Moving on. Making the best of what I have, leaving the past and what I was behind. Rebirth and a final coming to terms with reality.
New Reality.
Suspended in a wire cage.
Part of the world, but apart from the reality of life.
There develops a new reality that is dictated by the illness and the reactions of those few remaining who stick around.


I am not alone with the pain that is life.
I must think of the pressure I put on my wife,
and loved ones who still care,
who try to keep me from total despair.
I know I try and shut them out.
Protect myself in a bubble, while I select the next trouble.
Which will come and interfere with the perpetual fear.
This is.
How many more times can I pick myself up from the floor and walk calmly through the next door.



Impending metamorphous.
The illness has wrapped me up tightly.
No matter what I try to do to escape from it.
It envelopes my every waking and sleeping moment.
Perhaps its now time to just accept things as they are and stop struggling.
There is no point in looking back.
To be free is to break out of this illness cycle and make something out of what is left of this shattered body and mind.
Itís hard when the brain does not control the body and everything feels back to front.




Itís time to decide and no longer hide.
Role the dice and wait and see.
What will become of your life?
When you succumb to ME.
Each day will never be the same.
As you battle fatigue and constant pain.
The constant fight against systems.
As you fight for your rights.
Will take every ounce of your strength
And all your might.
So.
Donít sit there and stare.
Even though itís unfair.
Donít you dare opt out.
Stand proud and shout.
If not.
Life will pass you by.
So get out of your bed and try!


Snakes and Ladders.
Breaking free.
This illness has permanently damaged me.
Changed who I am.
Stopped me believing in I can.
One day I am up, the next I am down.
Itís not surprising I wear a frown.
I behave at times like circus clown.
Forgetting my words and dropping things.
Dreading the emotions the pain will bring.
So what is there left for this shell to do.
Except role the dice.
Will I rise or fall?
All I can do is wait and see.
Rely on the strength of the inner me.



Rebirth.
Born again.
I must reinvent myself,
become reborn,
learn how to live within the confines of the illness.
To place the past in context and look forward to the future.
To reject all the fear of cant,
and embrace the belief that I can.
To believe in myself and the positive future that awaits me.




Dear Lord.
I have had some tests in my time.
This challenge you have set.
Well it makes me retreat.
Seldom in my life have I tasted defeat.
There are only so many times anyone can pick themselves up.
I am sick of telling this is just bad luck.
Iíd like to know what Iíve done to offend.
Why I am receiving this bad Karma, you have chosen to send.
Unless this is your way of telling me to stop.
Before I halt and forever flop.
If this is the case please give me a sign, that in the
near future things will be fine.
Because there are four people I love very much and
I am sick of using them as human crutch.
I now have to put my pen down, because my face is
starting to twist and frown.
The hardest thing is to accept what I have become,
something Ďbadí that old friends shun.





Itís time to decide and no longer hideThe pressure of time is still around.
But itís not surprising from my manic background.
I am beginning to see a way through this mess.
Which will cause all around, the minimum of distress.
I know I must reach deep inside and use the skills that
I know I hide.
I must forget all the times I have sat and cried and learn
to trust the quiet voice inside.






I woke up today in extraordinary pain.
I thought at times I was going insane.
The banging of my neighbours door, vibrates through my floor.
The constant noise eats away like a cancer, preventing me from
sleep and makes me weep.
Iíve reached the stage, perhaps itís my age.
All I want is peace and quiet to rest my soul and heart.
I am still trying my best but without rest I am getting pains in
my legs, back and chest.
I am getting down because I wear a frown,
But itís not me whoís the clown - with gangster rap and
indigenous crap, bellowing out louder than 20 shouts.
What gives them the right to subject us all night to this
stupid tirade, not caused by lemonade?
Crashing and banging doors, slamming yelling, screaming Ė
no I am certainly not dreaming.
I cannot believe or even conceive why any adult should behave
like this lout.
I suppose however I should see this mess, as a success for political
correctness. For this constant noise that invades comes not from a
male, but an ignorant female.




The Glass Ceiling.
Itís always there.
Should I give a dam, or even care.
The self fulfilling prophecy.
Itís always been important to me.
Iíve always tried to protect the week
To enable them to reach their potential.
But whatís becoming increasingly evidential.
Is I might be falling victim, to self limiting my own potential.
As long as I listen to myself, instead of pointing the finger of blame,
to health professionals who think I am insane.
To listen to myself and say, well done,
For all the things I have done.
Whether a success, or a mess,
they move me away from a state of distress.



I am still alive.
So my philosophy to live and not just survive.
Is proof in itself.
I am no longer left on the shelf.
Yes its hard.
But I will continue to believe in myself
Proving to all around
That I am breaking new ground.
Even though I still have the pain
as the symptoms still remain.
The illness still is within me and reminds me whenever it likes.
That my life has changed forever is true.
The only thing thats constant is I still remain true,
To ME and you.