The Interrogation

The Interrogation

Out in the dark,

Behind enemy lines,

Foraging for food,

Barren, lifeless, and cold

The signs of defeat flash round,

Step out into open space,

The enemy force,

Bound and gagged,

Sitting in the stress position,

Remember to be the grey man,

The interrogation begins,

Name, rank and number!

Name, rank and number!

Name, rank and number!

Sizing up the quizmaster,

I make my escape,

The interrogation reaches its end,

Beaten and hopeful I pleased my captors,

We wait...

Explanation

This one uses the analogy of a soldier captured behind enemy lines and interrogated after being tortured to express the feelings of having to go for an "assessment" with a mental health professional (e.g. a psychology appointment), especially where the person who is having something like anxiety or depression (anything I write that involves mental health is more neurosis, than psychosis) has been here many times before and knows the drill, but has to go through it because it's what's done.

Out in the dark,
Behind enemy lines,

This represents the sense of succumbing to the illness. It's a dark, lonely place and not where any one wants to be.

Foraging for food,
Barren, lifeless, and cold,

The soldier would be searching for food, but finding nothing and getting really concerned at the lack of available nourishment. This matches the idea that the person suffering from ill health might already be trying to seek some avenues of help, but not really finding anything and becoming even more desperate. Trying to navigate ones way through a complex health service when ill is incredibly difficult and demoralising.

The signs of defeat flash round, 
Step out into open ground,

The signs of defeat in the soldiers case are the realisation that he is going to have to give himself up, because although he may be treated badly, there may also be the opportunity for food, water, warmth. To do this, he must step out onto open ground, in full view of the hunter force. In the case of the "sufferer", it's realising that more intensive help is now required and you have to make that oh so difficult walk along to the Dr's/health centre/emergency room and say those horrible words of "I need help" which feel like defeat is being admitted. The "flash around" part in the case of the soldier is the torches/gun lasers being projected onto him. In the case of the patient's, it's probably more like flashbacks to the previous experience of illness.

The enemy force,
Bound and gagged

This refers to the capture taking place. The soldier is bound and gagged, the patient feels trapped, and in this case, the mouth gagged refers to the horrible sensation of a tight throat due to nerves.

Sitting in the stress position,
Remember to be the grey man,

Sitting in the stress position, is of course in the soldier's case being held in the stress position, which is a method used in torture which leads to intense muscular pain. For the patient, it is the Dr's/health centre's waiting room, which are usually pretty depressing places! Being the grey man....for the military scenario, it is a tip often given to special forces soldiers in the event they're captured, which is basically not to draw attention to themselves, by being neither too quiet or too raucous. For the patient, it's basically keeping yourself to yourself, especially if there are several people in the waiting room. Ultimately, none of them wants to be there and doesn't want to be the one to make it obvious they're the one who's gone over to the dark side.

The interrogation begins,
Name, rank and number!

So, the interrogation begins! Under the Geneva convention for the treatment of prisoners of war, a prisoner is only required to give his/her name, rank and number. This could be repeated many times over, especially as the captured may choose to say nothing. In the case of the patient, it refers to the barrage of questions which he/she has been asked many times and the situation is all too familiar. It's not that they don't appreciate and understand that this is what needs to be done, but there's only so many times someone can be asked "and are you feeling suicidal at the moment" before thinking "Well no, but having to answer this question 50 times kinda doesn't help with the feelings of not wanting to!"

Name, rank and number!
Name, rank and number!

The same old same old questions continue. Maybe a CD could be given to them before hand which began with "Hi there Mr/Mrs practitioner......So I know what questions you're gonna ask me already....here are the answers you need. I've gone to make a cup of tea and will be back in an hour." Just a thought.

Sizing up the quizmaster,
I make my escape,

This is where the patient will also be assessing the mental health professional who's asking the questions. Do they seem to get me? Are there misinterpreting things? Do they seem to be making an effort? Are they in the right job?. The "making escape" part actually isn't about escaping from the session or anything like that but in case, the patient using avoidance techniques to steer clear, or skirt around the edges of the very sensitive topics, which although need to be dealt with, are often very hard to talk about. So, things like changing the subject, asking about their family (that one works wonders!) are all techniques. Best to avoid doing that.

The interrogation reaches its end,
Beaten and hopeful I pleased my captors,

So, the interrogation is over. It's been challenging, upsetting. There is a sense though of "I hope this person has got it, because it feels like my chance to be content in life, lies in a large part with how they do their write up".

We wait...

And that's all the patient can do really. Wait, hope, try to keep treading water.

The Sniper's Shot

The Sniper's Shot

Zero six hundred,

The brief comes in,

The target located,

The light is green,

Sighting your scope,

Checking spare ammo,

The hard routine begins,

A five klick tab,

Settling into position,

Amidst the undergrowth,

Caressing the dials,

Forefinger is primed,

Target down,

Now hold your fire,

A gentle click,

Change of magazine,

Mission complete,

Return to base,

Briefing room projection,

Assess the results,

Kit cleaned and packed away,

Ready for the next call.

Explanation

OK, so this one is actually about a photographer going out to take photographs, using the analogy of a military sniper undertaking a mission and drawing parallels between the two.

Zero six hundred,
The brief comes in,

This is when the photographer will decide the best time to go out and take the pictures. Perhaps considering what time dusk might be, or when there might be the most/least traffic. Looking at maps, using Street View, looking at other photographs - all similar to how a military briefing might occur to disseminate the intelligence gathered.

The target located,
The light is green,

OK, so they know what they want to photograph, and possibly under what considerations. It's time to set off.

Sighting your scope,
Checking spare ammo,

This is an analogy of a special forces sniper checking all their kit before embarking upon their mission and comparing it with a photographer checking they have all theirs. Tripod, lenses, spare battery, memory card.

The hard routine begins,
A five klick tab,

A hard routine in military terms is where a small patrol of special forces, for example the SAS will create a hideout and stay there for a long time assessing the situation, deciding when best to "go noisy". A klick is slang for a kilometer, and tab is a British Army acronym for "Tactical Advance to Battle". So this really just suggests there may be a walk to get to the best vantage point and setting.

Settling into position,
Amidst the undergrowth,

Again, this draws comparisons between a sniper getting himself set up in an inconspicuous position and a photographer trying to get just the right spot and holding themselves in a rigid position if not using a tripod.

Caressing the dials,
Forefinger is primed,

This is how a sniper would delicately manipulate the settings on his sighting scope, and refers this back to a photographer selecting the options on the camera for things such as shutter speed, aperture and so on. The forefinger is of course in the snipers case what rests on the trigger ready to release the bullet. In the photographer's case, it's the "take photo" button.

Target down,
Now hold your fire,

The photo has been taken/subject shot. The sniper would not move, just keep still for a moment, as would the photographer, just to let that extra split second take place so there is no jerk in the camera.

A gentle click,
Change of magazine,

The gentle click is the release (depending on which camera) of the battery release button to insert a new battery (although if their battery only last one photo, they should really consider purchasing a new camera!). In the sniper's case, they may have to change magazines to put in a new bullet.

Mission complete,
Return to base,

OK, so photographs are taken, nasty terrorists are shot, it's time to return to base/home.

Briefing room projection,
Assess the results,

Here comes the fun part! Have any of your photos actually come out, or is it a cacophony or blurry lights? In the sniper's case, it's reviewing any footage there might be, or listening to intelligence to find out whether the shot was a success.

Kit cleaned and packed away,
Ready for the next call.

The guns, the lenses, the camera are all cleaned and ready for their next outing.

The Names.....

The names.....

Crowd surfing upon statues bronzed,

The double O's head to 85,

License to watch TV,

License to kill,

Through the whooshers,

And a wink to Mike,

Call over to our northern cousins,

And our friends across the pond,

In the queue for my toys,

The sword and shield,

Boarding Warwick's finest,

To ride the Valkyries,

Londinium beneath my feet

Unbeknownst oh fellow citizens,

Returning to 17F.
I'm neither shaken nor stirred.

Explanation

This one is about my romantic view of what it means to be and what it's like to be a spy, mixed in with a little bit of what we're lead to believe it's like - when it most likely isn't.

Crowd surfing upon statues bronzed,

This is in reference to Vauxhall Bridge, London. At the south end of the bridge is the headquarters of SIS/MI6. So each day, I imagine that there are many spies that walk over this bridge each on their way to work, passing many hundreds of other people who shall never know what they do. Crowd surfing just refers to being carried over, and the statues relate directly to the bridge which has bronze statues on the side of the bridge.

The double O's head to 85,

This refers to the 00 status (e.g. 007) of the best of MI6. I don't know (and doubt) there is such a system though, but it's what we're shown. The 85 refers to the street number the building is on. It's 85 Albert Embankment. Although don't bother writing to this address. If you want to write to MI6, you want "PO Box 1300, London SE1 1BD" according to their website.

License to kill,

License to watch TV,

Whilst of course having a license to kill (in fact, as far as I know, there isn't a license to kill), there is a license to watch TV that everyone in the UK who wants to watch TV needs to have. Presumably this includes spies? Oh and there is a 50% discount if you're blind (no, I am not kidding.)

Through the whooshers,

Yes, I have watched "Spooks" far too many times, but this refers to the little entry pods that let people into the building. I imagine walking through these and in my romantic view, they would be colloquially known as the "whooshers" for the onomatopoeic sound they make as they open and shut. 

And a wink to Mike,

Mike actually would be a woman. Mike = M in the phonetic alphabet. "M" is of course James Bond's boss. I like to think that M is real.

Call over to our northern cousins,

And our friends across the pond,

When I think about those who are spies, I actually don't think too much about the specifics of the work they're doing, it's more the culture of who they are and the type of people they have become. This bit briefly suggests that some of their duties would include calling over to MI5 (across the river on the north side) and of course our US friends across the pond to find out what their latest intel is.

In the queue for my toys,

Queue = Q. The character in James Bond who has the cool gadgets that Bond goes to visit to get all the cool stuff.

The sword-and-shield,

I can imagine a mission given to the spy who is tasked with breaking into the Russian embassy to steal vital info. The sword and the shield have two meanings. Firstly it's some "toys" given by Q. But the main reference here is that "the sword-and-shield" was the emblem for the the KGB when it was known as that (I think it's FSB now)

Boarding Warwick's finest,

Every good James Bond features an Aston Martin. The headquarters for Aston Martin motors is in Warwick, UK.

To ride the Valkyries,

I always imagine (especially senior) spies to be incredibly intelligent people and very well cultured. People who seem to know everything, probably went to an exclusive school, then onto Oxford or Cambridge to study history and philosophy or something. In my romantic view of them, they're regularly dressing up smartly to go and see an opera, probably a performance of one of Wagner's compositions, such as Ride of the Valkyries.

Londinium beneath my feet

Unbeknownst to my fellow citizens,

So after going to the opera, our James Bond style spy decides to make his way home on a typical drizzly English evening. Walking through the streets, all those people he passes have no idea to his true identity and the fact they are more protected because of his/my work.

Returning to 17F,

I really like the idea of a spy who actually works at MI6 living in flat number 17F. This would be so cool. The reason is that the creator of the James Bond novels, Ian Fleming was actually in naval intelligence. 17F was his codename.

I'm neither shaken nor stirred.

Obviously had to have this in. "Shaken not stirred" is how 007 prefers his martini's. But his demeanour in all he does it to be cool, calm and collected.

This Time in Four Years

This Time in Four Years

This time in four years,

Gold on my chest hairs

Training and training,

Running and running,

Tactics, nutrition,

Psychology, competition,

The arena erupts,

Flash bulbs galore,

On your marks,

.......BANG!

Eyes forward,

Run, run, run,

Baton in hand,

Sweat drips down,

Hand on the horizon,

Opening to receive,

Oh no,

Oh no,

I dropped it,

What's happened?

Four years,

Gone in a moment,

The eyes of a nation,

I've let down,

The gold,

It must be mine,

Training must start,

I can't do it all,

But, I will,

This time in four years....

Explanation

This is a bit of a depressing one....well maybe it isn't actually. It'll depend how you take it. I think just as much as it might be depressing, it could equally be seen as strength through determination. With the Olympics   on the mind this summer (by summer I mean 6 months where it's rained a lot), this poem uses the analogy of an athlete who has trained and trained for the past four years, determined to win a gold, but during the final of the relay, he drops the baton. The analogy represents the battles with mental health that many experience, each time that they have a bad spell.

This time in four years,

Gold on my chest hairs

Often people who have had to climb back up again will have told themselves and those to close to them that they'll be much better and well by [insert time period of choice]

Training and training,

Running and running,

There is often a lot of practicing and training involved. Whether that be going to see the Dr, taking medication, seeing a psychologist, all sorts.

Tactics, nutrition,

Psychology, competition,

A continuation of the above

The arena erupts,

Flash bulbs galore,

You've made it to an acceptable place. Perhaps not exactly where you want to be, but you're considered to be "well" - whatever that means. Certainly you're having many more moments of joy and surreal, fun experiences.

On your marks,

.......BANG!

You're still doing well. Plenty of things you want to be doing with your life. More smiles than frowns.

Eyes forward,

Run, run, run,

You know what you're doing....well pretty much.

Baton in hand,

Sweat drips down,

Yes, it is very hard, but it's being done and you're floating, sometimes even swimming.

Hand on the horizon,

Opening to receive,

You're starting to think that you're finally moving on. The demons are being well and truly exorcised.

Oh no,

Oh no,

But no....yet again, it's all going horribly wrong. You're sinking, you know what's coming and you know how scary that is, yet even once you've sunk, it somehow manages to be more scary than you remember, and it's not as if you remember it fondly.

I dropped it,

What's happened?

There's often a degree of "dumbfoundment" about what's happened. The one thing that you do know, however much you wish you were wrong is that it's all falling to pieces and your quality of life has become very poor.

Four years,

Gone in a moment,

All the effort you've had to put in....it feels a waste. Perhaps even wondering whether you should've just called it quits and given up the time before. The speed with which it's all happened is staggering. How can you have gone from the premier league, to the little league in such a short space of time?

The eyes of a nation,

I've let down,

You look at yourself, your loved ones look at you. "Did I miss the warning signs? Did I make a mistake? Did I take on too much? I'm so much of a failure. I've let myself and everyone down. I am such a waste of human life." These are all the thoughts running around with great speed and strength around your head. You feel as if they have become you.

The gold,

It must be mine,

You yearn for what shoulda, coulda, woulda. There's a determination to get well, coupled with a feeling that it's all over. Delusions about your identity are rife. There is also a degree of denial too, especially when one begins to compare ourselves to those who we believe have it all, and think that's the gold standard which we either have or it's all horrible, forgetting that there may be a way to make silver feel like gold through accepting limitations of the mind but finding a way to life in harmony with oneself.

Training must start,

I can't do it all,

Once again, the uphill struggle begins - because it's kind of the only option. I mean, you could kill yourself I suppose, maybe you'll even get to the point where it's what's going to happen - yet it just doesn't. That (in the moment) blasted survival instinct makes you suffer for what? You feel as if you can no longer do it any more. Your resolve has gone, you want out.

But, I will,

Yet, some more time clears and there you are once again, you're training, doing more of the stuff you should be doing, aiming for gold. Hopefully each time increasing the chances of the outcome being a positive one, but never knowing, and kind of always living in fear.

This time in four years....

I guess time will tell.