I rarely ever listen to or pay any real attention to lyrics in songs, not consciously at least. I’ll find myself singing them later, so at least some part of my brain does, but in the moment I’m focusing on how they fit into the song. The melody, the rhythm, the harmonies behind it, the place each have in the mix. One big soundscape.

It’s why I listen to a fair amount of non-English language songs, largely J-rock or J-pop, with a smattering of other European countries. On the other hand, it’s also why I’ve long struggled to write lyrics to any songs I’ve written. I can hear the cadence in my head, beat it out on the desk, but any time I put pen to paper it just feels hollow. Devoid of meaning, just words for the sake of words.

On the other side, there was poetry. That I could do.

One of the reasons I keep some kind of notebook with me at all times is I’ll get just snippets pop up in my head. Two or three lines of rhymes or feelings, a snippet of dialogue, a direction in which to go. Every now and then I’d review them, see which ones still have a place in my brain, and try and flesh it out.

And I was kind of okay at it. Put some online, got some praise. In particular a war one I wrote around Remembrance Day that I can neither find nor remember. I’d do open mic nights locally and not totally bomb, which is a solid minimum result. Then I just kind of stopped.

One of the things I’ve been trying to do a lot more recently is avoid over intellectualising things; change course from treating everything like it’s a deep intellectual puzzle that needs analysis and just see if the surface diagnosis fits. In this case, it is that simple: the open mic night closed, so I fell out of that routine, depression and neurodivergence did their work on distracting me from it, and I never allowed myself to go deep in process. It didn’t worm its way into my core.

And I was alone. Not truly, I had friends, I have family, but on this I was alone. I had no friends trying to do the same thing, no mentor I could learn from, and I didn’t have the social skills to try and make one. I was ‘on the breadline’ poor, so taking classes was out of the question, and while there were libraries and books, I had no idea what I was looking for, especially as I was so wrapped up in my perfectionist ‘I can do all the things if I try’ mindset.

But times change and so do I. I may not be surrounded still by poets and artists, but I can change that, even if it’s digital interactions over physical in the short term. I can lean back into my curiosity, expand myself out there again. I’ve got my Zettelkasten ready to accept snippets to flick through, and collect snippets from poetry that resonates with me. And I’ve got a much better selection of research tools than I did 15 years ago, not to mention a much better understanding of my self, how I tick, and how to get around my shortcomings.

I need to finish the three books I currently have on the go, but after that, I’ll be buying/adding A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver and How to Write One Song by Jeff Tweedy as a starting point. Then we’ll go from there.