Ramblings of Recovery Series 2 – She needs our brothers – a poem about men’s mental health – and being half way through back to positive MH



Consuming stings and spikes, but dream of sponge and custard,
They’ve burnt my wings, attacked my rights, switched tea for English mustard.
I believed the animation, integrity to wealth,
Passively investing, bad cholesterol to my health.

Pushed to cliffs and edges, with heights to scare the birds,
With voice and actions muted, letters fall away from words.
On shoulders of those giants, I stood and faced their seas,
The waves they grew impatient, taking souls in place of fees.

The cost of my approval, as behaviours crack and break me?
Wincing in the mirror, hating most of what I do see.
I called them out, they lost their way, their politics – my fury,
With cunning skill and toxic plans, their Courts dismissed their juries.

Hunter became the prey, with tables turned I bled,
I cannot sleep for all I need, and lie awake in dread.
Convinced I am the weak one, my anchor quickly rusting,
My path once paved with ethics, dug up, blind, mistrusting.

The broadside on all that is me, I laid down all my arms,
Tears they flowed in shadows, the audible alarm.
Words are sent in semaphore, the fog obscures the flags,
The stress of our modernity, my mental health it drags.

I’m not off work due to stress, my work is what I crave,
I’m off as my reaction links to how the few behave.
Convenience of switching round, that work has made me fold,
Their rocky path to follow, means reflection on their mould.

My mind – a snakes wedding, guests are now my tenants,
Rent free occupation, I work to shed this penance.
With pain still deep within my heart, of friends I’ve lost too soon,
The call I made that day to Nath’, preserved a thousand moons.

I didn’t feel that brave at all, compartments fit to burst,
This wave was all too big for me, my resilience – a curse.
Our friendship founded firmly on, sport and rum no judgements,
He led me off the field, and left the morally repugnant.

Finally I’m not ashamed, of reaching out and crying,
Toxic masculinity, dismantled now and dying.
The hardest call I’ve had to make, contents now not clear,
Clarity remains – his pride, my bravery from fear.

I’ve only just begun to walk, into this new adventure,

Time I know I must invest, my personal debenture.

To concentrate and focus less, on others thoughts and words,

Take the reins and tame, my responses to the world.

I hope these words they resonate, for some that read this rhyme,
If just one soul is reached like me, who rarely shares his life.
Which leads him to stretch, reach out, as life too often smothers,
We all just need to open up, the world – she needs our brothers!

PEDROBATPOET ©️ 2021
www.pedrobatpoet.com

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