Categories
Poetry

Energy

Energy speaks

truer

than words.

Categories
Life

Heart Broken

My skin is peeled, once more, and I am flesh on open bone.

Why is it that darkness must be, in order for light to be known?

Why is loss needed to highlight the beauty of having had?

Why is betrayal needed to highlight the beauty of loyalty?

It hurts.

Always, it hurts.

Will it ever stop hurting?

How, says a universe of contrasts, will the world continue to spin without its opposite end?

My skin is peeled like lemon, like sugar sweet.

My skin is peeled for aching humanity.

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Categories
Poetry

A Poet

Of all the labels I reject

a poet’

is the one golden cage

ringing true to my soul.

It holds my heart,

this stamp that tells me-

not who I am,

but what I do in the world

and how these depths consume me.

And though a label

is but a boundary with imaginary walls

in a universe unending,

a poet

I am

in words

and heart.

A poet I am,

I am.

Categories
Poetry

Asking Questions

It is not the darkness

of others

I fear.

It is my own

crimson need

to mould the world

into a shape

that cannot possibly exist,

or remain.

Perfection is rigid,

solid,

stiff.

Life

is the ever flowing river

of everything,

everyone,

every way.

Broken?

Unbroken?

Right?

Wrong?

There is nothing

but life asking questions.

And answering them

as it will.

Categories
Poetry

The Path Of The Righteous

How hard we strive

to maintain the path of the righteous.

And yet

someone, somewhere

aches on the flip side

of right.

So, what is right?

There is only

bitter sweet

existence.

Categories
Poetry

The Sun, The Moon, The Mind

There is no day.

There is the rise and fall of the sun.

There is the opening and closing of eyes.

But there is no day.

Only a rolling eternity

split by the sun

and the moon,

and the mind.

Categories
Life

Time Is An Abstract Concept

I’m a bit of a nerd If you’d like to give that particular invisible stream of ‘me-ness’ a name.

My brain works in weird and wonderful ways (like all of our brains do). Perhaps, though, I glorify the magnificence of the human condition a little more than most— I can admit to that much.

I’ve never really understood why humans aren’t more fascinated by the wonder that is these truly magnificent bodies we’re built into.

How they can break, and heal, as if by magic.

How they can mix ingredients (male and female) to induce a process of growth and birth so miraculous it’s incomprehensible how any human has actually existed, ever.

How the light in my eyes can tell you how in love with you I really am, and how my words do not have to tell you a thing about the way that particular love feels inside of my body.

Anyway, I know:

I’m a bit of a nerd.

But don’t you guys think it is ALL so TRULY AMAZING?

I sure do, and that’s just the human body parts of it all.

I’ve just read a blog post that made me dig a little into the way I feel about all this human-ness at a deeper level, particularly the way I feel about the ‘invisible’ things of life.

Time.

The internet.

Love (or any emotion, really).

It all lives in the sea of nothing and everything, doesn’t it?

Energy. Nothing and everything.

My Dad always used to throw out this line—and laugh at his own hilarity, actually, as I often laugh at my own. I completely blame him. For that, and for my large selection of ‘funny but not really funny’ jokes.

Anyway, the line he used to toss out there was ‘time is an abstract concept.’

At the time (ha ha ha :P) —I was somewhere between eight and thirteen, I’d imagine— I looked at him, eyebrow raised. What on earth was he going on about? Time wasn’t abstract. Time was clearly time.

Part of me agrees still, that time is a very real thing.

There is a clock up there. Today is Saturday.

But is there really ‘time’ because there is a clock up there?

And is it really Saturday, guys?

And am I, indeed, ‘a nerd’? (Wink)

I’ll be back tomorrow with some more waffling, I think.

It’s time for me to ‘move’ somewhere new.

Again. xx

person in black jacket walking on snow covered pathway between trees
Photo by Domen Mirtič Dolenec on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

Something’s Coming

Something is coming

that will make us smile.

It’s easy to forget, isn’t it—

that smiles always come back around again,

even when we think they’re gone for good.

It’s okay to forget.

The universe will always remind us, someway, somehow.

Like now, for instance.

Here we are, remembering together:

Something’s coming.

Something has always been coming.

Hasn’t it?

backlit blur close up dawn
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

Once Upon A Lifetime Past

I couldn’t tell you how old I was. Seven or eight, maybe. However old I was, though, I was old enough to know what I believed. And what I absolutely did not believe was that my Mum had been killed by Jack the Ripper in a past life, like her meditation session had seemingly ‘revealed’. Ridiculous. Impossible. Absurd.

But I’ll get back to Jack a little later, shall I?

First: some background.

As I’ve mentioned in some of my earlier posts, I was a highly sensitive child. A soft little muffin, and a deep one at that. But what I also seemed to be was an ‘old soul’, and none of the adults in my life ever were quite able to explain how that part of me came about.

The ‘old soul-ness’ kept popping up all the way through my teenage years and manifested in all sorts of different ways. Perhaps one of the most profound came in the form of a monologue I performed in the year eleven drama class play. It was the science teacher who mentioned it. He said—in fact, his whole entire body said— it was surely impossible for a sixteen-year-old to really know the feeling of ‘glass grinding in my spirit.’

‘How did you know?’ he asked, his eyes far more serious now than they had been when he explained to me that a Bunsen burner works best when it’s actually switched on.

‘Umm. I’m not sure,’ I said, slightly alarmed by the intensity of his usually playful eyes. It was an odd thing, I agreed, and honestly, I didn’t know where the depth of my performance had come from. But after seeing those eyes of his change so drastically…part of me wondered.

And part of me has wondered ever since.

So let’s get back to Jack then, shall we, and how he very rudely slaughtered my Mother once upon a lifetime’s past. Because it sounds bloody ridiculous, doesn’t it? Sounds impossible and absolutely, entirely absurd.

Well…yes. It does.

But I have to tell you, I’m not so sure anymore. As a matter of fact, I have been very seriously rethinking the nature of just about everything in this old universe of ours. And I’m thinking, now, that maybe—just very slightly maybe—my Mum might have been right about Jack.

What if the unexplainable really could be explained by remembering further back in time? What if the uncanny childhood wisdom that so many young children seem to possess, actually does come from someplace they have actually been before? Like…another life, perhaps?

Now wouldn’t that be something else.

adult air art female
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Categories
Life

Tell It To The Sky

When I find myself in times of trouble,

I look to the sky

and I say:

‘Stop. Thank you. I’ve got this.’

Then I smile

as I realise that what I’ve said

is actually quite true.