Head down.

I feel old .
I used to bounce back from the blues better than this.
This year I struggled.
Tired of my dreams being taken from me I have cried.
I do NOT cry.
I am working harder than ever and getting nowhere.
I feel undervalued and under pressure.
I would walk away from it all but Tigger is alive
and I promised that I would outlive him..
I miss her.But that is not unusual.
I have missed her a lot in the years I have known her.
I do not know who I am anymore.
Head down. Arse up.Carry on.
Smile at the world.
Show no pain.
Save the tears for the privacy of your bed.
Fuck them all and sound the retreat.
The Andrew Fox I knew has gone.
Head down.Arse up. Carry on.

Andy Fox 201014

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Tears my only reward.

No spoken words can erase the pain.
I fell in love and failed again.
I fell in love but returned it was not
Time both my solace and healer.

You stayed away when I needed you most.
Who gained from that?
You or a ghost of a failed romance?.
I grasped the nettle and I took my chance.
All I have to show for that is a rash.

Rash I was tis truly said.
I am far too old for games of the head.
I do not hold you in contempt.
The same is not true of you.

I tried to build bridges where they were burnt.
Tears my only reward.
I leave the ball in your court now.
I will be more than surprised if you call,

Andy Fox 191014

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Mine to fight.

This is my fight.
Because this is my mind this has to be my fight.
The darkness comes in waves but this is how it has to be.
Just me.

These are my emotions tussling for supremacy.
This is my mind at war with itself.
My body is putting weight on and hiding.
It is leaving my mind to fight itself alone.

I am pissed off at myself.
I am angry at myself.
I wish things were different.
Wishing changes nothing.

That is truly the rub.
Wishing changes nothing.
I am caught up in a war.
My war.

Some days are better than others.
This is one of the better ones.
Please leave me alone to deal with my blues.
They are mine to fight.
They are mine alone.

Andy Fox 070914

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Internment.

Finally I left and traveled south.
A year spent in internment had been enough for me.
My business lay ruined and my family had fled already.
I stayed.

I stayed because this land had been my home.
I stayed because my roots were here.
They came and they told me I did not belong.
They ordered me to leave.
I refused.

They put me in a camp on the border.
My home lay two hundred miles north.
They denied me my livelihood.
They took it for themselves.

They did not break me.
I would not allow them to do that.
Their inhumanity astounded me.
I did not show it.

I received word that my wife and sons were settled.
Electronic communication was not allowed and letters were censored
but my wife and children know the old ways.
They told me it was safe where they were and they begged me to join them.

Certain now that they were safe I left the internment camp.
My face must have been grim for no one dare to stop me.
I walked that last mile south to the border.
I knew there would be guards on the northern side at least.

At the border one soldier tried to stop me.
I said but one word and he broke into a grin.
“I will come with you.” said the young man.
“This land is not fit for you nor I.”

We strolled the few hundred metres to freedom and all that it meant.
The young soldier shook my hand and we parted.
My wife stood waiting to greet me as I passed into civilization.
We hugged and kissed and finally I cried.

She took me to our new home safe in the hills.
My children greeted me and I held them close.
“I had to wait until you were safe.” I explained gently.
“I would not have you at the mercy of those men.”

We watched the news that night all in the safety of England.
In Scotland there were more food riots.
The Edinburgh parliament was surrounded by crowds of angry people.
“Salmond betrayed them.” my wife said softly.
“He promised and he promised but all his words were lies.”

Safe in my new home I thought of my old one.
We had lived there for nigh on thirty years.
I thought of myself as a local.
I was wrong of course.
I was still the enemy to be hounded out of my home.
My only crime was to be an Englishman in iScotland.

Andy Fox 240814
note.
iScotland is what the Scottish nationalists call what may be,and i damn well hope will not happen,independent Scotland.

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The critic.

You are looking old my dear.
Time has been no kinder than I have been of late.
[and I have been a cruel man indeed.]
Time has given you lines that I did not notice.
Your hair is thin and the cut does not suit you.
This the critique from the critic.
Curse me all you wish.

I am looking old my dear.
I have lines where my face was smooth.
I would like to call them laughter lines.
I know myself too well for that deception.
My hair,like yours,is thin.
Mine is now white.
A colour beyond silver.
I wish it was as thick as my waist.

I still work the long hours I always used to.
I still hide behind my job.
I still dream of love but do nothing to find it.
My dreams can stay dreams.
The fantasy proved far easier than the reality.
The reality was not allowed to be.

You were my harshest critic for reasons unknown to me then.
Now I know.Now I truly do know.
Is it not easier to criticize others to hide your own faults?
Is it not easier to hide behind a shield made of arrogance
than to face yourself in the mirror?
I have news for you my dear.I am your mirror.
It is hard to face yourself is it not?

Andy Fox 010814

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I courted a sailor.

At midnight I shall sing I courted a sailor
I shall make the sailor a girl.
At three am I shall be wakened by a questing paw.
My cat will need to know I am home .
I shall fall back asleep at four.
At six am I will be wide awake.
A knackered body clock the only cause.
I shall rise at seven and feed both cat and inner man.
By eight I will have made the days plans.
At the end of the day some self imposed tasks will be done.
Others will be left for another day.
I aim to survive the weekend and it is a trial.
At midnight I shall go upstairs to bed
I shall sing I courted a sailor once more.
.

Andy Fox 260414

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The growing of the night.

This is your rage against the growing of the night moment.
Your scream of incandescent fury moment.
The loss of your hopes and fears combined with outrage of it happening moment.
This truly is your impotent anger moment.
You have lost the fire to your ice and you do not know what to do.
You scream of harassment and bullying.
You do nothing to acknowledge the pain you cause and have caused.
You portray yourself as the victim as being a victim is the safe option.
You set yourself up as an Idol to be worshiped.
But you fell for an atheist who does not believe in god and gods.
You are beginning to realize they do not believe in you.
They like you and sometimes they dare to love you
but they have stopped believing in you and your motives.
That has come as a shock to you.
The question now is a simple one.
What do you do now?

Andy Fox 220314

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Is this love?

I heard myself begging for your company.
I am worth more than that.
Even if it is only to myself I am worth more than that.

You are under my skin.
I scratch at my arms until the blood flows freely.
Still you remain.

I miss you when you are not around.
I am uncomfortable in your company.
You draw limits but refuse to tell me what they are.

Is this love?
Tell me: Is this love?
Is love meant to hurt?

We spend time together and I start to relax.
Unguarded I talk to you.
I do not see you for weeks.Did I do something wrong?

Are you ashamed of me?
Of my weakness?
Or are you afraid of my strength?

I fell in love with you.
You do not feel the same.
I try to build a friendship on the sands of uncertainty.

I ask again.Is love meant to hurt like this?
If it is not?
I am doing it wrong.

Andy Fox 200214

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The Door.

In my head there is a door.
Usually it is locked.
Sometimes it unlocks itself and lets me peek
into the room it is the guardian of.
Sometimes the door creaks and groans as if struggling
to contain what lies behind it.
The door guards my memories.
It allows me to see only some of them.
It does not allow me to see all of them.
What would happen if the locked in memories came flooding out?
Who would I become?
Who would I be?

Andy Fox 260913

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How times change.

I remember when my wagon was my safe place.
When my choice was to stay away from home.
I remember when ‘home ‘meant threats of violence
and real violence at my fathers hand.
When Domestic Abuse was both physical and mental.
I remember all that.
I preferred the safety of my wagon.

Now my home is my safe place.
My sanctuary.
I shut the door on the world outside.
I let in what I choose to let in.
The only violence here is Mr Cat biting my hand.
I stay out when I have to.
When I need to.
I would rather be home .
This is my safe place.

Andy Fox 190913

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