How Bad It Is

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How bad it is when every note you play upon the keys

sustains the void within the waiting soul;


when it is accepted that this flow will not stop

and bring an end to all these helpful faces;


when your scent assaults my senses like a bludgeon

and takes me to a day I want to bury;


when an empty chest refuses to give way

under the repeated blows of expectation


and all experiences in time coalesce into

a returning and enduring disappointment.


How bad when the abiding thought is that at this point

it could get no worse and then to be proved wrong

and wrong and wrong.


◄ Giving Up

Red Pencil ►



Sun 7th Jul 2019 12:26

Hi Jonathan,

I was just reading your comment and remembered that I woke up yesterday with this idea about social lensing. I'm only vaguely familiar but am sure (maybe?) that it's related somehow.

Thanks for the reminder and a term through which to explore further, "psycholinguistics".


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Jonathan Humble

Sun 7th Jul 2019 10:48

As a student teacher, I remember being impressed by Frank Smith's psycholinguistic explanation of reading and how we bring our own experience and meaning to words written on paper … I continue to be impressed.
Thanks for these comments Ray, Jason, David and Devon.
: )

Devon Brock

Sat 6th Jul 2019 18:37

The piano and the coffin, both sustaining, one the vibrant air, one the stilled flesh. Every note on the keys - the repeated blows of expectation - on an empty chest, on box full of strings, on the closed lid of the grave long box. Stunning craftsmanship.

I agree with Ray on this, Jonathan.


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Jason Bayliss

Sat 6th Jul 2019 18:25

"Sustains the void within the waiting soul." I love that line.

J. x

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Sat 6th Jul 2019 17:07

A sense of impotence is present here I think, and I presume to have an idea why. My interpretation would be like a gradual sinking into a quagmire of bullshit. Forgive me if I'm wrong but I do feel for those afflicted in a creative quandary.


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