D Is For… Dark. REALLY Dark.

Hello all.  I am really busy today.  My employer is packing up and moving offices.  We are getting a lot of the packing done today and plan to actually move on Monday.  I started to call this post ‘D is For Deconstruction’ and ramble on about the move and the transition and all, but in the end, that topic is really not all that entertaining.  On the other hand, currently it’s just a little bit crazy around here, which is why I bring you the following A t0 Z Challenge post for the letter D.  Short and sweet.

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But first some backstory.  I am a poet.  As you can see at the top of the screen, there is a tab that says My Poetry and Fiction.  Unfortunately I haven’t posted any fiction there, no short stories or anything like that, although my Cruise Report is a really entertaining read if I do say so myself.  But I digress.  I am a poet.  I have written poetry since about 8th or 9th grade.  Writing poetry, like most creative endeavors, is somewhat cathartic for me, healing, cleansing, purging, etc.  I have been through a few dark periods in my life, and my poetry usually reflects that.  Also, I have a tendency to have mood swings that would give a person whiplash.  I won’t go so far as to say I have Bipolar Disorder, but I have felt that way at times, and many people have suggested to me that possibility.  So here is a very brief verse I wrote years ago, sometime when I was really struggling with the moody.

 

—”Suicide Note”—

Deep in a Dank, Dark, Dreary, and Damnable mood,

Depression & Despair Dive Deftly to the Depths of the soul.

Daylight Dawns. Depression does not Dwindle.

Despair Deems Death the Decisive and Definitive cure.

7-4-96—— 7:00 pm

 

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Disclaimer:  Not all my poetry is dark and brooding.  Some of it is, but much of it is joyous and/or sensual.  If you go check out that tab, you may think it’s good, you may think it’s crap, you may or may not think it fits your definition of poetry, but it’s mine and I enjoy it.  And further disclaimer:  I am now eons away from whatever crappy day made me write the above poem, so don’t anybody go turning me in to the Suicide Hotline.  Thanks!

Until next time,

D.