Graham Cordwell's poems
(These follow Graham's
introduction.)
Self Medicating
Life on Hold - An Ode to PTSD
25 Years On
Antipodean Sunset
Disabled
Comfortably Numb
The Abandoned Soldier
Graham
Cordwell's introduction
I have visited your website often and
it has given me great inspiration. I was first diagnosed with
chronic PTSD in 2002, some 20 years after the Falklands War, and began
writing poems for the first time in February 2007. I am still
reading through the many wonderful poems which continue to inspire me and
I am still writing.
I have taken a great deal of time and given much thought to submitting
examples of my work and am now taking the first steps into the unknown.
Full name: Graham John Cordwell
Alias or nickname: GraCor
Biography:
I was born 30th April 1956 in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, England. The
middle child of five, at the age of 16yrs and 4mths I joined the British
Army as a boy soldier. At 18yrs I completed adult recruit and
parachute training and was posted to 2nd Battalion of The Parachute
Regiment (2 Para) with whom I served for nearly 15 years before resigning
in March 1988.
During this time I served 4 tours of
duty in Northern Ireland, totalling almost 3 years, and saw active service
in the Falklands War in 1982. I married in 1978 and have two
children. Unfortunately the marriage didn´t survive the Falklands
War and we divorced in 1986. I served as a police officer for 3 years in
Surrey Constabulary, England before resigning and moving to Norway with my
new wife in 1991.
In 1994 at the age of 38yrs at went to
college to become a social worker and thereafter worked with people with
drug and alcohol problems. In 2002, after a mental breakdown, I was
diagnosed with chronic PTSD. I have spent the past 5 years in
treatment and rehabilitation. I am eternally grateful to my wife who
manages to keeps me sane and I hope to be well again one day.
Graham John Cordwell (GraCor)
Self-medication
You embrace my soul and warm a longing
heart
Fill my lonely existence with comfort
on empty days
You take away my inhibitions and
release the laughter behind the mask
Give meaning to my pain, my feelings
find a voice
The friend in time of need, your
hospitality is infamous
I cannot live without your vile caress;
it gives succour to my weakness
We are a symbiosis of MADness, a
mutually assured destruction
Whilst I climb the walls and plumb the
depths
The grim reaper knows me well and has
visited many times
Despair maintains a constant vigil
I have sacrificed my life upon your
alter and loathe you with a vengeance
But seek you out at every turn
I dare not face the day without you,
even though your fire consumes me
Your demons haunt my every waking hour
I wrestle with my consciousness, a
struggle I cannot win
But I will not slip this life, not yet
At last to sleep, a silent desolate
refuge, a monotonous empty void
Where all thought is banished
A sublime release from all
responsibility, I become as nothing
Unseen and forgotten
No angst or imposition, no pressure to
perform
No feeling, nor pain
I succumb to the substance of choice,
self-medicated
At least for a while
GraCor © Copyright 2007
To top of page
Life on hold – An ode to PTSD
I do not own the causes of my pain
But they demand ownership of my mind
Grief and trauma are not contagious
But no-one wants to be touched by them
The unseen wound that never heals
The mental scars hidden from prying eyes
You pass me by with surprising regularity
Seeing what others do not
Hearing the sounds, smelling the odours
Vicious and invasive to this day
Dreaming uncomfortable visions
I cry out, remembering effortlessly and without desire
Slow-motion replays in an eternal loop
The sweat, the anguish, the shame
I should work as others to earn a daily crust
But am I valued even though I cannot provide
I once had status and responsibility, long gone
Once independent, reliable, energetic
The demons have captured me, body and soul
I stare at the flickering screen, it holds my gaze
I am overwhelmed by indecision
My mind aches for relief
Release from this mental struggle
I am tired, oh so tired of being tired
I want to sleep again without intrusion
Not to fear the laying of my head upon the pillow
Not to struggle with long nights of lonely vigil
I want to feel awake, alive, refreshed, anew
Once at the centre, now the fringe
The boundary pushing ever outward
Friends and colleagues getting fewer
The loneliness of a crowded room
Days without purpose, yet no time for thought
I see no future, but obscure the past
A haunting melody with sad refrain
I feel, therefore I must endure the moment
Attacked relentlessly by predatory thoughts
Mental knives that slash into my brain
Feelings uncontrollably surging, my heart awash with
sadness
Gushing tears of bloody anguish, staunched only by
chemicals
Then emptiness, a flat-lining void bereft of sensation
Empathy with the dying soul
Still here, life on hold
No rewind possible for this poor soldier
My imposed employment, to exist
Ask the existential questions, endure without respite
Fleeting moments of happiness in a sea of pain
I am a soldier still on duty, stagging on
Don’t pity me, just don’t look away!
GraCor © Copyright 2007
To top of page
25 Years On
Can´t sleep, afraid to dream
Can´t wake, too tired for lack of sleep
Can´t love for fear of losing
Losing you because I can no longer love
Days turned upside down
No focus, no structure
Time disappears without recollection
I plan so much, but achieve so little
Ironclad exterior, jelly at the core
The mask is all that binds me
I struggle to mouth the truth
Do you really want to hear my story?
Crying in my dreams, transported back to `82
The gorse and peat are still burning
Lanolin, smoke and cordite
The smells offend my nostrils
Every year I´m carried back, an eternal bond
Goose Green, a brief but violent visit
Yet vivid in my thoughts
Do they think of me, as I of them?
I lost it once in `85, it only cost my marriage
A minimal price some would say, a glitch
An aberration, that’s life, it happens!
Replaced the lid and carried on
I have a life, but not worth living
Invasive thoughts of death
A simple task to end it all
A struggle to maintain control
Feelings of dysfunction
Arms and legs, diminished feeling
Pain radiating throughout a ravaged body
Saddened eyes holding back tears
I could cry, but would anyone hear me
I will not show my weakness
A sense of pride holds me tight
Duty refuses to give up
The second time was `95
I thought the end was due
But no, I found the lid once more
Renewed the armour against the world
Then, alcohol induced psychosis
A comfortable friend
Long nights without reality
An empty, numb existence
In `02 life became a blur
A mystic fusion of realities
Raging heartbeat in my ears
Control, a seldom luxury
Struggle to maintain reality
A desire to own my fears
Fear of owning anything at all
Life without an existential meaning
If I cried, you’d see me bared
Undressed and naked as a child
I want to share my feelings
But would you survive the deluge?
I am tired, middle aged and marking time
A half lived post war dream
Years fit snugly into thoughts
A lifetime translated into moments
Now the final bureaucratic humiliation
An intimate inquisition, irrefutable proof of life
Ill and tired of repetition, I want to rest
To be finished, 25 years on
GraCor © Copyright 2007
To top of page
Antipodean Sunset
Blood red sky, violent
Silence that grips the senses
Wind that cuts to the bone, but dries the flesh
Sudden stillness of the sunset that calms our fears
The soundtrack of our lives haunting, sometimes vivid
Clinging to a thought of a lover far away
Summer turned to winter
Antipodean stars that guide our way
Fleeting images of life and death amongst the flames
The wrenching shrills of tormented souls
A fools overture lingers in my mind. Did his country call?
Maybe it´s in my mind, not real, not false
Happy smiling faces, heavy hearts and limbs
We came so far and left so many
The elation of the moment engulfs us, intoxicating, numbing
A thought of home is shunned with painful realisation
Voices reach across the ether, time and space connect
A conspiracy of human destruction, fate is close to deal another winning
hand
My mind turns to birth in the midst of death
I want to go home, but duty spurs me on
I cry inside, but no-one hears, only the guardians of my sanity
Fragile like the skin on water, one touch and my secrets overflow
Staccato glances reassure me, I´m back inside
Safe for now. Did anyone see?
GraCor © Copyright 2007
Disabled
I have been labelled
What am I worth?
In a society that doesn’t care
Cost-effective, best practiced, clinically excellent
My "best before" date is long since passed
Arthritic joints compete with wasted muscles
Body couch-bound and clamped in situ
A life without purpose
My parameters redefined by others
Medicated, sanitised, forgotten
Held in limbo, geared down, restrained
My body a straight-jacket for my existence
Neuropathways blocked or disconnected
Chemicals surging in my blood
A juggernaut raging in my head
The outside world thundering in my ears
Drive-in, drive-thru, driven society
Without rear-view perspective
Revved up and steaming forward
No place for those who can’t keep up
I am disabled by my mind
Society is disabled by my presence
I am left to ponder life
Kodak memories, filled with Prozac moments
GraCor © Copyright 2007
Comfortably Numb
Running the corridor that never ends
Searching relentlessly the wall of doors
Revisited by smells and visions
Vivid as the reality that shattered into my consciousness
Dulled by alcohol and indifference
Warmed by the hearth of a strange fire
Do you know this place?
Anesthetised, we sleep standing in our shoes
Sometimes woken by a nervous reflex
Another drink?
Sorry, time gentlemen please!
GraCor © Copyright 2007
To top of page
The Abandoned Soldier
The eyes betray the pain
Hollow, empty eyes
A lifetime in one glance
Blinking moist with sadness
In search of understanding
Barely holding back the tear
Alone, standing to attention
A solemn sight for all to view
A stubborn look about the face
Lips taught with embers of defiance
A wry ironic smile
A stoic sense of duty
The glorious dead do not grow old
The living are but vague reminders
Of a soldiers gift and a nations debt
A collective shame unwashed in generations
Putrid and bitter without a voice
Crying out for respect and restitution
Body racked with untold hurt
Phantom pain from near useless limbs
Age has wearied him
And the years condemned
The shadow of a once proud man
Who took the shilling and paid the price
Young men, old beyond their years
Damaged minds in ravaged bodies
Witness to the horrors
Victim of the daily struggle
Stiffened with age and unseen scars
He does not complain, we taught him well
Communities of dead from conflicts past
Stand testament to our human failure
Leaders give no deference to the fallen
Dulce et decorum est…, the oldest lie
Loved ones nurse a heavy burden
Complicit in their fervour
Hand picked like poppies of the field
Blossoms of the poor and disadvantaged
Moulded to be the nations guardians
Hailed as saviours in the morning
Old heroes slowly fade away
Discarded when the sun goes down
In the autumn of our lives
Old soldiers reminisce
Amidst the dreams of death and glory
Two minutes can seem a lifetime
In remembrance of the fallen
A fleeting memory remiss
The promise has been broken
No longer duty-bound
Honour lies bloody on the altar
A sacrificial lamb
The soldier has been abandoned
In a society that doesn’t care
GraCor © Copyright 2007
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www.theabanddonedsoldier.com
Copyright, Graham
Cordwell©2007
