ignore me for a minute...

ignore me for a minute while I laugh over the pain
ignore me hiding my tear stained sleeve in my pockets
my red rimmed eyes behind shades
my wounded heart with too many toothy grins

ignore me for a minute I said, the warmth of your care burns me so
ignore me being evasive, flinching from your concern
searing my feigned indifference like acid
making a liar of my trying too hard not to tremble lips

ignore me for a minute, just one or two, while I drown my sorrows in song
ignore me in my façade and join in my masquerade
my parade of grand illusions to cover
my dreams now bruised, battered and raw

ignore me for a minute while I gather myself
ignore me grasping for the fragmented remains
the shattered 'could-have-been's
the scattered 'use-to-be's

the things that made
nevermind
just ignore me...

....so soon?

home invasion,

too much sunlight much too early,

eyes nearly open,

vision still clouded, doubled and blurry.

pain shooting through legs

ears ringing and head sore

then it hits you, like a pro ball player swinging a 2x4

damn...

it's the morning after the night before.

you are

the dream I cling to in the waking moments, the limbo moments, the moments in between moments when reality is at it's faintest, it's thinnest, as yet undefined, as yet unadulterated by the stuff of being

...as yet perfect.

the air I breathe, the gasping breath, the rasping breath, the life giving breath tasted much more than felt, like honey to the tongue, golden sweet to the eye, like silk to the touch, rich and sultry to the skin

...like beauty unspoiled.

the earth beneath my feet, the birthing place and final rest, the foundation and fount of sustenance, more than the heady heights and the darkest depths, more than the cacophony of colour and the simplicity of still nothingness, more than words, layered and complex, more than sound, soothing the savage soul

...more than the sum of all alls.

you are

hope

There is something to be said of hope.
That inspirer of creativity,
lifter of heads and
fuel for fire in the engine of change.

There is something to be said of hope.
That uncanny shaper of fates,
transformer of hearts and
source of grace notes with which the grey and solemn march of life is beautified.

There is something to be said of hope.
That sweetener of the sourest fortune,
lens through which every silver lining is found and
ceaseless caretaker in the orchard where dreams are nurtured.

There is something to be said of hope.
In a people desperately seeking it,
in hearts whose stores have run dry
to vision grown dim by disappointment.

There is indeed something to be said.
But the better things are often known yet,
rarely spoken enough.    

...have hope

the fight

fight, because there are things in life worth it.

there are dreams that will not rest unfulfilled,

passions that cannot desist.

fight, because there are battles that must be fought,

even if lost. there is victory in the losing,

there is honour in believing.

fight, because time indeed will tell

and now is the only story we can write

and the tomorrow will always remember

fight, because there will not always be the chance

fight, because when it's time to let go,

it simply is.

sleep writing

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

pioneering paths through the uncharted unconscious

I plot wordy insurrection

overthrowing tyrannical grammatical conventions

deeply rooted inventions, created through subconscious retention

Or so I'm told....

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

the shoemaker's elves working like dwarves in a mine

but from it's the mine of my unaware mind

that they chisel out the gems I don't speak.

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

those few precious hours rest are

where I display my art

for an audience of none or

as many as my dream may hold captive

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

words woven like silken silver,

dancing in moonshine, ethereal like.

and only the faintest glimmers remain,

once the consciousness takes hold.

...in time

if in our time I could teach you one thing,
if I could speak this into the heart of your being and
sew this truth into the fabric of your self

I would this one thing impart.

in all your getting, get patience
learn to wait with forbearance
and bide time with grace.

in all your taking, take endurance
for the race is not given to the swift or
the strong but one who with tolerance for hardship
completes it all

in all your growing, grow fortitude.
see the beauty deeply rooted in anticipation,
the glories to be found in silent meditation.

more is grown under duress than in plenty
and more is to gain from contemplative stillness
than ever a flurry of activity could achieve

we are built for eternity you and I.
and thus a time for everything
and everything
in time.

famous...

...last words of a dying dream.

I lean in to catch the slightest whisper,
breathing laboured, face drained of life,
body ravaged by anxiety and disappointments looming

I see your lips move, sound visibly struggling to escape
only the finest gossamer thread of hope holding body and spirit together

panic clutches my heart as I recognise the familiar
glossing over of the eyes, focussing on the middle distance

you gather the last of your strength and beckon me close
and say,


"I'm sorry, I've found someone new"

pondering yesterdays

alas,

here we find ourselves,

toes dipped in the streams of time,

forever flowing from eternity past

into the eternal to come.

here we sit,

astride the lumbering behemoth,

named Present,

stalking the elusive Future

forging History with every ponderous step.

my friend,

a word to the wise is sufficient,

and a seed planted in season will bear fruit.

like cool water on cracked lips

and warmth of heart and hearth

is guidance to those attuned to

discernments whisper.

let tomorrow not be clumsily crafted

by ignorance

hearts turned by disillusionment

our roads paved with fear

and our streets lined with anger and it's offspring

despair

pondering yesterdays,

let us learn from where we have been

so that we may grow into the better thing

"We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid"

~ Benjamin Franklin

parting

a knot in my chest. a lump in my throat. lips pursed on the cusp of trembling and a tear on the verge of fullness.



clouds weeping like saddened angels on the day of rebellion. sky shuddering under the weight of thunderous sobs yet to be born. shards of lightening providing momentary glimpses into the sorrow.



a knot in my chest. a lump in my throat. a hole in my heart.



goodbye

pondering blues

I am blue
blue like the moodiest shades of miles,
laid heavy over the melancholy tones of holiday.

blue like purest sapphire soaked in a cloudless autumnal night.
nights, blackened navy, untainted by celestial jewels.
I am blue.

this blueness, drawn from deeper wells of being,
not like the violent reds of anger, demanding attention
or radiant yellows of bliss, glowing for the benefit of many

it is an introspective blue, a contemplative hue, simple and understated,
I am blue.