Who Would've Thought
Though this tale is simply my creation, and the characters
fictional, I hope that you’ll find it worthwhile,
For it’s another attempt to convey what will hopefully prove of value —
via its poetical style.
Yes, a tale dealing with the harsh realities of life, but not without a
certain positivity,
For though this world oft depresses and distresses, there’s still joy
for those who respond to it creatively.
Jamie couldn’t hold his liquor, hence the fights, the nights behind bars — and all too frequently, the job losses,
They being the product of mood swings — yes, drugs as well as booze — and hence those words, “You’re fired!” from various bosses.
Well, the time came when no one in town would employ him, and being without a friend, he hit the road heading south,
And with nothing but a backpack slung over his shoulder, the clothes he wore, and a cigarette in his mouth.
He figured he’d find work somewhere, that being anywhere, and a number of lifts later it was Melton,
Another town amongst the many dotting the countryside between the cities Greendale and Harrington.
And there he found work in a timber yard, lodgings in the company’s bunkhouse, and a friend as rough as he,
Who shared his love affair with whisky and hash — a right pair of misfits who were at odds with society.
And once again the fights, the nights behind bars, but this time seldom alone, for the two were as thick as thieves,
Every moment seemingly spent in pubs or brothels, and money thus falling from their hands like autumn leaves.
And yes, “You’re fired!” echoing just as frequently, but this time two heading out the gate, and eventually,
Two hitting the road in search of another town, various jobs and lodgings, until Harrington city.
Play with fire and you’re sure to get burnt by fire, and so it was with Jamie’s mate Paul, who, midst a drunken brawl,
Pulled a knife on someone with a hidden gun, who fired a bullet at his chest, which saw him fatally sprawl.
And there, cradled in Jamie’s arms, (who now was beside himself with grief), Paul dropped his head in finality,
Which left Jamie feeling as angry as ever, and more so, though somewhat sobered by the reality.
Well, Jamie hit the road again, but this time in a rig, a danger to any who might use the same road,
Inner demons and a hangover from the night before waiting to explode, and on someone dump their load.
And sure enough, those eighteen wheels driven by an inner rage hit Tombstone corner at twice the cautioned speed,
Dispensing with its occupant as if he were a rag doll, serious injuries more than guaranteed.
And he not alone, for the occupants of the vehicle he’d collected on his way were injured too,
Though miraculously more shaken than injured, their shadows now coming into his barely conscious view.
And if it wasn’t for the quick thinking and training of the also wounded that were now coming to his aid,
He would’ve soon been occupying underground quarters purposely sculptured by a sharp and shiny spade.
Hospital’s never a pleasant place to be, and more so when a court appearance awaits, and oh dear me,
What awaited Jamie wasn’t too hard to guess, and jail hardly likely to improve his mentality.
However, Jamie was learning a thing or two, even though such was taking its time, and somewhat fog bound,
And within that hospital, and by his beside, a very level-headed nurse was regularly found.
One who very early on had got the measure of the man, for Jamie was hardly one for etiquette,
His grievances still showing despite his injuries, as if he wasn’t prepared to let the world forget.
Yes, shunted between orphanages, abused, accused, and treated harshly, deprived of so much loving care,
A ship without a rudder, a tree devoid of its roots, his loss, hurt and pain, loud, raw, wild and crystal-clear.
Janet knew hurt too, but had focussed her energies on relieving the lot of others just as needy,
Knowing that what we can’t change in life is better accepted and left behind, lest it bring more misery.
And in her own gentle but firm way, such she attempted to convey, her manner helping the months go by,
For both emotional and physical healing can take time, and even the best of intentions defy.
But little by little, her kindly ways, her carefully chosen pithy words, and obvious empathy,
Slowly chipped away at the granite that held Jamie prisoner, a fortress he’d defended vigorously,
Though Jamie now appreciating those daily visits that tended to his emotional wounds as well,
And he, now wondering why a different voice was disrupting his sleep today, aided via the morning bell.
It seemed as if someone had viciously kicked him in the stomach, he now gasping for breath — the chiseller gone,
An intoxicated driver, they said, she killed instantly — oh, how those words echoed on and on and on.
And though the replacement nurse was pleasant enough, (they all being dedicated), she was hardly Janet Hall,
The victim of a befuddled speedster, the irony not lost on Jamie, whose fist would oft thump the wall.
Well, the day came when Jamie appeared before a seasoned judge, his attorney being a contact of Janet Hall,
Who, thanks to Janet’s pre-death pleadings on Jamie's behalf, now implored the judge make a compassionate call.
And he, being a kindly man like Janet’s contact, and aware of the unfairness of life that afflicts many,
(And hence all those appearances in court), responded to Jamie’s situation rather creatively.
Rather than prison, given there’d been no deaths, nor serious injury to others, and bearing in mind too
That insurance had covered the rig and the other vehicle involved, and that Jamie had suffered too,
Jamie would spend the next two years running a shelter for the homeless in Braeburn, and during those two years,
Was not to touch liquor and drugs, nor to re-offend — and there, he’d be paid; and assisted by volunteers.
Well, Jamie was savvy enough to know that such was a generous offer, one that he couldn’t refuse,
And there, he would at least be with fellow sufferers, who for months on end, even years, that shelter would use.
And there, his energy lost in others, and with Janet’s words in mind, he soon began to mature and heal,
And in time, given the sad tales that entered that shelter, he for the plight of others began to fight and feel.
Jill was such a case, she in her late forties, and here they were talking late into the night as others slept,
Something about her and her heartbreaking tale reaching deeply into Jamie’s soul, where inwardly he wept.
Things had started off well, she the pretty bride, and the boy next door the handsome bridegroom, both very happy,
And with time there came a humble cottage, a little business, and three children, each fed, clothed, loved and healthy.
Well, as so oft happens to the dreams of many, given that we live in a world that’s broken and jagged,
A recession hit, and their business flopped, and out of the now repossessed cottage a boozy husband staggered,
Along with a tearful wife and distressed children, who in time witnessed their unwell father dealing in drugs,
Such leading to his demise, for his untimely death was assured when he double-crossed some neighbourhood thugs.
Jill now beside herself with grief and fear, and devoid of income, turned to thievery and prostitution,
For though such was so contrary to her will, standards and nature, such seemed to be the only solution.
Now, much could be said of this, but circumstances and situations are quite another thing, and who’re we
To sit in judgment and condemn, and even more so, where an individual has suffered so badly.
And suffer she had indeed, for her three barely school age children were permanently removed from her care,
And she, left to find her own way through the fog that now engulfed her life, hence why at shelters she’d oft appear.
Oh, what would such folk do without these havens that in fact shame society, for such a need shouldn’t be,
The result of corporate and general greed, selfishness and indifference that plagues humanity.
And then there’s plain misfortune, our own folly, ill that’s inflicted on us, not to mention calamity,
Such being the result of living in a world that badly bites, and midst chaos that was never meant to be.
The strain showed in Jill’s face, her eyes a window to her pain, pain that no curtain hid, for such was palpable,
And despite those personal details falling from her lips, there were no doubt many more tales that she could tell.
For there in that world where people live on the streets — in other words, under bridges, in parks and down allies,
There’re so many human shipwrecks, they the victims of cruel wind whipped waves that oft surge across life’s stormy seas.
There was a long pause, and Jamie sought to fill the gap. “Have you seen your children since?” “No, never,” she replied.
Jamie’s hand moved to her arm, tears welling up in those curtainless windows, and ever so gently she cried.
“I’m so sorry,” Jamie volunteered again. And there was another long pause. “Say, what were your children’s names, Jill?”
She dabbed her eyes with the offered hanky. “Paul, Janet and Jamie,” she replied, and Jamie went very still.
She dabbed at the moisture again, unaware of the disbelief on Jamie’s face. “And your husband’s name, Jill?”
She raised her head. “Bruce, Bruce Hall.” “That’s my last name,” Jamie choked, “Hall, I mean.” And now it was her turn to go still.
Well, how could my words describe what happened next, though their joy was marred, for life seldom has fairytale endings,
But rather, batters us with reality, cold hard facts — such being, those commonly marred or tragic endings.
Thus, there’s often salt in the sugar — in other words, pain amidst our joy, our joy seemingly on crutches,
For in this world that’s groaning with decay, there’s very little that trouble, heartache and pain never touches.
And such being so in Jamie and Jill’s case — yes, pain mingled with joy — for their happiness was marred by their loss,
That loss deep indeed, a loss that went well beyond life’s common sandpapers that remove so much surface gloss.
But despite that loss, there was certainly joy — yes, a mother and son reunited — and with much more to share,
And share they did, Jill joining her son in the running of the Braeburn shelter, where so many would appear.
And amongst them, a young woman who caught Jamie’s eye, one who looked a great deal like his sister — nurse Janet,
And who in Jamie’s eyes, (and indeed in his life), soon appeared as if the only person on the planet.
Yes, he was well and truly smitten — and she, soon joining the mother and son team, a team that remained there,
A team that reached out to the down and outers — a highly regarded shelter where all received loving care.
And that same loving care visited Jill in the form of another suitor, who, very regularly
Contributed to the needs of the Braeburn shelter, and in time, shared his wealth in holy matrimony.
Thus, what once began well, but went amiss in the course of time, finished well, though not a fairytale ending,
For though a brighter future was found, there was still those losses, and thus a sadness that wouldn’t be ending.
That is to say, that their new found happiness would always be mingled with a sadness, for how could such not be,
Given that some things never fade but remain in the mind, and say, who would want to forget their family?
And that’s how it so often is in life, for as mentioned before, we live in a world that’s cruel and unfair,
And why an acceptance of such is crucial, that we may roll with the punches, and not give in to despair.
For most of us, it’s all about seeking joy midst the sadness and pain, and though wounded, continuing on,
Thereby making the most of life, despite those crippling punches, and before our three score years and ten are gone.
And who knows what’s around the corner, for life can also surprise with the pleasant, even bring us much joy,
And in Jamie’s case, (a very different man), it wasn’t long before his wife produced a baby boy.
Yes, a Paul and Jamie look-a-like — and all being well, his future would be a bright one, and his sibling’s too,
For not too further down the track, his wife produced a darling baby daughter — in other words, number two.
And so it often is, that midst our losses, there are also certain gains — and here, replacements, seemingly,
That is, in the form of Jamie’s children, something not lost on Jill, who treated them most affectionately.
You can put your hanky away now — it’s only a story — but one designed to encourage hope midst pain,
Whilst at the same time — and primarily — dealing with the harsh facts of life, for midst sunshine there’s oft rain.
Hence the expression, “That’s life,” and so it is, made better or worse by our choices, come our response to things;
A valuable lesson that we can even learn from nature itself — for you know, even the caged bird sings.
And yes, who would've thought...
By Lance Landall
This poem was penned November 2011
Hit The Road Jack
Though this world is in turmoil, there’s a song in my heart, for I have made up my mind to make the best of things —From which hope springs — for despite any ill around me, I can be at peace within, and hence why my heart sings.
Yes, troubles always come and go, even linger awhile, but why should I let them have it all their own way?
For troubles are trouble enough without me giving them a shovel, and for good measure, a heap of clay.
So, better to make the best of things, for we’re only allotted three score years and ten — sometimes less or more —
And much of that is spent sleeping, which means we’ve even less time to celebrate life, and this or that explore.
And to gain the most from life, we need that cheery inner melody, a calm and positive energy,
For wallowing in sorrow, bemoaning our misfortunes, or nursing our wounds, thwarts hope and possibility.
Yes, it’s better to show negativity the end of our boot, thus telling those troubles a thing or two,
For though we can’t always stop troubles coming our way, we don’t have to feed and clothe them, nor tuck them in too.
No, for they’ve no right in our life, unless we foolishly invite them, and that would be a terrible shame,
For troubles often steal enough as it is, and oh, how sad it is when we only have ourselves to blame.
But such needn’t be, and why when troubles gatecrash our life, we should meet them with courage and authority,
They thus receiving a reception that thwarts their worst, we showing them who’s boss, despite some cruel injury.
And midst any ensuing scuffle, we smiling and singing, even whistling a tune like “Hit The Road Jack,”
And then prudently guarding the door, lest via not doing so, more troubles enter, or those old ones come back.
Yes, hit the road troubles, "and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more..."
By Lance Landall
Never Expect
A lesson I’ve been taught, though one perhaps not fully learnt, is to never expect-cum-wait expectantly,For so often in this life we don’t get what we should, be that emotionally or materially.
And the reason why is, because we live in a cold, callous and selfish world, one where folk don’t always think,
Nor are always able to see, and why, (figuratively speaking), many who can’t swim are left to sink.
Hence why so many are going it alone, and sometimes that’s all that one can do, and that, as best one can,
Given that what we’ve a right to expect, (though not wise to be expecting), is withheld by our fellowman.
They making excuses for not attending to whatever need, or simply acting indifferently,
Many fattening their lot while others are going without or not enough, or struggling emotionally.
Perhaps you’re someone who doesn’t expect, but who knows what should be happening, and in that sense, feel
angry,
Which though understandable, really doesn’t get us anywhere, and oft worsens things considerably.
For people sometimes harden their hearts, and in their ignorance or selfishness, they look upon us badly,
We only creating some rift or row, and more troubles for our self, and why it’s best to act prudently.
You see, people either give or they don’t — it’s either in their heart to or it’s not — and when we force folk to,
We may get what we want, but have we changed things for the better, and how does that make us feel, though such
be due?
The truth is, that humanity will always let us down, and seldom live up to our expectations, for
Though those expectations might be reasonable, people often aren’t, and our plight can thoughtlessly ignore.
But such aside, it’s always far better to give than to expect, for what goes around often comes around,
And how we sometimes end up getting what we needed — a pleasant experience that many folk have found.
And hence why when we share the little that we do have, we can end up better off — and we, far more at peace —
Unlike many who though knee-deep in treasure, selfishly keep such to themselves, and such even seek to
increase.
Now back to where I came in...
Yes, so many are struggling or suffering in some way, they so in need, and expecting what should be so,
But they’re bound to be disappointed, if not already, as many who’ve gone before only too well know.
And why it pays to never expect, but rather, to speak on behalf of others who’re in need, and strongly,
Once again remembering that what goes 'round oft comes 'round; and we hoping, not expecting, much more
wisely...
Yes, there’s nothing wrong with living in hope, for hope can keep us going, so long as it’s reality based,
And by that I mean, (and in the meantime), that the issues that we have in our life need to be squarely faced.
For whether we expect or hope, we may not receive the thing or things that we desire, such more oft the case,
And why expecting can lead to disappointment and hamper contentment — the latter oft spoilt by what we chase.
Yes, never expect, and if you do receive what you should — rejoice!
By Lance Landall
Catch On?
Even when life has dealt us blows, left us with hurt and pain, it’s better to remain loving,And midst the fog of broken dreams, heartache and loss, to seek out others with whom we can sing.
By that I mean, to lose ourselves in selfless acts and gentle ways, and words that warm and heal,
For responding any differently, even more joy, peace, hope and happiness will steal.
Yes, such is how we make our heart smile again, how we still move forward, and find our way through,
Searching for any little thing that will brighten, found in those things that for others we do.
For as we lift another’s spirit, ease their lot, and via those loving acts of kindness share,
Our own load is lightened, our season soothed, and possibilities are oft seen to appear.
We shouldn’t dwell on what we’re missing, on what might’ve been, or even on what should’ve been,
But rather, make the most of the present and what we have, for things will always intervene.
Hence why life’s really in the living, the being, our sight, our hearing, even our sense of smell,
And not so much in grandiose plans, nor romantic dreams, for many betray, kiss and tell.
Better to thrive on little, for little disappoints less, given expectations are low,
And given that acceptance and contentment are the two greatest friends that any can know.
For we all arrived with nothing, and will leave with nothing, given living is in the being,
And why we’ll never experience true peace until this little gem of truth we’re seeing.
By Lance Landall
