Panic attack 4 am on May 21 2002.
Is there life after death? Who can tell?
but my fear that there isn’t is hell.
Will I perish? Oh dear, I hope not,
Still though, Heaven appeals not a lot.
Will my spirit survive? Maybe so.
Will I think, feel, remember? Don’t know.
Everlasting existence I dread,
so what IS it I wish for instead?
Would regression give some kind of cure?
Do we all have past lives? I’m not sure.
No, I can’t live my life once again
though regrets might be causing me pain,
and if reincarnated, well, damn,
I then don’t really know who I am.
4 am!. Why such feelings of dread
when … Read More »
(Poetry isn’t all about hosts of golden daffodils, but can be about medical helplines too)
Friday Feb 27 2015, on a train.
A crown came out. My dentists were away.
To have it put back in, I’d gladly pay.
When on the train, I felt quite well. Sun shone.
But I then thought of calling 111.
“You’re nowhere at the moment. On a train.
But when you are in London, phone again.”
The lady should have said, I now maintain
“We cannot help you, for you’re not in pain.”
Feb 27 in London.
Calls 2 and 3 were quite absurdly long.
They couldn’t help. Oh dear, what HAD gone wrong?
Feb 27, call … Read More »
I am Peter Cox, B.A, 67 year old single man with autism only diagnosed in 2007. OCD, hoarding and anxiety issues, and three past episodes of depression, who thanks to the kind offer from CoolTan Arts in January 2016,has written regular blogs published on CoolTan’s website under the title of Peter’s Corner. I have also written in praise of CoolTan in CoolTan’s 25th anniversary online book, which is accompanied by quite a flattering photograph of me, much nicer than my passport photo in which I look decidedly grumpy.
While I had paid clerical office jobs 1973-2007, writing was a major hobby but … Read More »
Further to my poem about a panic attack over the inevitability of dying and uncertainty about whether there is life after death or not ( perhaps my autism is partly to blame for such poor tolerance of uncertainty ), I have remained in a rather “Halloween” mindset, and here are accounts of nightmares I had when young.
As I was born in 1949, you will see that I had these dreams at least 50 years ago.
OUR GRANDFATHER CLOCK ( 1961 at age 12 )
I had heard my mother, at our house in the SOUTH Birmingham suburb of Northfield, saying “Time flies!”. … Read More »