Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

  • not only the lonely

    Loneliness has been romanticized, hypothesized, criticized, and realized time and again, for years and years, and still it exists as it never has before.
    It is an isolating condition we all, I believe, have experienced at one (or many) points in our lives.
    A Minister of Loneliness has been appointed in the United Kingdom to address social isolation across all age groups. Loneliness has been aligned with so many mental illnesses that it may itself be one of the most widely-spread mental ailments of all time.
    Being lonely is depressing; in fact, it can be both the cause and result of depression.
    We don’t really talk about it.
    It takes a certain strength to speak about loneliness, and you don’t have that strength if you are lonely.
    Loneliness is easy; you can do it all by yourself.
    But you don’t need to be alone to be lonely. You can easily feel alone in a city full of strangers, or with a small group of friends, anywhere, or any time.
    I have been lonely, in different stages, at different times in my life. It feels lonely just to write it down, but you cannot address a personal issue unless you are prepared to admit to it.
    Loneliness is a state of mind, a sign of the times, and can be one of the greatest conundrums. Not always emptiness, loneliness can be the result, or the cause, of anxiety. Loneliness can take you deep inside your mind, or your mind can lead you to loneliness.
    Fear of being alone can only make you lonelier, the effects felt from the brain through the body.
    It is confusing.
    In a world where there are more people than ever; at a time when communication is more accessible, (if not instant), the state of loneliness has never been more present. Still, loneliness is one of those topics many people will not speak about.
    Overcoming loneliness cannot be as simple as simply saying ‘find a friend’, or ‘talk about it’, but it can be a start.
    Let’s talk.
    Let’s see.
    Know when the feeling isn’t right, and begin there.

    ©2018 j.g. lewis

    Only the lonely
    Know the way I feel tonight
    Only the lonely
    Know this feelin’ ain’t right
                                      -Roy Orbison

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  • a reason to see

    To read poetry is to escape from the depths and doldrums of everyday life and to take a place among words and emotions that make life bearable.
    I carry with me in my bag, everyday, a book or volume of poetry; a purposeful exercise that allows me to step away from boredom or the corporate bullshit that all-too-frequently envelopes my day.
    Poetry, whether I’m reading or writing, grounds me. 
    It allows me to be who I am.
    It allows me to see who I am.
    It allows me to take some time and make it mine.
    Often I don’t get enough time, but a few lines or stanzas of a poem is enough to reflect on where I am, or deflect the attitudes or algorithms that attempt to corrupt my humanity.
    Poetry is a reason to be; poetry is a reason to see the world and wonder of where we are.

    01/27/2019 j.g.l.

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  • all of this

    Movement, not always motion. Steadfast in  
    my intentions, I will seek a deeper understanding, 
    not always evident, or available, in the moment 

    Somewhere not far behind these sullen thoughts, 
    materialities of bygone days will eventually creep  
    into patterns I wish to avoid. 

    I have been here before, mentally or spiritually. 
    Geographically it does not matter. 
    The streets continue to blur on by.

    Alone with my consideration or apprehension, 
    I can only try to look beyond the days, behind 
    shadows of the ever-present aftermath.

    I am trying not to do anything I have done. 
    Before. All of this. Still constant conviction 
    haunts me, as it often does. 

    Why should this evening be any different? 
    Only the direction has changed. 
    I am going to, instead of coming from. 

    © 2024 j.g. lewis 

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  • there

    When the fog lifts
    will it show what it hides
    inside
    our comfortable homes
    and uncomfortable lives

    When the morning lights
    will we see what is
    within
    our tangible disappointments
    and inequitable sins

    When the night moves
    will you still find me there
    will you
    offer your wisdom
    or a cold vacant stare

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

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  • uncertainty

    A proverbial line in the sand, twists and bends
    a rubber band, ideals and morals
    stretching and straining
    until it snaps.
    You, there now, wondering
    what to accept.
    Everything you hope, along with
    anything you don’t
    blurred.
    No tears, not that you will admit, still
    the vision is not clear. Where you are,
    what can you see?
    It can only be
    uncertainty.

    Within our dead wisdom and cluttered minds
    boundaries are defined, so we can know
    who to allow
    into our lives,
    or how far we will let them go
    before we say no.
    Always within the shadow of the question,
    exorbitant explanations
    were true before,
    but now?
    Was it not evermore? What we don’t see
    cannot hurt us, still the pain resonates.
    It can.
    And will.

    Have you forsaken those with a powerful presence
    for fear you will be crushed? Are you not
    strong enough?
    You won’t know until you try.
    Do you compromise your self
    for a quick rush, to see how it feels,
    did you like where
    it touched? A temporary crutch?
    Promises may have been illusions,
    or may have been true.
    Grieving dreams,
    you second-guess the honesty,
    a reply to which
    you won’t believe.

    Is darkness looming at the door, or
    is it light? It’s been there before,
    and the vices chosen
    to medicate
    and the thoughts once used to meditate
    don’t take away what is there.
    You look both ways, crossing
    a road travelled many times before.
    Will you open up the sturdy door?
    Or question how you will, or did,
    or can
    have the courage to ask. With
    more trials than tasks,
    what will you accept?


    © 2016 j.g. lewis

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