms passes back to ebb and flow

and our fates are yet to be sealed by the blue seas below

we have faced the beast our most perilous foe

and in survival our strength must grow