Poetryzine magazine presents the selected poems by the Welsh poet Rhys Campbell
Calling time
She’s not afraid of the dark,
only the darkness that descends when the sun sets,
it brings back the memories
of the lonely nights
that followed painful days
when everything felt like the end of the world.
She has lived through enough personal apocalypses
to know that death doesn’t come so easily,
it strikes mercilessly
evading those who beg for it to come.
The innocence of youth
was taken from her
when trauma sculpted her place in the world.
Her sugar-coated view
was soured by the bitter breath of her drunk father;
the kisses he’d plant
once in a blue moon were as stale as his odour
that always choked her
as she held back the tears
that her mum would never see anyway
her blind eye conveniently fell on the abuse
that would eventually become history
but it was always the same story,
just with different faces.
No one gets to walk through life unscarred
but some people have enough crosses to bear,
it would break the backs of most,
yet, they still hold their heads high,
they hide the emptiness,
and learn to live under cloak and dagger
to avoid those pitying stares.
In reality, you’ll never know who is close to breaking
you’ll never know when things are cutting too close to the bone.
For her, there was never any hiding from the lacerations
that seemed to seek out marrow;
even in a crowded room
her mind was a clamouring riot,
synapses firing in all directions
but none of it seemed to be friendly fire.
The warfare exhausted her,
her cheek never seemed far from the pillow
as the weeks passed and she withered.
The happy pills still left her scratching for serotonin
as she went about her days
that never left her fulfilled,
she’d dread the red letters being pushed through the door
she’d dread her kids reaching for sweets in the supermarket.
Her kids had to learn a thing or two about sacrifice
yet their bonds grew stronger
as the wounds on her wrist got deeper
until they told her
that she had to think bigger
than just scratching at the surface of her skin with metal
to feel something within her control.
One day, the light switched on behind her eyes
as she realised, depression isn’t a nemesis
it is a companion,
a memento of past pain
reminding you of how strong you are
to put one foot in front of the other
when you never wanted to pick yourself up off the floor.
Her scars became reminders
that she deserved pleasure
more than pain,
looking at her past showed her
that it didn’t have to repeat.
She could resent her past
but that would mean resenting the strength that she has become
she could carry the pity,
knowing that if she didn’t help herself, no one would,
but in the end,
it doesn’t matter what you’ve been through,
you’re walking into your future,
not backwards into your past;
there is a reason why tomorrow isn’t called yesterday.
You don’t need your abuser’s compassion and permission
to be happy, you’ll never get it from them,
you need to give it to yourself.
Time will only heal,
if you let it.
Breathe
This poem is dedicated to me.
It is my path to a brighter perspective.
Meander down it with me,
feel each step release you from what you were
as you start to see another way to be.
Welcome to the new earth.
Everyone eats for free,
No one asks you for conformity
only authenticity without uniform.
This road will teach you
that trying to be normal is trying to fit into a mould of perfection
no one has ever been able to achieve.
Fallen icons are just as infallible as the rest of us.
Just look at Bowie and his drug dependency
how is he any different from the residents of LA’s tent city?
He was a star, shining in the spotlight;
in the dark, he wrestled with psychosis.
What hope does the rest of us have in this world of obscurity and
expectation?
Our values are invalid
societal demands are unwarranted.
Stop denying your true nature
set fire to the facades
find no apology in your expression.
Find the humour in seriousness
laugh through the smoke
as constructs crumble around you
and those who don’t share your vision scream
through fear of losing the system
after they’ve invested in it for so long.
It takes courage
to stay true to the world;
this complex phenomenon
loosely defined by time and space.
Grace will get you there,
canter at your own pace.
You can’t change the nature of humanity single-handedly;
you’ll need to accept the monkey-see-monkey-do mentality,
in this fish eat fish town.
Savages walk amongst us;
you don’t need to fall in line with them
or allow them to consume your time.
Look for the positivity amidst the chaos in society that influences us to
be worthless.
The truth is that we are worthy.
We’re all learning lessons,
moving as meditative regressions,
we're the result of endless timelines ventures.
Find your centre. Find your place. Find your worth.
Don’t look to pre-existing values
and the insecurities that bleed through the cracks of our society
look to your soul to tell you what you need.
Most of the time, you’ll find that you simply need to breathe.
Through the Threads of Reality
I am grateful for the day, mostly.
But sometimes,
A discontented haze glazes appreciation for life,
For the clockwork hum of functioning anatomy,
or the birds singing chorally
and allowing us to enjoy their melodies.
Some days, it's easy to forget.
It's easy to drown out the sound,
let something else consume us instead,
leave blinkers on red
before apathetically resigning to our pillow
and whispering to it our melancholy.
Some carry their past as a dead weight,
making it harder for them to cross the finish line
for the races, we start and finish every day.
I harness mine as protection,
a key to the future
where all that matters is the present.
Every day is a journey,
so I pack my bags ready for what happens next.
I make my travel guide
by formulating the ways
I can purge my mind
of the burdens which relentlessly scratch away at the base of my skull.
I still hear the echoes of idyllic idioms which are never grounded in
reality.
"Time will tell…"
"Time is the greatest healer…"
Imagine, if we were taught what freedom tastes like.
Imagine, the sticky-sweet nectar of mental liberation
being dripped onto your tongue,
allowing you to savour how it feels to be free
from insecurity,
anxiety,
and panic attacks which rip the ground from beneath our feet,
draw sensation from our lips,
makes our rhythmic pulses feel like lacerating stings.
My afflictions aren't my enemies.
I wear them with no hostility, knowing I can take them off
with wishful thinking,
and relinquishing the sinking feelings
which pull me down when I entertain the idea
I need to be punished for being human.
There were days when I was afraid of the sun
and the rays which illuminate everything I didn't want to see,
there were days when the only safe place was the space in my dreams
where I could run free and explore new realities under my orchestration.
Now, I embrace any effervescence the sky throws my way,
I pull it towards me and live fully
with my open eyes and open mind opening up new possibilities,
every day is a new premiere
and everyone has an invitation to the theatre.
The ticket is my smile,
the price is peace.
I seek to spread addiction to being inspired,
instead of what will make you numb and wired.
My work started with me,
but it will end by showing the world we're all one.
If you take my view,
you'll see what I see
and it's so beautiful to see the delicacy of our temporary existence,
and our impermanent nature laced with humility and compassion.
My work is for unity, one destiny. All in harmony.
Peace has been there all along
hiding in the shadow of materialism and conformity.
Social constructions attempted to mould us,
but let's shatter them to dust
with the pride in our uniqueness,
and understanding of the purity in individual presence.
Let your dreams carry you,
be whatever awakens you.
*Rhys Campbell is a Welsh poet. He typically conveys his poetry within the verbalised art form that is spoken word. You can find his work under the name RIS, usually complemented with ambient instrumentals to further ensure the impact of the narratives illustrated. He is also in the process of completing his first poetry book, so keep your eyes peeled.
Instagram: @rhysc.ampbell
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