Choosing to honour

Don't honour the famous and wealthy grey-haired film stars and businessmen

they are too comfortable and aren't struggling

they don't need honouring, they have found success and comfort.

We need to honour those who are living with struggles greater than themselves

and who do so without complaint.

I honour the single mother trying to make it to the end of the month

with five dollars in her pocket, working double shifts,

trying to feed her babies.

I honour the refugees whose homeland has been blown to pieces

Who have no choice but to leave behind their whole world and have to start their lives over.

I honour the army veterans who returned home broken people, used up by the army

unable to readjust, with trauma

limping through their lives, marching onto

oblivion without thanks or acknowledgement of their sacrifices.

I honour the bereaved parent who has suffered through the unnatural act of burying their child

or children.

The mother's and father's of adult children torn away at their prime, adolescents who show so much promise, children, newborns or those who never knew anything but the womb.

God only knows how they continue to breathe even though they have lost their best parts.

I honour the creative who keeps creating for the love of it.

For every artist who succeeds, hundreds will never be appreciated, published, seen or listened to.

For every criticism, self-sabotage may there be many who breakthrough

and lift every other artist.

I honour the sons and daughters who care for infirm parents.

Just as they were cared for, now the old become children again.

That they may have the same patience and love that every good mother is blessed with.

For every survivor, whose broken heart keeps beating.

Anyone who has a soul weighed down with trauma.

I honour their strength and pray for forgiveness while shifting the burden of their memories.

I honour abandoned children and those who help them to learn to trust again.

I honour the queer and gender-fluid, whoever have suffered through hate, self-loathing and toxic relationships

All lost souls who have been treated without dignity or as outcasts.

To all who have found love and acceptance despite everything, they have been through.

Those who have survived violence, illness and alienation.

Above all, I honour those who have not survived.

I remember you, I see you, I feel you in my heart.

Love overcomes adversity because love is love is love.

Who do you honour?

Self-inflicted

Everything creative is filled with self-inflicted torture and doubt.

We do it because once it's done there is something which exists beyond ourselves.

Creativity speaks to everyone at the same time.

A universal language connecting everyone to one another.

To remind us we all essentially go through the same struggles.

Soul mate

The truth is I am very lonely,

lost and confused.

Like most people are.

When we sat and talked

with openness and honesty

I felt lifted up by you

and so unbelievably attracted.

It wasn’t a simple physical attraction

I’ve felt that before, that little flash

of fantasy that flickers momentarily on the mind.

Or could it be just that?

You are so handsome and charming.

I have never felt so comfortable

with anyone else in my life.

Was it just me or where we

totally in sync?

Practically finishing off

each other’s sentences.

When I’m in your company

I want to tell you everything

and I want to hear everything from you.

I care so deeply, it hurts.

I don’t need you,

but I want to be always in your company.

It is never enough.

I think you are my best friend, confidant

and dare I say it …

soul mate.

A mirror to show me everything,

 awaken me from my sleep,

reveal a layer of myself back to me

and then slip away.

Talking to myself

I prefer talking to myself rather than talking about other people.

It's nice to see others doing well, but the rest of someone's life is none of my business.

Gossip is the home of people who do too little and criticise too much.

That little green-eyed monster

filled with venomous envy

 leave it in its own poison.

It's best to avoid talking about others.

I converse with myself, pen and paper or fingers and keyboard

a tête-à-tête with lense and aperture or paint and brush.

An opinion expressed to the full is the most fulfilling 

element to life, 

completing thoughts that steadily tick over in the mind

these are the things that interest me.

Deceptively Delicate

Poetry is deceptively delicate

it's a whisper which gradually becomes a scream

a dream turning into a nightmare

which stays with you all-day

a compliment transformed into an insult

subtle niceties and manners on the

surface while being sarcastic and real below.

It is the truth, leaking out

of the heart despite itself.

The beat of a constant drum

below the flourishes of what we

create for ourselves.

Subversive, not submissive

honest razor-sharp observation

its words are strength,

they can be deadly.

Thank the muse for bringing the light

of poetry, into a tenebrous world.

I see

I see right through you

and into your wild madness

like a transparent teardrop

a bubble that bursts and dissipates

trickling down my leg

and into the ground

drying up in the sun

an anticlimax, all but forgotten.

Nightmare

I dreamt of two thick red devils

with grotesque heads

who were at the edge of hell

one was eating a baby

the others throbbing penis

dragging on the ground

they were babbling to one another

I knew I was in hell

I was so sad

I did not know what to do

I was being tortured for my sins.

Still here

Love is still here for you

as I light a candle

in front

of your photo

I remember how your grandson and I

smothered you with hugs and kisses

the last time we said goodbye

Our love for you remains

here suspended in the air

you are intertwined in these

three words.

Tangled

Sometimes I get tangled up with everyday life.

One fine, straight cotton thread becomes entwined

around my family, work, children and economic situation.

Once it was easy to thread a needle and get to work as I please

now the loop is twisted and turned upon itself around others

and then back to me.

The more I try to pull away from it the tighter it becomes.

Like those poor sea lions and marine animals caught up in plastic

fishing lines cutting into their own skin

around mouths, restricting movement until they starve to death

Could I cut myself out?

What would be left of me?

The thread is cutting off chunks of flesh

surely there won't be much of myself left

the tangle is too tight to be unthread.

Nobility

Vagrant dressed in dark rags

he walks with his dead limbs against his side,

his face shrouded by unexpressed suffering.

What woes has he seen?

To make him become this sketch of a man.

He takes off his crown and kisses the ground

no one sees him but me

no one to call him mad,

his boots heavy, shuffle upon his holy land

he walks towards the infinite sea his dark face glaring blankly

acting out a pagan salute to the gods of the earth

his rite of passage before departure.

Only one resolution

I'm not big on New Year's resolutions but this year I've decided simply to do a little more of what I've been doing so far.

I don't like resolutions, I prefer goals. I can get many little goals done during the year rather than a big, scary and impossible life-changing idea. Breaking things down into healthy daily, weekly and monthly routines is the best way to go. Keep working and making things everyday and you will see the results.

I've promised myself to do more writing, more creativity, more self care, to be more present for my family and friends.

We've just got to keep on keeping on through all the tribulations and challenges of life.

The only real resolution we all have to keep in mind is the one of simply being. All we can really do is be ourselves, be whatever we need to keep going, be the things we need for ourselves, our friends, family and the world.

So on this first month of the year, I wish for you to simply be whatever you need right now.

Love and light

Confession

I confess I am lost

without hope

free falling through life

doing enough to barely

keep breathing

is that enough?

To live with each breathe

holding onto this existence

through inhaling and exhaling

in the most basic of actions,

hoping death doesn’t come

filling the lungs with air and

expelling carbon dioxide.

It seems so little a thing to do

when a new plague

robs people of this

simple action

taking their lives

by taking away

the abililty to breathe.

Can't be silent

(for George Floyd and others)

Well I can’t keep silent anymore

I’ve got to say my peace

else it’s just going to make me sick

I have to say I love you

and I can’t see you being hurt anymore

Stop hurting my friend, can’t you see

he’s innocent.

Why do you stomp him down

with your fear?

He’s just trying to breathe,

needing to live like the rest of us

we need to live together,

why can’t you let him live?

Why do you choose to choke the life out of him?

Stop, don’t shoot, don’t hate, just breathe and think.

Choose love, choose peace and choose kindness

don’t be silent, stop this madness.

Be as a child

I want to be like a child

in awe of the world around me

generous with love and affection

accepting of change, always

growing and learning.

I want to always expect the best

and even if it doesn't happen

simply continue to hope

get back up and move through

life with a  naive energy

which keeps you moving

in a mixture of creativity,

curiosity and determination.

Children are so flexible

they are like a cup filling

and overflowing with water

A piece of magic

when the world seems dark

be like a child

live with hope

and endless faith.

I've had better days

 There have been better days than now,

felt less lost and confused

not so sad or deflated

I wish for one of those

better days

instead of smack

bang in one of the worst ones.

Nothing going right

love went to waste

efforts all worthless

and so, so far away

from everyone I love.

The hurt comes in tears

that bastard blows up in

your face,

whether you like it or not

that emotion's going to come

knock you over and make you

wish for better days

they will come, just be patient.

Endeavour

A funny thing about the heart

is that it keeps beating

even though it's broken.

Even if the pieces go missing

it still keeps you alive.

Unless it has something else wrong with it

the heartbreak won't kill you.

Even though you feel dead on the inside

it keeps ticking along.

Why? Because that's the way life is supposed to be lived

always shuffling forward.

Children are pushing the years onwards impatiently

willing the time to move more quickly,

youth makes us want to run

in a hurry to achieve something.

Other moments life make us stop

like smashing into a light pole at high speed.

We survive the car crashes life gives us,

 slowly re-habilitating ourselves,

because even though we are forced to stop at times

to catch our breath, we never can stop the moment.

It helps us this motion, keeps us putting one foot in front of the other

this gives us a future to look forward to, a past filled with memories,

a way to cope with loss, disappointment and grief.

We are humans who survive it all, growing through strength and love.

Passing on our intuition, drive and knowledge onto the universe

who takes us always onwards.

About grief

I know a little bit about grief.

It's the moment you realise

you cannot go back on your own steps

you can't make it better

or say I love you again

 see someone's face every day,

hear their laugh, trace the outline of their smile,

hold their hand or give them a hug.

When you learn what it feels like to run out of time.

No more silent pauses in conversations

seeing them across the table,

passing the salad bowl at dinner.

All of those moments you take for granted

stop in your mind,

they are gathered up in memories

and the grieving begins.

I've learnt grief isn't bad,

it's all we have, really,

for our tears are our love

which used to go out

towards those we love.

After they are gone it has nowhere to go,

so our unexpressed love

becomes our grief.

And as our passion is as undying,

as our mourning.

This will never leave

not until our dying days.

It may seem ironic

but I hope we never

stop grieving

because it keeps our

dearly departed near us.

Life doesn't stop

when someone dies,

it merely shifts

and changes into another

gear and somehow

we live with it.

Affirmations

I don’t care what other people think of me because I’m intelligent, empathetic, sensitive, creative, reflective, and worthy.

I’m willing to take up space, contribute, make something new and create worthy connections in the world.

I’m here to seek knowledge and understanding, listen and see different points of view.

I want to be a kind ear, an encouraging and reassuring voice for others.

I’m growing every day, making mistakes and stumbling along, always moving forward and looking to become a better person.

I can change my mind and opinions because life is about evolving and living this moment at its greatest potential.

Dream of Blue

I dreamt of blue

a deep dark Russian blue

I painted with my blue 

and it made me feel like 

I was swimming in the sea.

Usually, I’m frightened when I

see this deepness in the ocean

as soon as I see the change

in the underwater light

so dark as to hide the seafloor

I panic and flee back to shore

anything can be hiding in the depths.

It terrifies me.

But inside of my dark blue

I am safe, fascinated by its

possibility and swaddled

inside the murky beauty.

Two poems dedicated to opera

On Hearing Verdi’s Requiem

Fragile beauty gives way to pulsating fluctuations

enigmatic expressions of epic grief

Such is the end of an era of beauty

that surrenders to the ravages of time

To live again in each performance

trumpeted scenes of past grandeur

The bass-baritone undertone of the sinister

single beating echoes in the caves of darkness

Soprano sketching out expansive emotion

 she holds each note in the flux of heaven

Chorus connects to human consciousness

humming the grieving  reaction to a death

As the punctured skin bleeds

so too does the wounded soul sigh

and in these sighs, one hears music.

On hearing him play: An ode to musicianship

(Dedicated to T.P)

Steinway voluptuousness

poised seductively upon the stage

Spotlit footsteps disrupt the moment of admiration

pages turn to the beginning

the anticipation felt as musical inspiration is inhaled

beauteous voice exhaled

Seeing him play

beholding a dreamer’s dream

voyeuristic fantasy

he is not here

he has stolen the moment to share

with his beloved, Music

in an intimate embrace

Hearing him play

flawless interpretation boldly resonates

how could each note echo a heartbeat?

lest it is from the one heart

as familiar voice whispers

sensuous secrets to delight

each nuance fully expressed

Remembering the moment

emotions evoked

the inner pool stirred with each finger

stillness rippled by the dimensions of emotion

the body recalls

visceral performance

shaped by the hands of an artist.