The mighty tree

The seed fell on unclaimed soil
Thus would begin the work and toil
The seed sprouted, began to grow
Lovely lapped up light in flow

Gathered the resources close around
Made a wide home upon the ground
Grew up tall, big wide tree
Grew up as big as it could be

It thought to itself, in a grand old voice
"How great it is, what a worthy choice
I made to work so hard, grow up so tall
These other seed don't seem to care at all"

"Amongst my mighty roots below
There lie some seeds that do not care to grow
They don't realise trees like me grew without aid!"
The seeds merely lay in the mighty tree's shade

The twilight hours

Why does everything become clear in the twilight hour?
When most brains frazzle out and streetlights gain power
As if my mind is switched in to the same system
I find my neurones connect and my ears really listen

This wouldn't be an issue, but most people work on daylight time
Like their minds and the sun can resonate as a rhyme
So I try, I really do, to pretend that I'm the same
But here I am, working in my productive hours again

Stuck late, finally able to work with little procrastination
Whereas in hours hence I was following the smallest deviations
Unable to stop my thoughts from straying to new places
Yet under the moon I see train tracks lain down in pale white laces

What do I sacrifice, by following a schedule that's not my own?
What ideas would I have developed which I have never grown?
I'm not quite sure. Yet I know if I am tasked with much stress
I will solve it if I have to, by working the time I work best

Dear future Harry. 
Don't do another D.Phil. 
Yours, Harry who is working in the lab at 9:30pm.

Bonus Prose: De-escalation

I wrote some prose on a whim in response to a writing prompt on reddit. Find it there, or see the text here. I figured it'd be nice to keep, and this blog is essentially my record of creative writing.

[WP] You’re a Superhero whose superpower is Deescalation. You fight villains by talking through their issues and helping them to make better choices.

No one sees the night before a magician's act, the beads of sweat forming as a pale faced man checks and double checks those traps and tricks that he must escape.

Nor the writing process of a comedian, as she crafts a solid fifteen minutes of material that is written and re-written to prepare for heckles and forgotten lines.

No one sees my process either. The mixture of slight premonition and person skills that lead me to plot my approach. The best of all possible approaches. With a margin for error of course.

----

I had been called to the scene that I'd seen developing on the news last night. Despite everything, I'd insisted on waiting until 10am. Any sooner could have been lethal. Any sooner, and I may not have made the interesting discovery about how things could go.

I walked slowly up to the building, an apple juice box carton in one hand and a clipboard in the other. I had the basic details of the case I had gone over a thousand times, but they'd stop believing me if they caught a glimpse of blank paper. I hated ties, but I had this one done in a scruffy knot. Smart would have worked better, but I'll take an extra half hour of prep if it means I don't have to wear the tie properly.

I walked into the door of the laboratory, turned down a narrow corridor, and took a lift to the lowest basement floor. It was the only way to give them enough time to prepare for me arrival and not shoot me out of instinct. I even pressed an extra button to stop the lift halfway and give them a small amount of extra time.

----

I actually like elevator music. Come at me.

----

*bing*

GET ON THE GROUND

"What?" I responded. "The machines are too loud!"

ON. THE GROUND.

A shady figure stood behind a control panel in the centre of the room. They were pointing a gun at me with a shaky arm, but their arm over the panel was steady. Why do you aim with a non-dominant arm? Only when the gun is your second most important weapon.

I took a swivel chair.

"You're...The Future Cometh? Don't worry, I'm not coming any closer. I'm in a swivel chair, I can't move fast in this thing. What should I call you bud?". The swivel chair thing was a lie. I prided myself on being able to clear a full room in three seconds with a good push. Maybe two.

Call me...ah, well.

"The whole name is quite long is all."

Yeah, I..uh, never expected anyone to actually have to use it to my face

"Sorry, the machines are still a bit loud. Can I move closer? Say, to this row with the plant enthusiast?"

...Sure. No closer.

"Cheers. Imma go for TFC. That ok with you? It's a good full name, but TFC is a little nicer for conversation". I stopped very slightly shy of the plant-encrusted computer, to be clear I was not pushing boundaries. This was going well. We were on a main path of events. Even better, we were on the one critical path.

TFC is nice. What do you want? I'm going to destroy this place. There's nothing you can do.

"And there's nothing I want to do, other than chat. I insisted on this. The men upstairs (and it is mostly men) wanted to send down a team with weapons. Stop you before you could destroy any of this. Your research and everyone else's.

My research? The figure cackled. It was a fine cackle. My death plans you mean. They could wipe out entire cities with what I have made.

I took a sip of my juice cartoon, gesturing at TFC to continue. I glanced at my notes a little as he spoke, trying to focus roughly near where the relevant scrawlings were for each part of the speech

I just wanted a good job. I wanted a steady income. I'm not a bad person. But before I realised what happened, they'd got me working on projects. Projects that, well...

Staying silent for thirty whole seconds was tough. I'd chosen a squeeky chair and knew what any noise now would mean.

Projects that I didn't want to be part of. Every group is slightly separate, according to the moral crimes they can commit. I found the practical testers. I don't know where they get the subjects, but they can't be volunteers. No one would volunteer to have their skin melt like that. But in their heads, the practical testers weren't the bad ones, they could never have come up with torture tools like this. And us researchers never imagined things would actually be used, or didn't imagine the purpose. That was up to the doctors who thought it was just consultant work. Some of them assumed it was for movies.

I found out. I don't know who that target is, but I know it could wipe out a city. A big one. And there would be no defence, and no warning. One day, I and everyone in our company would look up at the news, and realise what our work had done. I just realised before it happened.

"So. What now? I can see your arm is getting tired, I'm happy to move back a little if you want because you wont be able to hold the gun up much longer". I could see the figure consider it, and then put the gun down before I could move.

No. It's ok. There's nothing you can do anyway. As soon as I take my finger off this button, this building goes up and all the research with it.

"Including you?"

Including me

Two branches spread from this point. Two different paychecks, although I didn't care much for that.

"And, all the research?"

Yes..All the research.

Another pause. I counted 124 seconds in my head.

"You didn't save any research did you?"

How...Who are you?

"Doesn't matter. I'm sorry, you're right, there's nothing I can do to save you. " As the other branch closed, it became the truth. "But I don't want what you're about to do to be in vain. Not for the sake of vanity.". I had now hidden the juice box so as not to distract them. The plant foliage provided just enough camouflage if you weren't looking straight at it.

I mean. You're right. But it's at home. My son will still be there

I stood up, and started to leave. I couldn't know before talking where the other research would be hidden, but I knew who I was dealing with. Cogs started whirring in my brain. "I know you're smart. You can target the weapon to hit your house too. It's in hard files, because you knew they could track any code. So, here's what is going to happen. You're going to give me your son's phone number. I'm going to call him, and ask him to come here, saying you're in trouble at work. It's the only thing that will get him to leave without question. That will give you a five minute window to enact your plan without harming him.

...why can't I make the call?

"Because you're going to need all your will to do what you need to do. You know you might ask him to save some work. He can't know anything about what you do until it's too late. And I want to be the one to let him know, before the police do.

A solid minute's pause.

alright

---

After some negotiation about small details, including a pre-recorded message saying goodbye, I walked into the lift and left the place. I felt filthy. I told the CEOs that this was just one of those times when I couldn't do anything. They do happen from time to time. I said coldly that they'd be fine though, that it was a non-threat. No reason to leave the building perimeter. They died 27 minutes later. I played the goodbye message in a local coffee shop to the son, and held him in one arm.

I came across an escape sequence where no one died in my first half hour of preparation. I'd found five more by the end of the second hour. But some of the strings had seemed odd to me. I'd dug in, and realised what the company was, and what I was stopping. I had mapped out this particular thread in its entirety by the early morning hours.

You can't de-escalate everything forever. Sometimes, you have to let the tension go. I just get to choose where it goes boom.

Fishbowl

Focus on a subject, a fish in a bowl
Swimming forever towards no goal
He circled so much but never felt faint
Felt the pull of fate but life has a dark taint

Light tinted through the glass of his home
Doesn't think he could persevere alone
There's water in this world so he keeps on swimming
Trying to be satisfied with the life that he's living

The glass could be thick or could break with little force
He didn't want to live on this default course
An urge to explore has felled many folk before
The idea of danger can't diminish a desire in the core

Building up inside, one day he took the plunge
Bawled up his rage and struck forth with a lunge
Chaos. The world turned, and lifted whole
He swum to his freedom through a self-made hole

Turns out after all this pain and commotion
His fishbowl was just a cage in the ocean

Song I wrote this to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHnjQvHlweE

Strength in Surrender

The war was reaching it's final days
Many bodies strewn in a fragile display
Of nobility, giving your soul to a cause
This once green field the sight of many proud wars

The regretful climax of what had been a very fine battle
Saw the leader of each side, draped in chained metal
Face off as the natural end to events that had come before
The two people that all the armies had fought bravely for

But one had been dealt a critical blow to his exterior
Sacrificing his right shoulder to protect an inferior
Shamefully, he did not attempt to strike his foe's shield
But bowed his head in shameful surrender to say "I yield"

...

I read the historian's words, but couldn't shake the connotation
Of his brutal assessment of a tough situation
And the common assumption that surrender is weak
That to say "I yield" is an easy phase to speak

We face our own battles, we will not win every one
The hardest fight to give up is the one you have begun
But we all start more challenges than we can complete
They can be tough to submit, especially if there is a cost to defeat

But often I've found myself giving resources to an unwinnable war
Because I feel surrender is weak, and that's the only thing I know it for
So, this is me telling you, surrender is sometimes strength
So you can focus on what you can win, even at length

Ask for help when you need it, don't die for your pride
When you only have a few goals you can take them in stride
We only have some much of ourselves we can give to overcome
Yield what you can't complete, and emerge as someone strong

Poem catcher

Build me a poem catcher
Out of stanzas and string

Let me snag inspiration
Out of simply nothing

Swish swish through the air
Bring down a fresh verse

Maybe I'll catch some bad ones
Maybe I'll give up and curse

But if I swipe enough times
With enough perseverance

I'll catch the starting lines
Which, with some endurance

I can unravel with care
As it battles my grasp

It may not be smooth
It may grate and rasp

But my poem catcher
If I give it enough time

Will capture raw words
I can turn into rhyme

This world is kinder

This world is often far kinder than we give it credit for

Too often, we focus on the bitterness we must endure

We often feel like we are tough to love. That might be true

But we forget about the people who love us despite the toughness they must go through

Struggle and suffering are often daily chores we must tick off with regret

We ponder over them, not ready to endure them just yet

Stop. Look at the rest of the list you have in your hand.

Did you have "make someone smile" or "show kindness" planned?

No? Me neither, most days it's all grit my teeth and continue the fight.

I don't plan these things. But often they spring forth and bathe others in light

Around the world, there's many people seizing an unplanned chance to be kind

The world is full of people of a sympathetic mind

Do not forget them. Join their cause and add one more

After all, this world is often far kinder than we give it credit for

Inspiration music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaRiaNicVU0

Nothing is stopping you

When nothing is stopping you
    You must still fight through that nothing
An empty road ahead still means you're walking towards something
Even a battle against a static punching bag
Requires you to grit up and release all the energy you had

Tasks can be difficult, with or without opposition
Realising you have to take action can be a difficult mission
That you can seize the opportunity before you
Still requires raising your hand and coordinating it too

There are many chances, but each takes some energy
Obstacle are often bigger than they were meant to be
And even if they aren't, challenges are still tough
Readying yourself for a battle when you've had enough

Do not talk yourself down for the victories you've won
Often once you've started your test, the hardest challenge is done

Long for home

Sometimes, I long for home

To the place where my heart used to roam

Still only a split second away in sound by phone

But really many miles of rock and loam

I remember this place that used to be

Preserved in my heart for eternity

(Or as long as that happens to be for me)

This collection of places and face

and fond memories and embraces

And I miss it, dearly

That feeling does not change

But slowly I come to recall

That time will have its wicked way with all

Maybe roads are repaved

Fountains and benches not saved

Maybe these feeling that I craved

Can be found afresh once more

Without travelling far - just out my door

To realise this is a place I will soon long for

Next to my old home, this new home is also in my core

Told

They tell us a lot of things when we're small
It's hard for our small heads to hold it all

We're told to behave (always)
We're told to play (sometimes)
We're told words can't affect us
Then told morality in nursery rhymes

We're told to think of ourselves
We're told not to be radical
We're told to be ourselves
But not to stand out at all

We're told our country is strong
We're told not to bully others
We're told to look after older sisters
To play rough with younger brothers

We're told to care about nature
We're told to drive cars
We're told to stand up
But not for a cause they find bizarre

We're told to make things which are new
Then told things aren't as good as they used to be
We're told so many different things
That it's getting to me

We're told well-meaning things
We're told things by those in power
We're told things will be alright
And that the world will end in an hour

I'm starting to tell myself
Those who told me much when I as small
Maybe these people
Don't know everything after all

I will not end these thoughts, dear reader
By telling you what you must do
You will have been told many things
Which advice you take, is up to you

our challenges are as unique as our gifts

our challenges are as unique as our gifts


I don't know about you, but I focus on the challenges I face
I obsess over my obstacles and the turns taken in my race
When I think of the path I've taken, I think of the doors that were locked
Where I've forced them open and where I have been blocked


our challenges are as unique as our gifts


And when I look at others, I'm often prone to jealousy
I see wonderful gifts and talents that seemed to miss me
But I also wonder about the things people struggle over
On things I did easily or if I forget how tough they were


our challenges are as unique as our gifts


We all have different scars. We've healed in different ways.
Some folk do in seconds what takes other people days.
Your heroes all had flaws but were likely bettered by the battle
You can learn from all people but beware that they are brittle


Our paths through life are our own. We live in different shifts
And remember, dear friend, all people's challenges are as unique as their gifts.

It's hard to listen

Ok, let's be real. Sometime it's hard to listen.
To glisten from a set of vibrations
From a thousand possible intonations
Which was the source's intention

And during this to keep your mind blank
Nothing as frank and distracted as the brain
To monologue shamelessly when you hear a refrain
Then fill you with anxiety when they have to repeat again

Clear your mind
Hear the words
Let clarity form

But what are words given without a reply?
You formulate inside what you want to say
To ensure the conversation steers a certain way
Onto a field you know how to play

No. Listen. Your time will come.
In fact, change that thought
Listening to others is also your time

It's your time to evolve
To incorporate a perspective
That is not your own

But not matter how much you try
Your thoughts stack high with your mission
Though it feels like it needs a magician
Know that it is tough, but worth it, to listen.

Time spent well

This poem is dedicated to time spent well
Since time is the resource we can't help but sell
Despite some of cling to it with the tightest grip
Only to find it wasted as it begins to slip

Treasure the moments you enjoy, even the ones you'll forget
Celebrate life instead of finding things to regret
Though it is folly to capture a moment that is passed
It is no bad thing to pay a small visit to the past

Dear friend. I know I enjoyed spending time with you.
And I can only hope you enjoyed the time too
We both spent time to buy a small duration together
And though time is fleeting, history lives forever

Truths are tricky, but I believe this one is clear
Time spent well leads to memories you hold dear



For Matt, a poetry friend in Christ

To know another

Here I am
I am me
I know myself
(well, mostly)
I'd like to know more

How?
By hearing tales
True, false
But all capturing
Seeing myself
Parts of myself
In the story

I began small
My mind was inelastic
I saw myself
In people like me
But me with small changes
It turns out
In media
There are a lot of people like me

Now, I expand
I want to grow more
To see myself with different histories
With different presents
With different futures
See myself as people
whose angle on the world
is different from my own

Is it guilt?
Why represent all angles?
While I started small
I can now take big strides.
I want others to be able to start small too
It is a luxury some don't have
And I will try to take big leaps to their starting steps

Together, we will travel the same path
At least a while
Until that time
When I must return to my own mind
We can share an experience
Know more of what it is to be someone else
And so
Know more of what it is to be ourselves

What's bothering me?

Dear me
What's bothered you today? What's got under your skin?
Was it worth all the effort to hold that discomfort within?
It takes energy and time to hold on to discontent
It may be hard but often worth it to relent

Cause something happens if you hold onto hate inside
If you let negativity come along for a ride
You know this man, it's not good for the brain
You've got a limit of things which you can contain


What's bothered me today? What's got under my skin?
Most of the time, man, dang, it's nothing.
I need to let go, It doesn't deserve retention
It's time to get mad at the things which deserve me attention

See, some anger is worth the effort and energy
To fix inefficiency or find inequality
And it's ok, sometimes, to rage at things which are small
As long as that rage passes, doesn't become your all


What's bothered me this week? What been under my skin all year?
That stuffs rooted deep, and it can turn into fear
Things I can't affect? I need to accept them
So that I can turn my head to the exception

Those things which can only change given a long fight
And even these things shouldn't keep me up at night
But those tasks which only change with much time and energy?
I've found these are the things which it's worth letting bother me.

So, what new thing bothered me today and got under my skin?
It's time to decide. Let it go. Or begin the fight within.

Wordweaver

What is reality?
What is everything before you and me?
People much smarter than I have a theory
That this world before your eyes is only what you see
That everything before you here
Is just what you touch, taste and hear

Reality is filtered through your (yes your) brain
Meaning reality relies on you being somewhat sane
So if the brain in its membrane began to change
Then reality itself would cease to be the same

This world which we observe with our perception
Is only as good as our internal cognition
If I were careful I could give persuasion
And you'd give the world a different description

With just words, I could change reality
Such power usually only lies in fantasy
That all people all magicians, casting tales
Although we have to believe them or the magic will fail

But if the external is really beholden to the mind
Then think of the power a wordweaver could find
And if what I've said, if even an ounce of it seems true
The realise the power that must rest in you

The honour of the struggle

There is honour in the struggle
Of looking the world in the eye and saying
No

No I don't think I will give up just yet
Because I'm more than you think
More than what you're putting me through
I am the things I will do once I emerge

No one struggles without hope
One who is already beaten will lay still
You, fellow struggler, are not beaten
They have not got you yet

You will not win every battle
And some conflicts are not worth getting in to

But for those times, when life insists
That you must not resist
Then, my friend
There is honour in the struggle

Some poems I've had as drafts for a long time. This was a pretty much only a title back from 2014 when I did themed months. It's very different to how it would have turned out if I'd written it back then, curious to know how my style has changed.

Here is a truth

Here is a truth: There are many types of lie
The sinister lie, designed to gain power over another
The regretful lie, to one not ready for reality
The kind lie, to inspire hope where the teller sees none
The slight lie, the barely a lie, the lie so close to true and yet so far

Here is a truth: There is one type of lie
The lie which says that this world is not as you think
This lie is how things should be
Buy into the deception of this lie
Inhabit this fake world together

Here is a truth: There are many types of liar
The entertainer, who spins a fantastic tale
The impostor, scared of who they really are
The powerful, who weaponizes lies to maintain the status quo
The lover, who can't bring themselves to let you know how harsh the world can be

Here is a truth: There is one type of liar
They who lie to themselves about the world and their place inside it
We tell lies because we want them to be believed
Yes by others, but also by us
Because the fake world is one we'd rather live in

Here is a truth: There are reasons to lie
Some of them are even good reasons
And the truth has many angles
Different people favour different approaches
There are many types of truths

Here is a truth: There is one type of truth
The honest truth, the way you perceive the world
No person sees every perspective
Share your angle on the truth with others
So together, you may see the Truth in its entirety

Fantasy

Young child, when you are older, you will realise swords are foolish

That shields are tough to wield

That your prince or princess is often guarded by tougher demons than dragons

That crowns can weigh you down

You will know that this world is not one of fairy tails

You will learn that no hero is too great to be clean of flaws

Yet know you must journey still

Don't let these warnings give you pause

Travel to the land of far far far away

Learn a trade of dashing arts and chivalry

Rise, young squire, the night is young

Act reckless, but with bravery

Like all, you were chosen. Here is your task. A burden. 

Seek the greatest challenge you can in that land.

You must best it, young prodigy

Emerge a much finer human.

And then, when it is time to return

Bring back some fantasy of your own

And you will make a little brighter

This imperfect world we must call home

Own story

I feel like everyone I meet is trying to write their own story
But, it's more like a graphic novel. Or even more than that.
We don't just have words on each page. There are pictures and action and athleticism and movement and code and
Well, memories.

I would love to be good enough at art that I could tell my story with drawings
Because I've seen people who tell their story with drawings
And, I'm not going to lie
It looks bloody awesome

Some act out their story, and rewrite it in the retelling
Others dance their tale
Or let it rise and fall with music they've created
Some people write their story in imprints left on others

No one writes their story in one medium
And no one's story makes sense, unless you've followed from the very start (and even then)
Some people tell their story at such a pace it scares me
Others seem to go slow, and then take an oblique turn if I look away

You, dear reader, have a story
That can only be told in your way
I hope one day, you'll let me witness it
So that my story can include me learning yours

Another life

If I have another life on Earth after this, which person will I be?
I wonder if time always flows linearly
And maybe, just maybe, I'll interact with a younger me
One who was having a bad day and acting callously

Would I have acted differently?
Should it really matter philosophically?
If the actions we do to others, somewhere down the line
May one day be done to us, as that body holds our mind

It may be self-centred, but I tend to find
It helps me be a little more forgiving, give others more time
Some may discard this notion of this fanciful rhyme
I'd ask you to listen once more as I opine

It's very easy to keep acting as you do and hold your pride
But if you realised your impact on other you may decide
That though we are imperfections with good meanings on the side
It's worth the effort, for how you make others feel inside.

A cup of coffee

Is this a cup of coffee I hold before me?
Oh what dangers lie within
What wonders it would be
To indulge just once in sin

To cheat the day
To disrupt the rhythm
But within each cup
I build a schism

Do not cheat the sandman
He who claims his debt
You garner his interest
Only with regret

This bitter brew through which some claim life
This source of sleepless savoured strife
So much potential, and yet I think
I will resist from this much-loved drink

An island of my own

I will find an island of my own
From the hustle of the crowd
Decorate it with silence
Leave the inhabitant wowed

It will be my refuge
From the storm that is to come
A place to heal my wounds
If the battle is not won

And in this island of my own
This place that only I have known
That I need as my place to hide
I have some small room set aside

So that if you need some shelter too
I have an island to share with you

Give Love a try

I sat two tables from the dingy counter, a warming drink in hand
Watching the Advocates at work, my angry retort fully planned
You may have seen them too, trying to spread their infectious word
Theirs the most dangerous idea, that you have ever heard

They've converted half this hiding place to their dangerous belief
When one's eyes finally grab my face, and spots my open grief
They take the other by their hand, give an affection squeeze through their glove
Walk over. Stop. Evangelise. "Excuse me. But have you heard the good word of Love?"

I force a fake smile, and watch the smaller one recoil slightly
"No." Too brutal. Kinder. "Tell me" I say much more politely.

Silence. I think they know I mistrust them, but they can't back down.
Heavy is the heart that follows the head that wears the crown.

"Love is..." they start, and sigh. I see them gain peace of mind.
"Love is the most wonderful thing that any being could ever find
Love is your destiny, and has been since your birth
Love gives more rewards than anything on Earth
It's the reason you wake up, it's better than your dreams
It fills you up inside and it leaves you bursting at the seams
Love is truth, Love is life, Love could never lie
So please, I ask you, wont you give Love a try?"

I can't hold it any longer. Their smiles are far too sweet.
Smiles which don't leave their face as I rise quickly from my seat

"You speak of love and all it does when it's requited and in good times
But love is the reason for many of history's most unforgivable crimes
I've seen hearts never recover from an honest rejection
I've seen good women slaughtered as an object of affection
Suicides from people who Love but were never meant to be together
Countless deaths on the hands of Love that stretch on for forever"

The Advocates look shocked. I see them, standing there
One opens their mouth. I interject "No, don't you dare.
Don't you tell me that it's worth it, that it's worth all the pain
Look at all the agony ever inflicted by love's name
I've seen factions form from fellows who think folk should only love a certain way
Fighting follows love like night follows day."

"So how is it worth it. Tell me, please.
How can something so soft bring grown men to their knees?
I've seen the rough and tumble and I believe I want no part
Of this cult-ish obsession that has infected both your hearts."

They respond before I can stop them, "But have you known Love before?
And what wonder it is to have someone you adore?"

"Of course I had tried love. Once. A long time ago.
What. We all have. And I learnt what we all know.
That Love betrays. That Love is an infection.
So now I don't want Love. Or any of this affection."

"But affection is something every person needs
To want to feel another's touch is nature, not greed"

"Love is a drug! And sure, I've relapsed on occasion
But after the highs I felt the lows, so I feel no persuasion"

"Love is perfect, but the people practising it are not
Yet these flawed people deserve something which you seem to have forgot
That life is at its hardest when you try to do it without another
Another flawed individual you can call friend, and lover"

"I'm an addict! And here you are trying to make me relapse
You must know, a desire to re-Love runs through every synapse?

"Then why stay away, based on what others have done in Love's name?
Do you think we followers of Love don't also feel history's shame?
So why do you think that we find Love in our hearts still?
Because Love, true Love, conquers all, it's our calm and our thrill"

"We're not saying Love is easy, that you have to Love right now
Just that we find Love pleasing, and that it saves us somehow
So we pray that for you, if Love should come along
You'd be willing to try its song again, it doesn't have to be for long
We're sorry for what you've gone through, we understand it is tough
But give Love one more chance. That should be enough"

And before I could retort, they turned and left.
Leaving me alone, and leaving me feeling bereft.
I know what Love can do, that it can drive you insane.
And yet. And yet. Maybe. Just once. I could try Love again.

Aesop Inspired

I've saw a person panic about pursuing a dream, not realising they were ready already

And I saw a shadow sure that they stuttered their steps but I could see that their steps were steady

I knew a kind man willing a bold stand on his own for the grandest vision

But he insisted on waiting for some unknown to come and give permission

So, if you've been waiting for an unknown message, this poem is as good as any.

It's time for you to rise. It's time for Anxiety to take a knee

You are not the lack of self-confidence that you so often portray yourself to be

Paint a self-portrait in oils that don't run if you treat them right

Never underestimate the power of light so be a sun and shine this dark night

It's a path with no map which is no easy road to take

And the habit of not being brave is a difficult one to shake
I hear some want to live a comfortable life that doesn't stretch them too far
But they still feel stress and strife because we're human and it's who we are

So it's time to make a shelf worth of memories that you can display

It's time to stop watches from ticking away yet another two rotation day

A crowd watches in anticipation, will our hero get out of their own head?

Or cling tight rooted to life planted in a flower bed

So take advice from this daffodil that poked its petals through concrete

You don't make grey have colour unless the colours come to compete

Distant rainbows forever illuminating horizon skies

Are unreachable illusions until you leave your raindrop and rise

I've seen people panic about pursuing a dream,
And many (maybe most) just give up and scream
But in a world of unknown actors you must look inside your own heart
Only then, once you are sure that no enemy, no friend, no self is stopping you
         Can you pluck up the courage to be the one that writes your part

Travelling

I love diving into a new culture

Visiting a city for the first time

Admiring the art and architecture

The story of the polish and the grime

I love finding what makes a place unique

Even when those things are off the main track

It's not just sheer adventure I seek

What I love most is that which I bring back

That part of my mind which had to expand

To encompass a new type of lifestyle

An island of my brain for this new land

But the thing that always most makes me smile

Is meeting great people in every place

They who truly give a culture its face

Caterpillar

I am very fond of my caterpillar friend
They work very hard, and like to pretend
That they are brave, this caterpillar I know
But life is tough, and little caterpillars need to grow
Despite all the dangers they face beyond belief
Trying to shake them off from their caterpillar leaf

Life is tough, so don't feel any caterpillar shame
From hiding away from this caterpillar game
Having to rest a while in a pupa bed
Means I will simply call you my chrysalis friend instead
And I will wait. For you to emerge. In your own time
Don't let me rush you, caterpillar chrysalis friend of mine

Because we all go through changes, need time alone
And dear caterpillar chrysalis friend of mine, oh how you have grown
You may not believe me, and you were always beautiful
And you may think I'm saying it just to be dutiful
But after all the growth, it's possible this story will end
With me calling you now, instead, my butterfly friend


Dedicated to a friend, who was going through some tough changes, and deserved to feel a little special.

The abyss

I've seen the abyss but I didn't collect a ticket
Most of the time I'm lucky and don't go near it

But I know others that have a little house on the edge
Comfortable walking the path around that ledge
It's the life they know
Where their fate flows
And I'm amazed at the strength they never fail to show

I've not stared too deep, and don't wish to any time soon
But I've seen deep into the eyes of those whose abyss is in full bloom
And I want to say
That everything is ok
And opine that all is fine and not to go that way

But I wont do them the discourtesy of pretending
That I have the answers to a thing I'm not questioning
They know better than I
Where answers lie
Those shouting into the deep abyss the eternal why

Just know I'm here, and I'll venture near with a rope
Doing all I can to stay an honest man and help you cope

There's things I can't help with. But some I can.
If you need some support, then take my hand.

Father's Day

Classically trained, is something I've never been

But I've learned a few lessons from the things I've seen

In trying to learn what life is and what it means

I've realised I can't trust those things I see on screens

A father, and a son.

A person, and a person.

One is old, one is young.

And they're all different, every one.

But I see the same relation again and again

Always a static figure contrasted with growing pain

A son learning how this world is so strange

The father out of touch and unwilling to change

There's bitterness between them, never too long

There's affecting between them, never too strong

Cookie cutter enough to appeal to the throngs

A neighbourhood nearby they could easily belong

And that's just it.

Why it's off just a bit.

Why this image doesn't sit.

Why it doesn't seem to fit.

People don't average out.

We're different in different ways.

We whisper and we shout.

We're different on different days.

We do things we'll regret, that we never repeat.

Others regretful things we do almost every week.

We wonder how we achieved our greatest feat.

Why our thoughts don't match the words we speak.

So: a son, and a dad.

Both good, both bad.

Both happy, both sad.

Both people, and a little mad.

On earth, there are millions of father-son relations

Each unique, dependent on the father-son situation.

The history, time of day, circumstances, and location

All with varying levels of infatuation.

With all this variety, I must remember mine isn't the same.

A son, Harry (that's me!), and my dad who I never call James

We are not the father-son relation that has reached such fame

We are our own thing, and that's no source of shame.

We've learned how to talk about difficult things.

We've seen each other struggle. And a little of what that struggle brings.

But we care for each other. In our own special, and honestly, quietly lovely way.

So, from this son,  I'll wish my Dad, a happy father's Day.

My suggestion for a song for the UK to enter into Eurovision

See
I'm done with the guilt and I'm done with the shame
And I'm done with making you feel the same
So I'll admit that it's me and finally
You'll see, that I'm taking the blame.

I know I was needy
I kept asking for more
I made you need me
No longer at war

But I didn't know
All that you had done
And I didn't show
That we had to be one

So I took and I took
And I kept on taking
And now it looks
Like our bond is breaking

So
I'm done with the guilt and I'm done with the shame
And I'm done with making you feel the same
So I'll admit that it's me and finally
You'll see, that I'm taking the blame.

I lied to myself, yes
I see that now
I was selfish
I broke our vow

We pledged good health
And we did our best
We shared our wealth
And we tried to invest

But it was my way and my say
Or I said that I'd leave
Now I have to pay
The debt I've received

And
I'm done with the guilt and I'm done with the shame
And I'm done with making you feel the same
So I'll admit that it's me and finally
You'll see, that I'm taking the blame.

I, just wanted control
I, never saw my mistakes
I, didn't know my goals
I, caused it all to break

And I got what I wanted
You gave into my demands
The victory I flaunted
But I had no plans

Now I realise what we had
But I was on the attack
So I wont call you mad
If you don't take me back

But finally
I'm done with the guilt and I'm done with the shame
And I'm done with making you feel the same
So I'll admit that it's me and finally
You'll see, that I'm taking the blame.

Yeah,

I'm done with the guilt and I'm done with the shame
And I'm done with making you feel the same
So I'll admit that it's me and finally
You'll see, that I'm taking the blame.

Finally
You'll see

That I'm taking
The blame

The word disappeared

Each word is energy
And it fades with time
The echos dissipate
From every line

Maybe it bounces
Lasts a little longer
Hits an ear
Becomes a little stronger

Changes form
Into neural wiring
Words are power
If they are inspiring

Passed on, repeated
If they have aid
Words can gain energy
These rare words, don't fade

I've thought of this topic before, but the best version of it was already written by someone else, in my opinion - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWaplwRa7Ko

The smile that you forgot

You smiled for a second
At a friend you barely knew
You hardly remembered them,
it was the least that you could do

But that friend you barely knew
Needed a smile that day
You may not have stopped to talk,
But you helped them on their way

So much so, that smile you gave
They passed it on again
To another who was in need
Of some cheering from a friend

This sharing of the smile
It travelled very far
And eventually it did die out
With a trail like a star

But with each set of lips
Whose straight line became curvy
Some cheer was felt inside
And helped others feel more worthy

We don't chose which of our actions
Spark a change and which do not
Just don't give up - remember what you can manage
With the smile that you forgot

I care for my friends

I care for my friends. I care for them deeply.
I just can't comprehend that they also care for me.
Here's a fact I know, but not a fact I've learned
Compassion is often given, rather than something to be earned

I assume there is a quest or a challenge I must take
You can try your best until you bust or break
But despite a lot of what I've done, their caring is still there
Not as something as I have won, or as the cost of a faire

But simply because we had a connection.
Somewhere deep down there was some affection.
That person, my friend, decided for some reason they liked me.
And I can't fathom why and keep second guessing despite the
fact that people are wonderfully weird, they aren't doing it to spite me.

Yes, friendship does require maintenance.
No, an instruction manual is not available on request.
Just return care given, with interest and reverence.
Humans are weird. And like you, your friend is just trying their best.

Where passion is sewn

Do not, my friend, let yourself hate passion in another

Don't let hate fill your heart for one indulging in their art
More power to the hours they've been crafting their part
For the days they've slaved to make something they enjoy
Even if it doesn't connect with every girl and reflect in every boy

Not every scent was meant to have a global appeal
I've found sounds of renown that fail to make me feel
I've split hairs in despair at the money some art has made
Maybe a masterpiece "adored by all" leaves me dismayed
And fills me we rage that this piece gets displayed
While a mainstream cage seems to fill up the page
To contain any refrain that to me seems amazing
And it drives me insane so I'm barely able to keep it contained and...*ahem*

Embrace the art you adore, for what it means to you
But embrace all artists more, as long as they seek what they feel is true
It's a dark world, which takes a lot of effort to illuminated
Let's celebrate that, even if I know you would find other spots to ruminate

Let people explore the world, it is too big to explore alone
Share your adventures, and maybe venture a path less known
There is virtue in a map, but not in an artificial throne
And never, my friend, hate those places where passion is sewn

Passion without Pride

Give me passion without pride

Give me passion
Let me burn with love for what I do
Let me adore, let me create
Allow me to long for fulfilment

Let me not have pride
Keep me humble in my fire
Keep my identity in the journey
Able to ask for all aid I need

Give me passion without pride

Good Friday

The girl was upset. She was only just holding herself together.
"But you promised!" She cried. She seemed to cry forever.
Promises are only words, or, that's what I used to believe
This great game we had been playing I now just wanted to leave

.
.
.

So, I know this girl. She's the sort of person worth knowing.
She'll create the most wonderful adventures, then keep the world growing.
But don't step in too lightly, she cares deeply for her creation.
She knows how her birds fly, and the shape of her vegetation.

Such passion is contagious, I wanted to be part of her world too.
She agreed - "If you look after my world then I'll look after you"
So I promised, and I meant it. Not knowing how strong such words could be.
She allowed me to step inside her world, the one she'd create to hold such beauty.

I lasted five minutes. It wasn't my fault! I was betrayed!
And yes, sure, I went against one of the only rules she had made.
But it hurt me too. Well, probably less than it hurt her to be fair.
We carried on regardless, regret and tension in the air.

I kept doing small things, and the girl kept working on,
Adapting to my mistakes, correcting when I went wrong.
I was just happy I got to play with her at all
And she enjoyed being with me, despite it being so stressful.

One time she had to nearly start over, but we kept going still.
She made me once a ruler, and answered to my will.
...I didn't do that well, and soon I fell from power, then again once more.
But we loved this world between us, every heart and every flaw.

Then I got greedy. I started to seize control.
But I didn't have her gift, her focus and her goal.
Things became hazy, armies fell at my command.
The world I was meant to care for fell beneath my hand.

.
.
.

"You promised!". I did. I meant it at the time.
The words now seemed quite hollow and echoed with my crime.
She was going to strike me out, banish me forever.
No longer would we share in this wonderful world together.

"I should" she said "strike you from this place"
"You've defiled what we built, you've acted a disgrace"
"I could ask you to leave, you know it would be fair and true"
"So know how much it hurts me
       That I'm going to throw away my world
              And keep you"

.
.
.
This world she had created, this beautiful piece of art
She gave it up for me, this thing to which she had poured her heart
I did not deserve it, but I was thankful just the same.
So I pledged to be more faithful
     And to ensure I kept her promise
           I pledged it in her name.

Take on the world

I want to take on the world
To strike it where it stands
Tackle great injustice
Unveil cunning plans

But, If I do that,
Then I won't have the time to fold my sheets
Or the energy to cook my dinner
I can only do so much these days
My schedule grows ever thinner

Know that I am still enthusiastic
Even if I can't cheer quite as loud
Know that I am still in love
That my tired gestures show I'm proud

I am still the human I always was
Though I can't do as much each day
I will wake up. I will get out of bed. I will get dressed.
I will open my door. I will leave my room. I will try to make my way.

And I will take on the world
Albeit from a different frame
It may not be as epic a tale
But it will be a trial all the same

Try to be kind

I hope I'm described as someone who was kind.

We don't control our legacies
Fate takes us in many ways
Of course I want to have stories
Ups and downs and nights and days

I will meet many people
Each one on a journey of their own
Together we will face challenges
Apart from those we face alone

I may outwit a monster
I may out-muscle it too
Every victory - every loss - helps us grow
I know that to be true

But, however hard things get
How ever beaten down I am
I aspire to be the type of person
That always lends a hand

When one day I fall, as we all will
Those who remain will gather and talk
Describe who I once was
The path that I now walk

They may talk of deeds or failures
Of my looks, of my belief, of my fire
While these aspects are not nothing
Know it is my dearest desire

That they may honestly describe me as someone who tried to be kind.

Never doubt a farmer

Never doubt a farmer
The resilience they show
Caring for the fields
For each and every row
Don't forget dear reader
Crops are difficult to grow
They're raising a right of passage
Each new field a fiendish foe

Some sow seeds of trouble
Scatter mischief on the ground
Some wish to harvest bitcoin
From a plentiful field of pound
The seeds of inspiration
Are very rarely found
And I've seen fields of kittens
No farmer could herd around

The cost of all is known
The hardness of each field
Only the cunningest of farmers
Emerge each time with yields

But the toughest crop there is
The hurdle most farmers fall
To plant the seeds of hope
Make them the worthiest of all

The girl who dreams in books

When she dreams, she dreams in books
Of imagination flowing through every line
Of words that leap off pages
Unreadable scrawls on every spine

Each subconscious is a mirror
Hers is a winding library
Words she spends each day reading
Widen her dream vocabulary

There are stories and characters
Knowledge absorbed without shame
Reality is the domain of outside
Here fiction and fact read the same

The light is just right, the chair's the right height
Some narratives take the whole night by hook
There may be themes to redeem or stories hidden in seams
All of them, to be read by the girl who dreams in books

The forest

Rays of sunlight lazily fell
Brushing gold the ageing leaves
Passing a mother bird and lived-in bark
Tumbling to the distant base of the trees
Where the less known path led on
To any amiable to its cause
Through the weary home it gave
To those with tired eyes and toughened paws

The listener

I've talked the talk of a listener
I've told that tale a thousand times
I know I'm known as one who likes to listen
I've written as such in many lines

But if I'm given cause to recollect and
I pause long enough for reflection and
I make myself be overly honest then
Maybe I don't always really listen

I don't think it's that I seek constant validation
I don't think I've been cursed to have no hesitation
But the meaning of this insight is the underlying reason doesn't matter
Just that I will never gain from others if I never cease my chatter

So to let my inner listener live up to what I say
It's time to talk the talk and lock my lips away...


I actually wrote two poems on this theme. I wrote the one below first, but I think I improved on it with the one above, as it made the focus more on changing the internal rather than blaming the external, and also has some more humorous tones. Still, I'm keeping the first here as a bonus.


I want to help you speak
To say what you need to say
I know I talk too much
So I want to listen today

I know you've learnt many things
You've lived through many tales
I have had my time to sing
Do not be afraid to fail

We will talk together, if needed
I will not let you fall
But you must lead the way
You must learn to stand tall

If you want to talk let me help you in your mission
And, in exchange, could you help me learn to listen?

The child

His hands were so large
Her head was so small
He'd crushed things this size with no problem at all

He breathed loudly
And unsteadily
His arms had been trained, but they didn't feel ready

Her face was red
His was too
Flushed with feeling, with this life anew

He didn't want to let go
But one day, he must
He knew this to be true, and nearly sealed his cuss

She was beautiful
Right there and then
There was him and her, no if and no when

Just a perfect moment
She'd never recall
That he'd share forever with this being so small




Motivation music: https://aetheraudio.bandcamp.com/album/songs-for-her