Time spent well

This poem is dedicated to time spent well
Since time is the resource we can't help but sell
Despite this, some 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 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 from their silhouette that their steps were steady

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

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

Well, if you've been waiting for a nobody, then here I am.
Because I'm telling you: 

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

You are not the lack of self-confidence that you so often think 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 shine like the sun you were supposed to become this dark night

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

And the habit of not being brave is a difficult one to brake
Some people want to live a comfortable life that doesn't stretch them too far
But we still feel stress and strife because we're human and for some bizarre reason it's who we are

So it's time to make a shelf worth of memories that you can be the first to 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 you bring the colours come to compete

Those distant rainbows which illuminate horizon skies

Are just illusions until you leave your raindrop and rise

I've seen people panic about pursuing a dream,
And many (maybe most) give up with barely a scream

But if life is a play, you must seize the pen from your heart

And realize that no one can stop you from writing your own 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 going tell you about someone I am very fond of. My caterpillar friend.
They work very hard, and like to pretend
That they are brave, this caterpillar friend I know
But life is tough, and caterpillars tend to grow
Cause they're fighting off dangers beyond belief
Which are trying to shake them off from their caterpillar leaf

Life is tough, so don't feel any caterpillar shame
From hiding away in 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, we all need time alone
And dear chrysalis friend of mine, oh how you have grown
As caterpillar, chrysalis, and beyond - you have always been you, and beautiful
And you know I'm not saying this just to be dutiful
But after all the growth, we all know 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 chairs 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

Faith

Dear Fellow Struggler in Faith,

I pray you accept this advice with my invitation
You see, important matters have been brought to my attention
That some thoughts on faith are subject to indoctrination
Please find my thoughts enclosed for your consideration

First then, when you think of faith, what is your definition?
Personally I think first we need to define it by omission
Those things which do not affect your faith if they happen to waver
I wonder if these definitions will find your favour...

Let's us start with topics on which it is easy to agree
Your faith is not your profession, your status, or your degree
Nor by any other method by which you pay your debts
Your faith is far more than these earthly effects

Your faith is also more than your mortal coil
That body of yours which weakens with age and toil
It could be injured and broken and bruised and blue
These thing may hurt, but your faith will remain just as true

Dear reader, even if times are hard your faith is not your depression
Mental health struggles do not mean you are punished, or your faith has lessened
It's true that God may be harder to see in these days
But though He's hard to see He has not gone away

Your faith is not attending church seven times a week
Your faith is not how loudly you pray for the weak
It's not how many verses you've got at beck and call
Your faith is not defined by how many times you fall

Your faith is not the anger that a doorbell wont ring
Nor is it your sadness at global suffering
Your faith is not defined by trauma or defined by feinds
Maybe it's time to corner what faith actually means

For me, faith is trust, a relationship you treasure
And like any relationship, there's challenges to weather
Faith is not certainty, faith can have doubts
But then faith can act as though there's nothing to worry about

Faith is difficult, but worth it I swear
Dear reader of mine, if you are still there
These are my thoughts, which I believe to be true
But you must make sure the person that defines your faith, is you

Good Luck,
Signed, a fellow struggler

Identity

It comes at the boundary of what and who?
Deciding the things which define you as you
Words are simply words and it seems an absurd task
Defining my identity if anyone should ask

Am I am poet, or a person who does poetry
Am I truly kind or do I just make myself act kindly
Am I a scientist because I think theoretically
Am I just a label that defines my identity?

I breath every day but I'd never call myself a breather
Neither as a drinker or a thinker or an eater
Maybe the only reason I don't define by the deeds I do each day
It that every individual I've ever met also acts this way

So if it's not what I do daily, is it what I do differently?
Those things you don't do that I do uniquely?
But I've met better artists, better athletes, better friends
Do I have to win a label and then stand and defend?

I don't think I'm alone in the fact that I falter
I've forgotten many things in the pursuit of growing older
My morality is meant to be my steady compass in a storm
But one day I'll be introduced by things I can't do any more

In these modern times I find people seem to know the life they're living
Like they've looked inside and pried a guide that seemed easily given
And I'm just standing here like "Can I get one of those?"
Preferable one with easy answers and simplistic prose

I'm not sure I can call this a journey as I don't think there's a destination
And though my God stands solid my faith can also be shaken
The only honest answer in this quest to find identity
Is the simplest one of all. That I am me.

You've probably never seen me this way

You've probably never seen me this way
These aren't things that normal people display
I've lost a few days to this beast in my skull with no sleep and it shows
I keep composure with a bigger dose
I'm not alright
- Sandpeople, Not Alright

You've probably never seen me this way,
The things I keep hidden away
The way I act on my own
When I'm left all alone
I'm not alright

It's those days when I try to get ready
My mind wants to leave but my body holds steady
When I know in my heart
That it's time to depart
Wondering why I haven't left already

You've done so much, why can't you do this thing?
You aren't afraid of crowds, even if you can't sing
But I can't find the energy
I find it's left me already
Despite the joy I know it will bring

Do you ever go to move and find yourself depleted?
Those moments you go to fight life and feel defeated?
I don't miss things by a lack of respect
My body's circumspect
And I know this act will be repeated

How do you act that people don't see?
I wonder if you're so different to me?
I want to be more open
About how I'm actually coping
So others don't feel so lost at sea

Silent Protagonist #743

Hi, you can call me silent protagonist #743 

You've probably already seen the likes of me 

The quiet type, oh so stoic 

Listen patiently, don't you know it

I didn't used to be like this you know

 I used to monologue wherever I'd go 

Talk of bravery and other fancy lies 

Some would love me, some would despise

And I caught the ire of a powerful mage 

My fanciful words caused him quiet rage 

His scheme was cunning, so hear my ode 

To the shop I found at the side of the road

---

Welcome to Davos's magical emporium 

We've got treats, and then even more of 'em! 

No adventurer is anyone without my gift 

Buy my trinkets and watch yours stats lift!

Dear sir, yes you! (he pointed at me) 

You look like a fellow who may be in need 

Of a sword (quite affordable) which can cause great harm 

While also (can you believe?) making you feel calm

---

Like anyone would, I asked for a trial 

The shopkeep said sure, with a wicked smile 

I took the sword, gave it a go 

And into the sword I felt my rage flow

I struck the shop dummy with the coldest heart 

The sword struck gladly as I plied my art 

While feeling control I've never felt before 

And instantly knew I'd return to this shop door

---

On my next trip, I got boots which took away my fear 

Guiding me gladly if danger drew near 

A set of spells wrapped up tight in a book 

Always providing the answer if I gave it a look

A shield which always seemed to block 

Whether attacked by a rocket or just a stray rock 

A shapeshifting cloak which sparkled with joy 

Chainmail which took my desire to shy away

---

I am not ungrateful of my aid, so if anyone asked 

I told them the item I got from Davos's last 

Enthusiastically at first, but you see over time 

It seemed more of a grind to keep stopping crime

I grew more methodical, and far more cold 

As each new item came and took control 

Stealing part of my personality, making it their own 

And far too late did this deal became known

I was the greatest, I needed my gear 

I relied on it containing all my anger and fear 

The trade was I could inspire people with speeches no more 

Another silent hero, as Davos cackled inside his door

Tried writing to a prompt for a change - https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/amhcqh/wp_you_probably_should_have_thought_it_through/

Another tongue

You know those times when you sit back relax
And let facts swarm into your cortex?
I mull the possibilities of life all its strife
And if I've failed in navigating something so complex

It may display my grade-school philosophy
But it amazes me that you can understand me

Look ma, look at me! I'm making vibrations
How bizarre that with these vibrations I can give indication
Of some funky theological theory or ask if you're doing fine
Or maybe if you'd like to see a movie and go out some time.

But not only that. Because I spent a life time learning my lines
Learning nuances and how to intertwine densely packed rhymes

What really amazes me, is around the Earth, from many different homes
That crazily, from birth, people learnt from a different set of tongues and tomes
Had we met at five, we could only have communicated in playground games and chalk drawings
But now they've spent their time alive learning so we can talk in a morning

I feel so stupid. Sometimes. Realising how much work it takes.
To learn a new dictionary, and all of English's weird quirks and mistakes.
Especially, when I am apologetically asked for a niche word or definition
One that, in my single tongue, I only learnt after twenty-one years of existing!

I'm sorry if sometimes I speak to fast.
If I forget you and I have different pasts.
You can know so much. I'm in awe, and so I say nothing less
Than that my multilingual friends leave this single-tongued poet
speechless

Emotions Today

Some people, are angry, and that's ok.
Some are confused, things aren't going their way.
Some are happy, and having a great time.
Others are feeling low, and facing a climb.

How are you today, friend of mine?
Is it a bad day, or are you feeling fine?
Remember each emotion is ok in moderation.
From rage to envy to infatuation.

Don't spend too long in one place if you can.
You must find a way to move, form a plan.
A daring adventure to leave your natural place.
And go out tomorrow wearing a different face.

Whatever emotion you happen to be today,
Don't be scared to be pulled a different way.
Humans are varied, with many things they can feel.
It's our gift and curse, and what makes us feel real.

The virtue of togetherness

I know that individuals can do fantastic things
Have you ever seen one fall in love, or heard one beautifully sing?
Maybe they told you a joke that had you laughing for days?
I don't want to discount the individual, they have wondrous ways

But - and this is controversial to many of Hollywood's narrative arcs -
There's a limit to the tasks on which an individual can embark
There are missions in life better done with friends
Collective effort to achieve extraordinary ends

And yes, you may be individuals within a team
And yes, working with other can sometimes make you scream
Yet it's not despite, but because of your different cultures and approaches and beliefs
Working together you can achieve things that would have been out of reach

We sit in houses with water and energy
Travel on roads which we rely on heavily
Read books watch moves and listen intently
We grow from culture we absorb daily
All produced by people we may never have met
Helping grow our philosophies to tackle issues we haven't realised yet
Here's another collective fact it's good to appreciate if you haven't before
You can't do everything alone: it takes two people to make one more

And, though you may forget it sometimes, you, dear individual, are a wonderful thing
You have many gifts and talents you are offering
You can achieve much on your own, that is certainly true
But you can do so because of the family and teachers and parents and friends that helped build you up into you

So, you dear collective individual, are wonderful. And you can achieve many individual goals.
But let's join where we can, and help even more fantastic things unfold.

The astrocartographer

The astronaut idly drew lines on the glass
Over an earthen underlay

The boundaries on each country that passed
And to her dismay

From way up high, among the stars
She who knew so much

Could not, from a distance so far
Separate them with touch

Islands were easy, but beyond those
What was this and that?

Whose were those jungles and those snows?
The mountains seemed flat

She pondered which rulers she was mimicking
And what she had just found

So she decided all that bickering
Was best left on the ground

Mix of chemicals

I am the mix of chemicals that makes up my brain
And this mix of chemicals, keeps me feeling sane.

A dash of this and I'm a dish of depression.
A drop of adrenaline and I'll swing my fists in aggression.
Deliver me some dopamine and I'm learning for a while.
Set me up with serotonin and I'm living with a smile.

One production line down I'm a different personality.
What can I say about the cocktail inside of me?
This internal recipe cooking up relentlessly
I'm eternally lucky what it ends up making me

So how could I be mad at someone who is a few drops down
Or a little too much of something which makes you frown?
If a few pills set the balance of someone back to 'normal'
Which set of chemicals should I address if I'm feeling formal?

Humans are weird. Imbalanced to a tee.
I am my chemicals and my chemicals are me.

Top 10 of 2018

Amazingly, I'm still going. If you'd asked me in January 2013 whether I'd complete the year, I'm not sure I'd have thought it possible. Five years of poetry down, and I'm starting to get ok at the whole thing.

I like to take a period at the end of each year to actually think about if I'm still producing things I enjoy, and still pushing myself in new directions. Here are ten poems I enjoyed writing this year.

Is life a race, or a dance?
One of the real benefits of writing is that it allows me to take any phrase or idea I hear, and try to re-frame it in a way which makes it fundamentally my own. I loved the idea when I heard it, and sitting down and crafting out a poem (in an atypical structure for myself) really helped solidify the idea in my head. This was one of the poems which really made me feel it was possible (if not easy) for me to write in a way other than that which comes naturally to me.

Vulnerable
In an age of polish and social media, we try to present ourselves as perfect individuals. We talk about all the good things we're doing, and hide the imperfections. "Vulnerable" follows on from my old poem Monsters (still one of my favourites), but doesn't try to hide behind a layer of metaphor and humour. I performed this one on my Facebook, and it seems to have connected with a number of others who feel the same way as I.

Leaky Shield
Following on from "Vulnerable", this was me being inspired to write my usual hopeful poetry, but this time from the perspective of one more flawed. While it's not been something I've avoided in the past, actively embracing the flaws while still retaining a message of hope felt much more honest to me. An approach I'd really like to develop further in future.

Dear Lord, Thank You, Amen
One of my real focuses this year was to write a bit more poetry inspired by my religion - it's a fairly core part of my philosophy after all. This also happened to be my favourite spoken word piece of the year, which makes it a lot sweeter. Being able to get this freedom with my writing and removing one of my oddest blocks should help me be open in future, and I'll be very happy to produce more poems like this one.

Visualising Eternity
A simple sweet poem, which tries to take a big and complex topic (infinity), and explain why the existence of infinity shouldn't put you off trying things, not matter how intimidating it feels. While this was written off the back of a religious discussion I was having (to which I still think it applies), I do think it applies to other settings too, and I don't think it looses anything for the applicability.

Take a second, and take notice
While this poem may be a little bit meta (the actual act of me writing was me following the advice), I feel this was a good poem to write. Often we need excuses to be thankful for things. One of the nice things about this blog is I can just write such things if the mood inspires me. I got a fair amount of positive reaction for this one, so it seems a lot of people agree with me on this.

The Compass and The Instructor
Following on from the aim of my second year, I really feel I've come on in my ability to write multiple different approaches on the same theme. I liked both of these poems, but I actually think together they make a better, more coherent piece. Not something I've done a lot of, but something I'd like to try more.

In a war
It may not seem like it, given how individual writing a poetry blog is, but I love when my work intertwines with others. Sometimes it is through collaboration, other times it's through retelling someone's story. This was one of the rare chances to do the latter. As much as I enjoy creativity and creation from scratch, this type of inspiration is very powerful to me and I chance I always relish - especially for what it can mean to the person I write for.

Grandma
Often, if I'm taking a long trip, I will print off some of my poems and try to edit them slightly. Do a bit of rewriting, cut out a line or two, etc. etc. This is one of the first times I've rewritten a poem thematically, to create something I see as completely new. I had performed the core part of the poem to my Grandma and I wanted to preserve that - it signified an experience we had been through, when I performed it to her. However, changing the rhyme scheme to add context at the beginning and end helped frame the poem well. It mirrors "In a War" well. If I want to be able to learn to tell other people's stories, then there can be no higher purpose for that skill than remembering those close to me. Rest in Peace, Grandma.

To write an epic
Often, I'm forced to sit and reflect on why I write. I wonder if I should put more effort into promoting my work, and try to reach the biggest audience possible. Even though I think people enjoy what I write (or at least they pretend to), I'm under no illusions as to the luck and effort required to push my work to the next stage. So I am instead learning to find the joy in the small things, and in the personal level poetry allows me to interact. I chat to a lot of artists who get annoyed at performing to small crowds. If I take a step back, I am amazed anyone at all would take time to read what I've written, let alone take something from it. If you create something, take pleasure in each person that enjoys it. It's something I need to remind myself to be grateful of, and a theme I will likely write to again.

Thank you, whether you've read one piece of mine or all of them. These poems contain many hours of my life and many aspects of my personality and philosophies. And a few stories of course. I hope you are able to take these fragments of my imagination, and use it to inspire something in yourself.