Shine

You don't always see the darkness in the world.
You don't always know where the shadows lie.
Who is struggling, who needs saving,
Whose hopes are about to die.

Life. It's not pleasant. It's not nice. It's not pretty.
What it is, though, is filled with change.
So, for those times when things aren't going so bad,
I'm going to ask you something strange.

I need you to shine my friend.
Shine bright and strong and true.
From every inch of your being,
From every ounce of you.

Shine with every colour of the rainbow.
Drive every rag of shadow from this place.
Love with every atom of your being,
If you can, wear a smile on your face.

Be the mercenary we require right now.
Help all of us who want aid in the fight.
Because all we may need when feeling down,
Is to bask in another's light.

The traveller

The traveller never went far from their heart
Except when they returned
For every time they rested
It was travel that they yearned

So they followed their heart away
Across the sky and sea
Finding rejuvenation in the waters
In each new land they'd see

It mattered not with whom they went
If they ventured out alone
Nor that they'd never see every place
For the thrill was in the unknown

And so the traveller went, and as payment for their aches and ails
They filled themself with memories, and told the world their tales

A bonus poem, written for a friend

The Arena

"You must enter the arena my child"
Said the father who had survived it all
Survived the feral without becoming wild
And stood at the end, proud and tall

"Only those tested ever get their name in a book"
He said with great aplomb and pride
Forgetting exactly how his legs fiercely shook
Before history was on his side

"It made me who I am today"
Said the man who was able-bodied and sane
Forgetting those with a greater price to pay
The cost for such a gain

"You shall look back fondly too"
If you're able to look back at all on this time
For each shoulder on which you stand
One has been crippled and one forced to crime

"I promise if - you win you live on in eternity"
But what about those with a weaker demeanour?
No one can promise with certainty
So get both sides before you enter the arena.

The family trade

In my village, nothing much ever changes
We don't like to leave and aren't open to strangers
Jobs are passed down from father to son
And have been since our village first begun

Everyone wants to be friends with the baker's son
You need to be on good terms with the house maker's son
And the distiller's son (if you ever need a comforter)
Never, never run afoul of the son of our governor

I had trouble making friends as a child
I had to be sensible and never be wild
Yet when they coughed they'd look at me often
Knowing, that one day, I'd  make  their  coffin

My father taught me how to guide an axe into a tree
The dead wood reincarnated in the assembly
Add to it 25 nails and (of course) a cross
Give it an extra polish after a wash

And voila. One size fits any soul.
To make them sturdy was my only goal
If it was good, my father would nod, put a hand on my shoulder
As we marked a potential client in pencil in our folder

We didn't know. But work gets to you in the end
There's a reason the undertaker and his son struggle for friends
But it has to be done. And so to make sure we get paid
I am simply another son taking up the family trade

inspiration - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_Mu-OJ6VKM

Make up

A brief google search tells me a box of make up can cost anywhere from a couple of pounds to an entire student loan.

The reason I have to search is because I have never bought make up before, and it occurs to me this is something I should probably know.

In a similar way to how growing long hair gave me insights into the effort and dedication that so much of the population put towards a part of the human anatomy I had previous given little to no thought to.

I suddenly realised that I had no idea exactly how much make up cost or exactly why people wear it.

Not really keen to set aside an extra 5 minutes that could be spent sleeping in a morning trying it for myself (because, after all, I love my beauty sleep), I have decided to instead spend the next 5 minutes trying to work out why in a slam.

Because I now know how much make up costs. But it's the why which I find a little bit of a bother.

...

The first time you see someone that you know well but without their make-up on tends to blow your mind a little. It informs you quickly that, regardless of what you tell yourself, a lot of how you perceive someone is tied up in their physical appearance. Maybe not for good or bad, but you do feel like you've learnt something intrinsically personal about a person. You've learned what they actually look like. And that can be a bit of a shock to the system, even if it's just because you kinda thought you already knew what they look like.

As a side note, when this happens and they go fishing for a comment do not blow it. Think in advance if you have to. 

I was very young the first time I saw a make up box. I didn't really know what it was, but TV and books had taught me well enough to know it was something for Mummies. Leave it alone. Go do something wrong that your older siblings will later get the blame for. Make up was something for girls to aspire to.

So what were they aspiring to? The first time I ever wore make up, I was in the grip of adolescent hormones. I was performing in a play as an emo, and was told to wear make up to go with the role. Naturally, I hesitated, but went forward with it. After all, this would help me get into the role. This would help me change into someone else.

I think you might see what I'm getting at.

I did learn something else though - make up is very hard to do. It was a massive shock to the system to learn that I sucked at using eyeliner. I mean, I'd done Art. I'd drawn things before, and one or two pieces I'd drawn quite well. Never the pieces my parents put on the fridge of course, but I thought I was quite good at drawing. Turns out it's very different when the canvas is your face.

It turns out it takes a lot of time to work out how to correctly and precisely block sunlight from touching your skin.

It turns out, that those people who paint their face in make up often, are very good artists. It is said it take 10,000 hours to properly master something. And I realised I knew a lot of people who must have spent at least that long sat cultivating their own reflection.

---

My parents were more Beatles than Bowie, and so only when older did I appreciate that it's fully possible for people to use make up to carve out identities, to become fantastical creatures, to add their own signature touch to how the World perceives them. For some people, their skin is paper and they lovingly paint masterpieces.

In the same way coloured hair and tattoos are expressions of utmost individuality, so too can you say of make up. Indulge in those brushstrokes, adore the palette, savour every shade. 

A lot of what I love in culture is tied up in image, and for better or worse make up will always be a big part of that.

So why does it still make me a bit uncomfortable? What was this cringing feeling I still sometimes feel?

I think (and I'm sure years and actions will change me somewhat) I think, the issue I have, is how people paint themselves to look like an unblemished canvas. How they feel they need to. I have strong memories of one girl who would come in to school everyday, and she was the only one I ever noticed her make up, because it was so thick on her skin it showed up even to such unobservant and untrained eyes as mine.

I kinda always wanted to mention it. To ask. But I never knew what my question would be.

It's not wrong to need confidence once in a while. To have a little boost to your ego. To walk a little taller from the ground. But when those heels become all you ever go out in, I do wonder what it's like to go home and see yourself at you-level again. Or how you feel around others, wondering whether they'll accept you as you are yet.

It is worth saying at this point that my view of whether I think make up is attractive is irrelevant
to these thoughts, or, at least, I'm trying to make it so. But it was strange for me to realise how routine it was.

All we ever see on TV are unblemished beings. We rarely see spots and scars. We see our idols - our heroes in sport and song and dance and art. And while we spend many hours trying to replicate their physique, many hours perfecting how people hear us, many hours in the mirror correcting our movements, it is those hours we spend with a paintbrush in hand - the shortcut to the image of our idols - that I find the most scary.

I'm a little scared that I'm going to have performed this and be told I got things entirely wrong. And I'm prepared for that to be true. But I just want to end this with a different message. And it is for you.

Do, whatever makes you feel best. Make yourself feel comfortable. Make yourself feel beautiful. Paint yourself up a treat. Change your face a thousand times for each sunset that graces your image. Become a living deity, shine like the stars, absorb the fullness of whatever it is you are trying to be.

I just want to say this. To everyone.

Whatever is underneath all that

Whatever is the sum of weathering and genetics that at the end of the day has formed who you are

When you wipe your make up off

And you look in the mirror

I hope you realise that

The image you see looks kinda good

And that that image

Is you

And that the you underneath, is something people love about you.