Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm
Softly creeping comes the light
seeping through your prison’s glass
Masking out the stations of the cross
along your rotting creaky floor
Memories leaking from the dripping faucet
that’s really your beleaguered mind
Swirling slowly away you, cry
washing them down the drain
Hey you, you up there,
can you feel her stare?
Hey you, you listening up there,
can you take her despair?
Hey you, you watching up there,
can you show you care?
Once there shone glimmers of hope
now there’s only the hanging hemp
Taking your place in the stations
last light the signal of descent
The shrieking beams might as well
be your muted screams
Alone in your corner you swing
twisting over all the years left unspent
Hey you, you up there,
couldn’t you feel her stare?
Hey you, you listening up there,
couldn’t you take her despair?
Hey you, you watching up there,
couldn’t you show you care?
G.R. Hambley ©
February 01, 2018
All round the world, love is deceiving
Mountains of love have been moved
Ashes and residues, marking such proved
Disciples crow that they are the deserving
Look hard, look twice at what you know
You think your wiles make everyone smile
Please see there are some whom you revile
Living to love when craving life’s marrow
Each and every way, not trying to understand
A null place, your heart‘s on your worn face
Stings under veils, still showing every trace
Angels in tattered wings working their plan
Night’s glitter faded to day wear tarnish
The door closes behind the window to your hole
Longingly watching, the abyss sinks your soul
You hang to hope knowing you’re about to perish
G.R. Hambley ©
December 22, 2017
On 2 June, 2017 I made the visit to the new to me Pain Clinic I spoke of in my eHealth Ontario piece.
I went in with the information sheets filled out. Didn’t pull any punches on the forms. One of the questions was, “What would you like your doctor to do with the pain”. My written response, “Give it to the individual that hit me”. If you know me, you damn well know I did so write it down and you’re laughing because doing that is so me!
Yes, I brought out some theatre. Yes I brought out some of my intelligent donkey and yes I made it known I wasn’t pleased to be having to do the same things again because there is next to nothing in the way of records attached to me.
Put more simply, you gotta rise to the occasion!
I went in there prepared to make a stand and with an open mind. Both objectives were accomplished.
No nonsense, no pretense, no side stepping. Oddly as I was being examined, I was never questioned about my answer to the “what do you want done with your pain” question.
You’d think the Docs would of wanted to discuss my B.A. (bad attitude) but nary a word.
The initial questioning was done by a resident. Poor dear girl, exposing one so young to a mind like this.
Going through the info sheets and the Resident asking me if there was anything else that made the pain feel better, and I said, “Not without a partner”. A blank look on a doctor’s face after you’ve answered their question, priceless! I don’t know how anyone else feels but, I don’t think you should have to explain the benefits of sex to a doctor, even one in training.
It is incumbent on you to tell your health care professionals the truth. It is in your best interest to be emotionally present when discussing your condition(s). They have to know your mindset as well as your physical status. Complete communication is not an invitation to go off on a rant. A rant is singular expression and not communication in a good way.
The simple explanation is that there is a long history of dealing with chronic pain attached to me and I still have chapters to go. I had a lot to say and I did a lot of talking during this examination.
No, no seeing doctors as Gods by me. Doctors are just body mechanics. I’ll grant you they oversee the most complex machines on the planet but they’re still mechanics.
I made certain both doctors, the anesthesiology resident and the specialist were clear on what I wouldn’t do. A stand had to be made. I am simply not going to keep doing what doesn’t work and relating it to new faces any longer.
I’ve been dealing with chronic pain far longer than those that need it will receive palliative care. My demand is simple, give me the same considerations in my medical dealings with chronic pain that would be given to an individual in Palliative care.
Palliative care is a multidisciplinary approach to specialized medical care for people with life-limiting illnesses. It focuses on providing people with relief from the symptoms, pain, physical stress, and mental stress of the terminal diagnosis.
I’ve been living with chronic pain almost 1/2 my life. Oddly mine too is Osteoarthritis. What the court did is good because the Feds didn’t get it correct with Bill C-14, Medical Assisted Dying and that piece of legislation still needs work.
Let’s not be reading things in to the statements I’m making that aren’t there. I’ve a 150 year life plan that is my harmless little fantasy so leave me the hell alone.
Part of your decision must come from dealing with the reality of your own impending death. You are setting a termination date for yourself and that reality may help you examine your pain more closely. I would hope the death reality would make you examine more closely.
I’m tired of building the history when I have to see someone new. Hell. I’m tired of seeing the new. I’m tired of the slight variations in a molecular chain that just might make a positive difference for me. But we’ll have to try different dosages to see which will work, if any of course.
I enjoy my mind quite a bit. With all that goes on up there in my head space, I love my mind. Of course I talk to myself a lot. But then I show other people the conversations I’ve had with myself. This is called writing and it is how writing gets done. Talking to yourself and not writing it down is called something entirely different.
We are talking antidepressants here. Depression was part of the consultation conversation. By definition I am depressed. Going by the definition given to me by one pain clinic doctor, I’ve been depressed 30 days less than I’ve had pain. I wasn’t real pleased when the event took place so let’s call it 20 days.
I’m tired of having my brain chemistry tinkered with so I’m not going to take on the new old with a slightly different chain. I’m not taking it on despite telling the Doctor in charge that I would. Yup, I flat out lied to the Doctor. The Doc got to feel good that he’d done something good for me and I got him to stop pulling out stops.
I’m a creative. My mind is never off. I’ve been through this idea of treatment before and I can show you in my journal where my handwriting changes back to what it was when I stopped taking those mind altering drugs previously.
I’m still trying to figure out how me sleeping 25% longer, keeping me horizontal 25% longer is going to make me feel better. Especially so when the problem is I have to get up and move around to feel better. Doc didn’t have an answer for that.
The Doc did make the point of all drugs affecting the mind and that is true BUT, not all drugs directly affect cognizance and antidepressants do.
The consultation wrapped up and the primary clinic doc looks at me and says, “Degenerative” and I looked right back at him and said, “Yup”.
My demeanor and disposition are much improved with the decisions I’ve made. I’m not shutting off and tuning out. You present me a possible treatment option that is new and I’ll listen.
I know this stuff and if I need more help I’ll ask. I’ll keep regular with my primary pain doctor so he’s up to speed on what’s slowing me down.
I shall go forward in life happier because I’ve eliminated a major stressor!
G.R. Hambley ©
June 22, 2017
Curios
Mine is mine and to each their own
so whom are we to pass judgement
One’s choices predicated upon
by how you my dear individual perceive
Reapers, the purveyors of goods grim
honouring both dollar and ritual
But just because you can
does it mean you should indulge the macabre
Incendiary with a highly volatile fuse
fostering unspoken mortification
Done from love by loss
as inherently personal as love’s little death
Memories tactile, both taking away
and in embracing the pain
Open wide to holding up a mirror
reflection upon your hurting self
Morbid, magnificent, maudlin, majestic
what else could be said of selections such
Each and every with their unique curio
memory memorabilia a curious thing
Nature ‘tis of we mournful beasts
displaying in so many ways
Turning cheek, both other and off if you please
my crass, your cats ass
One tap, two tap, three, forever remains in me
G.R. Hambley ©
June 01, 2017
I made an error in formatting on the original post. The error is now corrected. The poetry has not changed.
At 1:58 am on 15 May, 2017 an American Marine passed on. To some that man was and will always be, more than a Marine.
Being a United States Marine didn’t define what the man was. Being a Marine was a part of what made up the whole man.
The man had a tough go before the irony that is the illness that eventually took his life got him. Irony in abundance. He fought the good fight with dignity and grace. Never gave up. I’m sure he thought of it as we all would in that situation. He carried on out of a love of life and family. The duty he believed was owed to himself and his family.
No one would have faulted him had he chose to move along to the next plain of his own volition. He endured that much. He cared that much to soldier on.
This man was given the last rites in Vietnam. He was subjected to derision at the very least for having gone to Vietnam when he returned home. He came home with issues and worked on those issues.
Much later on in life, he was stricken with cancer and the belief is that “Agent Orange” was the culprit. There’s your irony. It took his own country to do what the enemy couldn’t.
A number of years ago that man and I were out somewhere when I was down in Rhode Island working out some of my own issues. I do remember it was winter and damn cold.
We were walking up to the door after getting home and I asked him, “Knowing what you know, would you do it again”. This is one of those you had to be there moments. The man knew my question didn’t come out of anything but interest in how he felt and what he thought.
“Knowing what you know, would you do it again” and the reply was, “My country called”.
Not another word was spoken between us. We both knew and understood what was in the answer.
Three words made up a “you had to be there” moment. I cannot convey everything that was in those three words. You had to see the man when he said, “My country called”. I could tell you about it so you could see and understand. I can’t write what I saw that day because no amount of words is going to be able to describe that moment properly.
I spoke of that moment a couple times with people in conversation because it fit with what we were talking about. I never told anyone about this encounter that is close to the man. The conversation was between him and me and except for those few instances, that is where it stayed.
Toughest man I ever knew. One of the best men I’ve ever known too.
Semper Fi, definitely. Character, absolutely.
Francis “Frank” Connors is survived by my cousin Karen, son Eli, daughters Shannon, Sandra and Michelle. Grandchildren, more family, others who love him and by what is now, a grateful nation.
Gary Hambley, May 15, 2017
An entire musical genre will be killed by Autonomous Cars and killin’s a crime! We must save the “Car Tunes”! The evil must be stopped. We simply cannot let the enough to frost you flakes win!
It hit me like a truck carrying 30,000 pounds of bananas. It took my breath away and turned me cold. Left me feeling fuzzy, distorted, like I was looking out of just one eye.
There is conspiracy to set loose this killer in our midst. We must come together and stop them. Stop them before there are none of us left who can even recognize that a dastardly deed was perpetrated!
Autonomous Cars; have you considered what is going to happen to “Car Tunes” and “Cruising”? There will be no more new “just gotta get me in my car and go” tunes. Aint nobody is going to know the pure pleasure of cruising metal so how the hell is anyone going to write new “Car Tunes”?
Reworking, “Row Your Boat” in to, “Roll Your Robot” just aint cutting it for me.
Those of us who love to drive must crush these bastards! Anyone that would do such a despicable thing, you just gotta question their parentage. Are the perpetrators inbred and so lacking in mental acuity they didn’t see it? Are they inherently evil?
Lets just leave it at “Bastard” as representing a file. It is more than fair to say these Bastards are rubbing me and not in a good way!
We should be be real clear about what we are and what we aren’t talking about. We are talking about enjoying driving. I love to just cruise sometimes. Tunes and road with time to think and sing is good for what ails you.
We know what happens when certain songs come on, that urge to pedal faster is compelling. We are not talking about going like a bat out of hell cuz you’re in a hurry. Cruisin, there aint no hurry, ever. If you’re in a hurry, you are not cruising. Simple stuff.
We aint talking about public displays show casing the mine is better and faster than yours set. We aren’t talking about behaviour that’s going to have you kissing your own or anyone’s life away either.
Cruising aint speeding and cruising aint racing. You know what they aren’t so don’t do it.
I’m not going to go through all the players with this. All are much the same so I’ll stick with the Michigan 3.
I see FORD recently gave 1Billion to A.I. research. Yes you American Heavy Metal Muscle fans, FORD is going to be putting Mustang Sally out in the ally, forever. No more ponies but there will be lots of pictures of peonies on the digital viewer during your moderated coastal transport.
Chevrolet, a couple million Killer BOLTS on the run by 2018. Fleets of them Bolts brought to you by dolts. Driverless Fleets, and a good time was had by a few, at bonus time.
So what did they kill? Good times for sure and jobs too. I’m not seeing where each vehicle would require a single operator like a tactical drone. The Bolt is, “an on-demand ride-sharing network application”. It doesn’t cruise, ever.
While I was tuning this baby up, “Good Friend” asked me, “If an autonomous car parks illegally who pays the fine?”. This does resolve a service issue as we will still need these people to crack down on those autonomous villains!
Chrysler, something called the “Portal”. Isn’t that a comforting cozy name? It sounds like space travel and makes me wonder if we’re closer to teleportation than we’re being told. Damn thing doesn’t have any pedals so you just know the vehicle is a mechanism for delivering the blasé.
Yes, “Life Is A Highway” and we can do without the “Rascal Flatts” way of doing it cuz it’s just damn wrong Mr Disney! Supporting Canadian Rock is no different than supporting American Heavy Metal!
On this highway of life, driving yourself is way up there on the pleasure curve. Even in adverse conditions, I’m good and in truth more comfortable having the wheel than being the passenger.
Car Tunes, lots of them! More than even I believed possible. I’ll warn you, some of them aren’t that good.
So if Autonomous Vehicles are the way of the future, will the “Car Tunes” be written by an A.I. with Auto-Tune? Can you imagine what those songs are going to sound like? Ew!
I suppose I can handle the words with things like “Beach Bound” and “Everyone’s Girl” but I’m going to need someone to write the dots cuz I just aint got the skill set.
Girls, you got the drive to drive too. The guys all know there are women that have exactly the same desire as men, the girls who love to go go GO CRUISIN’! Parking is different than cruisin’ which can lead to parking.
See if you road roaming Chickies can work with this…
Crop this baby blues top, give it a rag, eye candy in the shot gun seat and tell me you aren’t ready to be crusin’!?
Personally, I’m oh so good with the wind blown bewitching! No I won’t be wearing an Ascot!
One more thing girls, when you venture out, If it’s PCH* you be crusin’ on, do not, rocket launch an alligator lizard!
All kidding aside, I demand the autonomy to drive myself!
G.R. Hambley ©
March 27, 2017
*PCH – Pacific Coast Highway
For Your Cruise Listening Pleasure
30,000 Pounds Of Bananas – Harry Chapin
One Headlight – The Wallflowers (Jacob Dylan)
Radar Love – Golden Earring
Racing In The Street – Bruce Springsteen
Last Kiss – Pearl Jam
Good Friend had this to say about Pearl Jam’s cover when I said PJ’s cover is what I’m going to use and I agree with the analysis ; Pearl Jam’s version captures the mood better than the original, which was too cheerful for the content.
Mustang Sally – Wilson Pickett
Lovely Rita – The Beatles
Life Is A Highway – Tom Cochrane
Ventura Highway – America
Grace Kelly and Cary Grant – To Catch A Thief 1995 – Hitchcock
(Lyric)
These days are almighty long
the nights so lonely
Giving the best for the cheque
spending nights in hazy dread
Remembering those afternoon delights
now none and nowhere to be found
Born to be worn on
worn on down
set down deep
Flew far from what wasn’t home
so much done with no regret
Climbing on to the last dance dream
never noticed the music end
Left alone to the falling apart
the hopes all slipping away
Born to be worn on
worn on down
set down deep
Young they say is wasted on the young
thirty-three and don’t remember when
Mirror, mirror where’d it all go
lines long as sidewalk cracks
What’s left not what it started out to be
no one to run to too tell
Born to be worn on
worn on down
set down deep
No solace, no consolation prize
can’t even get blind
There’s so little point anymore
it’s all fallen apart
Tears from a lost life dripping
drying on the gun in hand
Born to be worn on
worn on down
set down deep
down deep in the ground
G.R. Hambley ©
December 18, 2016
Remembering what those that went before us gave so that we enjoy the freedom we do. Remembering that fighting for freedom is still necessary.
I have family that was in service including one I never met.
The one of my family I never met was my paternal Grandfather. That man was killed in WW II. A dispatch rider hit by a truck at night under black out conditions. It was one of our trucks.
A father and uncle who were in the Canadian Navy. A great uncle who was in WW II. Another uncle who was an Air cadet and went on to Canadian Army Reserve. My Father joined the Canadian Army Reserve too. I have a cousin by marriage that was a United States Marine. The cousin that man married, born in Canada, served in the U.S. National Guard.
My own service was Air Cadets Canada.
You would expect that with all the centuries of warring the world wouldn’t be as tough a place as it is. Sadly and stupidly, this not the case. We don’t have to remember because we are reminded on a daily basis that oppression and war are still integral to the operation of this planet.
There is more talk of making November 11th a holiday in Canada. It’s a shame it is easier to get people to stop for a whole day than it is to get them to stop for 2 minutes at the 11th hour.
Remembrance Day 2015
Remembrance Day 2014
G.R. Hambley – November 10, 2016
All rights reserved
One night holy shared by two, silver sliver moon below stars
Nestled under heaven, joining of hearts, quenching passions thirst
Creeping in the night next, compelled to return, relive scene divine
Espying her apparition, dancing freely without care, no one’s there
Unrequited, in mourning, she dances in shrouds, death’s despair
Possession, intention unveiled, beckoned by a wave, lost to desire
Obsession, the spinning partner, the soul denied, never no mind
Nuance in embrace, glacial to the touch, volcanic to the taste
Angel in decay, man in dismay, one fallen, one falling in love
Too which is each, not readily discernible, both with eyes blue
Intrinsic are both to each, compelled to the dance, La Petite Mort
Melody of the melding diminishes, doth plays on the music of the night
Enervated, elevated, physically and emotionally eviscerated
Holistic, realistic, the truth can be at times, wholly sadistic
Entanglements of the flesh, estranged to the world of the waking
Recollection in the light, passage there be by choosing eternal night
G.R. Hambley ©
June 29, 2016
There are two stories and a resultant lyric poem here. One story is about relationship. The other is a story of a couple collaborations that came as a result of the relationship. How two people’s mutual likes begat more.
I’ve brought the Life Coach and Artist and Another Artist to this piece but you can scroll down to the lyric poetry if you so choose.
These two people encountered each other as peers. A real relationship formed from their encounter and they became and shall always be good friends.
More simply I liked her goodies and she liked mine. No, you don’t have to send the kids out of the room. This is a family hour tale and would be a good one to share with the kids. The kiddies might not be ready for the lyric poetry.
Both of us write, well. Two writers got together and something very good happened. The fact is 3 very good things happened on the writing level. Yes friendships are good things too but those are beyond being good and have special place as this friendship does.
You may have seen “Little Black Dressed” differently. If you haven’t you can read the exercise in poetry that Lady Anonymous and I did. Poetry for an Acrostic phrase I came up with, “Little Black Dress”. The first letter of every line when read down like a crossword puzzle make the phrase. Together we gave the readers the perspective from both a woman and a man on that item of apparel. Lady Anon was kind enough to give it up for me when I asked her to write the woman’s perspective.
Looking at things differently led to collaborating with Lady Anon again to this time make lyric poetry. We got to know each other better and a friendship grew. Grew in the same way all relationships grow, by getting to know each other.
Early on in the relationship me and Lady A, we’d say the exact same thing to each other but different. She’d send me things with a consideration and I’d do the same for her. She’d say something like, “if you’ve seen this, sorry for sending it”. I’d send things and say, “I don’t know what you know, I know what I know” for something she might already know. My friend and me, we haven’t used those disclaimers for a long time now. Some things become a given and some givens in relationship are comfortable.
After that interlude, back to collaboration.
I was reading the poem by Lady Anon and saw something that got me thinking. I gave her piece a little spin, flipping the 3rd and 4th stanzas. Then I headed over to a piece I’d written, “Corridor’s End” to ponder on the chorus in that poem.
I checked in with Lady Anonymous on whether or not I’d shown her just the flipping of the stanzas or moved the piece along to her after I’d added the chorus in. She is of the mind that I put it together and then sent along what I’d done for her consideration so we’ll go with that.
Yes, there was some concern on my part how what I had done would be received. At the time I did what I did, the relationship we have hadn’t been going on for all that long. You start playing with someone’s work, there is damn good reason for you to have concern!
I’m never comfortable with begging forgiveness rather than asking permission. Fortunately Lady Anonymous really liked what I did. She also assuaged my slightly guilty conscience and assured me no harm and there was no concern because it was me.
We take a little sideslip back in to the relationship here. This relationship began in a place common to both of us. Two people out doing things they like to do in a place they like to do it. There are others who do the same. We are talking about the Internet and not a local writers circle. The specific location we both hang out on the web is WordPress.
I’ve shared this little tidbit with people for a long time and frequently with people wondering why they can’t meet someone, why they can’t find relationship. Simple stuff really. You only meet people in 2 places and 2 places only. The 2 places you meet people are at work and in your activities. That’s it.
If you live to work you’ll probably find someone in your work environment like you and the two of you will be quite happy. If you work to live, it means “you” getting out there and doing the things “you” like to do in the places those things happen. Means you might be going places on your own but the bright side is, when you get there you’ll find other people doing that same thing you like to do!
Lady A knew me well enough to know that I see differently, I go delving in to works from different angles. You can see for yourself what I mean by the different angles by reading, “Overdosed, The Creation Of”. FYI, Lady Anonymous was an incredible sounding board as that piece of poetry came to life.
We talked about why I flipped the stanzas. By flipping the stanzas we had the tale of a woman who just couldn’t take the charade anymore. A woman who couldn’t be what she’d become. A woman who has reached her emotional end. The original poem in its acrostic form wouldn’t have stood up just by giving it a chorus. The tale would of been disjointed.
Lady Anonymous in her version of, “Little Black Dress” showed the woman in both 1st person and 3rd person. We had a good amount of chatter back and forth between us during the titching and the result is all 1st person and oh so very personal!
Lady A’s woman’s touch was especially helpful when I was punching up the chorus. It was in consultation with Lady A that I took the masculine harder hit out for a softer landing.
For all of you, Lady Anonymous will always be, Good Friend.
We hope you enjoy this collaborative work as much as “WE” enjoyed its creation!
G.R. Hambley ©
May 26, 2016
Living out life in a gleeful rage
Innocence in this smile, tricks in another
The sweetness of the slaughter upon the lips
The second-hand silk is only a tease
Nowhere to be, what flew from heaven at your sound
Hoping and praying, the sound of the wings just not around
Looking for approval while asking for criticism
Emotions raw beneath the reflection
Betraying the cards up this sleeve
Lucky that mirrors always forget
Nowhere to be, what flew from heaven at your sound
Kneeling and praying, the sound of the wings just not around
Returning home alone once more
Every morning it’s just the same
Salting the wounds with a shot of Jack
Sleeping past noon in last night’s silk
Nowhere to be, what flew from heaven at your sound
Falling and praying, the sound of the wings just not around
Assaulting jealousy with laughter
Concealing the weariness with wit
Killing time in exquisite ways
Dying, one day, with memories instead of fantasies
Now it’s gone, no more when you call is an angel found
No angel can save you when your body touches down
Now it’s gone
No angel around
Now it’s gone
No angel found
Lady Anonymous & G.R. Hambley ©
March 12, 2015
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