You may share my flag
But we aren't the same
We use the same labels
But it's not in my name
This often feels cruel
Like, in a better place
I could be openly "this"
No nuance to face
Be it Christian, male
British, scientist
cis-gender, able-bodied
Or even optimist
There are many like me
But they are not like me
They share hate and fear
And they proclaim purity
But it's my flag as well
It hangs at my side
I would like to wave it
It's just...tough to do so with pride.
Some are keen to say we're cruel
That we have something rotten inside
They relish in pointing out flaws
They even do it with pride!
If we are truly kind at heart
Then I take courage in this fact
That we have something deep within us
That inspires us to act
If we aren't kind at core
I think I take comfort in this too
For every kindness I then see
Is a deliberate act followed through
In life, we witness much to make us sad, much to make us cheer
Just remember that you choose how to see the world that will appear
So, what's the level you go to avoid conflict?
And I'm not talking about a virtuous fight
I'm talking social situation, anxious persuasion
To avoid being up worrying late at night
I want to be true to myself most of the time
But I know I'll walk an extra mile if I'm asked
To save my face and not take up space
I'll happily take on being over-tasked
In certain situations I know things flip
I can sense another trying to fit in around me
And it's also true no matter what I do
I can sense a kin acting awkwardly
It's hard to find a balance, like a lot of life
We'll go great lengths to avoid a little strife
I'll try to be more open, and also more aware
To still be myself, but still show that I care
I'm witnessing a master in the midst of making my start
It's me witnessing a future I could only wish to impart
See I'm no where near skilled enough to mimic what I see
But I've studied enough to scans the seams in the tapestry
There is hidden scaffolding which is holding up the frame
Carefully crafted and concealed through skill not shame
Breadcrumb lain in a line for the learnéd fan
Who wants to start their own journey but wonders if they can
Plenty pretty plosives placed to build a beat in bass along a line
Peter Piper picked coulda picked a pickled pepper but he left 'em on the vine
In the spaces, in the gaps, there is cunning craftwork in the making
There's a world of difference in a fighter holding back and one who's faking
I'm essentially no nearer a professor than one who never even tried
But I'm seen footprints in my past that remind me of the ride
That I have many miles ahead, but that the journey has been pathed
And that I've already got the perks of appreciation for the craft
***
Inspired by Testament
y'know, maybe there's something to this whole true love thing?
can't be.
why?
well, if there were, I reckon more people would do it
I've been dabbling a little in a dark art
Celebrating an emotion previously kept deep in the heart
Trying to figure out if such a feeling is for me
Something I've previously only ever had the urge to flee
I'm not going full ice bath just quite yet
I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is something I'm gonna regret
So I'm taking it slow, this methodical engineer
Is trying to let go and to face his fear
but why is it good to be vulnerable
what do you mean?
i'm scared of doing things wrong
but if you don't start, how will you ever do them right?
Dear Muse
I have come to make another offering of experience and memory
wrapped up in emotional filters and personal bias
please, please, help me turn this into something new
let me take these thoughts and feelings and create
with the stitches hidden behind folds of metaphor
where the seams are good contrast rather than shoddy craftsmanship
so that only a trained eye can see where it all falls apart
my Dear Muse, who finds philosophy in the mundane and routine in excitement
I have journeyed long
help me not to falter
to finish what I create
to keep unique in my craft
and to find more offerings which can blend with the first
see, my Muse
You may be a product of this human algorithm of neurological processes and interpretations
but with some spark of soul and creativity
I will keep spinning lines from axons
I will touch the shared consciousness beyond my own
And try to make something greater than myself
Muse, whatever you are
help me create
one more time
and then one more
When you're keeping up something by habit
Sometimes you wonder if you should just let it end
Habits are hard and they eat up your time
Which can make them a tough thing to defend
I have broken many habits
Many streaks in life have stopped
Some, I have even restarted
Trying to pretend they never dropped
The extra time is nice, but there's something nicer
Something you don't see in the day to day
Progress. Progress that only comes with resilience.
It takes time to progress a skill from bad to ok
Today, if I could choose, I would stop. Cease flowing.
But the me in a year will likely be glad I kept going.
I don't know if I believe in Fate
But I believe in the chances She brings
I don't know if She is real
But I know not to reject Her offerings
We have less control over our ride through life
Than many motivational speakers would have you think
This randomness can cause us all much strife
Y'all talk of swimming? I'm trying to float so I don't sink.
I can only do so many tasks
Within the days I have been given
There's only so much time to bask
And so many days to be truly living
So I will do my best to seize upon whatever falls my way
Try to make my best tomorrow by not missing out today
It's time to stop thinking so much in binaries
And embrace the in-betweens
Stop thinking yes or no
When it's ok to be maybes
This insistence of one side or the other
Always at an extreme
It misses the fantastic idea
Of probabilities
I'm not talking centrism,
More of progress
Managing to get half way
Is not more or less
There is more than winning
If you give it your all
Having flown a few seconds
Is not lessened by a fall
Stop judging everything as simply a success or a fail
And I guarantee you will tell a much richer tale
How do you see the world?
Is it happy, is it sad?
Is it mostly one, the other?
I think we all feel it's a little mad
But it is a different shade we see
Tinted by our life and struggle
Suffering, and celebration
How we dealt with trouble
I know some see these fields
As darkness with only little light
That we may put in great effort
Yet always lose ourselves to night
When I meet those folk
Who see warmth as only fleeting
I feel a little of their sadness
That the darkness might be defeating
Then I steel to my core
And I light my fire high
And I will burn with brightness
And I know the reason why
Because I do not think the world
Is unhappy at its core
And I do not think as humans
That we cannot fight for more
We have conquered some diseases
We have learned to sail the sky
We can speak across all boarders
And we fail but still we try
For the good moments aren't just moments
The light is just as strong as dark
If you see the world a little with me
The I will share with you my spark
It's a tale you've heard a thousand times
It's a tale you've never heard before
It's where I've come from and who I am
And me figuring out what I'm here for
I was born, I grew tall
I studied, I got a job
I did things the same as you all
Made me just one of the mob
But just because we were all born
That doesn't mean it wasn't a journey
We all experience the night and the morn
So we all say "it doesn't concern me"
We are all unique, we call a different place home
We all take a separate path on this earth
But every step forms us, even if not just our own
We are still defined by those things we share since birth
We are alone, together.
We move different directions in a crowd
You are yourself, that's true forever
But it's ok to have shared an experience, and still be proud
I began at my beginning
But I'll do my best not to end at my end
This world will soon outlast me
There will still be a future to defend
So let me leave a legacy
Not of wealth and gold
But of selfless acts of kindness
And of tales to be told
I hope that in my studies
I advance what we know a little
I hope I built people up
Rather than trying to belittle
I hope that with my poems
I can raise a spirit that's in need
That the words I'm writing now
Can build and they can breed
So that all that I have done
And all that I will ever do
Will maybe inspire someone
And that someone could be you
For a legacy is grand to tell the tale of a man
But it's best when it invests in a new story, if it can
(Can prelude with some random beatboxing or tapping out rhythm on random objects)
Sometimes in life, I feel like I'm *happy beatbox*
Other times, I'm feeling a bit more funky like *jazz beat box*
Then, occasionally, I have to take it a little bit slower like *sad beat box*
But often I'm just feeling lost like *beat box where the final beat is uncertain*
Sometimes the best doesn't sound right on your tongue
It doesn't feel like it comes from the air in you lungs
But this isn't a poem about the right *b* or *k* or *p* or *ts* or any of those
It's a poem about finding you beats and finding your flows
Not about solving a tune to be academically true
But about finding the rhythm inside of you
it is *hard* to find your tempo
your timing
your intensity
But you do have it! be honest with yourself, you do have it!
Have you never felt yourself moving to a song?
Said a sentence that resonates?
Or had the urge to grab a pair of sticks
and hit them against some objects
just to hear what noise it makes?
I like to imagine a world where we all make our own drum kits
and every drum kit is made out of random objects
but they're things that resonate with us
things that snare us
build up our base
put skin in the game
are symbols of what we care about
and how we want the world to hear us
we don't learn how to make our own drum kits in school
if we are taught, it's like this :
Today, class, we are learning standard timings on standard kits
and some people are going to sound great on the kits the world has decided are standard
it's important to learn the basics
but we aren't going to have time or budget to teach you more than that
...some people never learn it's possible to make their own noise at all
wherever you're at in life, I hope you find your drumkit
I hope you get a chance to play it, as loud as you like sometimes!
I hope you all never forget that feeling of listening to someone who has found their own drumkit, and how cool they seem
you're going to want to take their role set, but you must resist the temptation
take a break or a high hat but you must create something uniquely your own
just, if you take anything from this, don't stop anyone from building something, even if it doesn't seem like a good arrangement
and build your own.
listen to other people because advice is good
but reject advice occasionally too
experiment
make random noises that shouldn't work
but just might
but only for you
make a drumkit no one else can make
and play it like only you can.
and then, let the world hear you play.
As a young academic who was learning his craft
I was once assigned a near-impossible task
My superior knew it, though they wore a stoic mask
As they asked me to define with only a hint of a laugh:
What is love?
Now the humour here is clearly twofold
Baby don't hurt me, but I believe it's a lyric of old
But also, well, what am I meant to write?
This answer eludes academics all day and night
See, there is not an atom of love we've yet detected
It does not seem a disease, though you can be infected
The force of love can be felt but not measured
Love can break in a second or spend decades unweathered
We can claim it's simply a biological drive
Love only exists as a means to survive
Or chemically find oxytocin vasopressin the brain
But to claim this is love would be slightly insane
So, what then?
Well, I feel that, as an academic, love is best served
By acknowledging that its effects can be simply observed
But not just by recording attraction and affection
Instead more broadly defining it by a connection
As more than just lust and acting passionately
Love is what allows people to act irrationally
To love is to sacrifice, for once the seeds are sown
Love allows you to put another's needs before your own
It is what makes us do the washing up, even when we tire
Love is second jobs and letting old interests expire
Love is making a fool of yourself to get a smile from someone "feeling fine"
Love is being willing to put every aspect of yourself on the line
What is love?
I returned to my superior with these odd results to present
Love is weird to observe, it doesn't often make sense
Love could be smaller than atoms but it's a force like no other
Love is when you would lay down your life for another
***
Inspiration - John 15v13: No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life
it is what it means to care
to believe with all your heart
though at times you may be broken
it is better still to start
it is easy to be cynical
to hate with a heart of stone
you will still hear us faithful whisper
that one day, it will come home
***
Written on the evening of another England Men's team loss
Do you want to know one of the odder life lessons I've learned?
It's that confidence is a really useful trait
That ability to convince yourself of your own abilities
It helps you to achieve beyond anything else
But, well, also it's good to be able to recognise it
To see the tell-tale signs of a confident human
It allows me to appreciate this admirable trait
But also, well, helps me make sure I don't confuse it for something else
The loudest person in a room is rarely the wisest
The most loyal is not always the first to shake hands
Intelligence can take so many forms
Talents do not always reveal themselves to the holder
It is one of the most beautiful things in life
When someone who isn't confident feels emboldened
A hesitant trust in the circumstances before them
A new step that is not taken lightly
So be confident! If you can.
You might well be stronger than you think
Just remember confidence is powerful.
And power can be used in many ways.
So if you are blessed with confidence
Be confident in others. Share your gift
Beneath this place of grass and stone
Beneath the field, beneath the home
There lies a world we never see
An infusion of geology and history
Deep deep down and then some more
There lies a molten magma core
Rocks and dirt and then some soil
Surely too deep down for us to spoil?
Sadly our reach is further than we think
There's no depths to which we cannot sink
We all create waste in many places
Taken away on a weekly basis
Taken where? where did it go?
Be honest now, do you know?
Dumped somewhere that barely shows
To slowly, quickly, decompose
Gases will rise, liquids go down
The stones beneath us start to drown
Those waterways that irrigate our crops?
Pollution does not make it stop
Combine with pits and pipes and quarry
It forms a tale to make us worry
Of the scale of human wastage on repeat
For those brave enough to look beneath our feet
***
Written at a St Nick's Environmental workshop focussing on waste
the wilderness is wild
untamed, like a child
but similar to the young
there's much it can become
you can tame it in a way
form tomorrow from today
just be careful, as you do
not to turn the wilderness into you
***
A 100-second poem, written at a St Nick's Environmental workshop
I just want to feel like I belong
But also that I'm not trapped
That I fit in with the crowd
Without feeling like it all could collapse
Because I like to change
I like to be strange
I like my habits
I hope it
Can keep me
Emphatic
And loving the things that I love
While finding new things to also love
I'm ok with breaking the mould
Flowing as fate's fingers unfold
I want to feel like I belong
But labels don't seem to stick to me
I want to join others in song
I just struggle to stick to a symphony
While the crowd that I'm in
Keeps on harmonizing
Such a beautiful tune
I might get it soon
But my tempo
Is solo
And I don't want it to be
I just want to feel like I belong
I've known people pushing pens through the passage of their lives
I've seen some who strive for husbands, some who strive for wives
Others counting coins like they're trying to cash in a high score
It's like we're all searching for a special something that won't leave us wanting more
Look, I'm sympathetic to a cause but I'm done pausing with no purpose
Cause I know what villains lurk within a life of feeling worthless
I ain't gonna pretend I'm deducing how to be producing a solution
I'm just a fellow sinner friend searching for some sort of absolution
If there is an equation I don't think I'm equal to the answer
I'm just messing around trying to lessen all the inequality
I'm mis-stepping among the stars, no partner to the cosmic dancer
Quavering a tune that I'm not sure was ever meant for me
I can't judge folk who find salvation, even if I don't agree with where they found it
We're all just floating specks of dust who are scared of being grounded
Pretending we can fly so we don't feel foolish when we fall
Thinking we've found everything if we find anything at all
It's tiring, that driving force to find a purpose that's been steering us since birth
Maybe you're already worthy. Just by persisting on this Earth
I hate those times when your brain doesn't feel like yours
You're tired, you're ill, you're hungry
You're not you
You can't solve problems you usually solve
You can't tackle the day to day
You can't focus, can't get energy
Touch your arm. It's still yours.
The legs seem the same unless they get pins and needles
There's still the same scars from past incidents
The hair may be messy but it's definitely yours
It's just, inside the head
There's a dissociation occurring
There's a disconnect
The instructions don't come as quick
The nervous highway is... just...
Coordination isn't...
I want to be clever here.
But the lines aren't coming.
I want to feel like me again.
It is only in the realm of plant and toad
That one can take the less-walked road
The streets of men? They do not waver
They do not bend like paths of nature
All designed by careful planner
Formed by ruler, map, and scanner
Designed to help the traffic flow
To quickly quickly help you go
the boulevards among the plants
will still help you to advance
but in a slightly more holistic way
that does not count seconds in the day
formed by a committee that will never meet
the earth streets appear beneath their feet
yet you can ignore it all if you choose to
and start a natural path that's just for you
Sometimes I feel sad that I can't see more in green
That it all blurs together when I see a scene
For though Nature paints a picture with whites and browns and blue
There can never be a doubt about Nature's favourite hue
The green atop a canopy will always see the sun
The green upon the ground is a green that's just begun
The green upon a stem or even the green upon a leaf
They all tell different tales that are nigh beyond belief
There is such beauty and such stories in all these colours mean
Such a pity that my eyes will still see them all as green
***
Written at a St. Nick's Nature Workshop
are there any relations like those formed at 3am
twixt sober and hungover, twixt stranger and friend
the world is not right, and neither are you
things are rarely this raw, this honest, this true
you've both done things of which you're not really proud
things the waking world would not have allowed
and you're talking in a way your mouth often forbids
with a little slurring and with half-open eyelids
it is therapy for those too scared to admit that's something they need
it is sharing too much, the destruction of greed
even though in the real morning you'll be filled with shame
you'll look back and may not remember their name
right now you're both sat with back to grimy walls and the smell of stale piss
right now you don't care, right now this is bliss
because in this lonely world you've finally dropped your protection
because in this lonely world you've finally made a connection
I want you to know I care for you
But I'm scared of coming off too strong
I want them to you I care for you
But I don't want you to prove me wrong
Guard strong, my feelings!
Don't be swayed by passion this day
Guard strong, my feelings!
Don't let your traitorous heart betray
Society wont let you be open
Vulnerability is not a valued trait
Should I be closed forever then?
Or, for how long should I wait?
No, no, fuck all that toxicity
The feeling I can't act openly
I will talk compassionately
I will live with honesty
Hey. You are special to me.
And also to other people too.
We love you unconditionally.
Just for being you.
I'm chasing the high again
The high of repeating where I've already been
showing I'm good at going where I've already gone
in travelling a journey that I already know
and, well, it is fun
and it is satisfying
I've spent a lot of time learning these roads
and I know almost everything about them
so here's the thing
there is virtue in mastery
in learning that last final turn
in tiny optimisations
but, well, I think the time might have come
to learn a new way
and it will be a struggle
and I will be a beginner again
yet it is only by starting that new route that I will learn something truly new
it is only be stepping outside the town that I have built for myself that I will see another way the streets can be arranged
and I may not stay in that new place long, it may not be the right fit or be the wrong type of challenge
but, if done right, the city I knew will look a little different when I finally return
I will one day step back on that familiar road
but in a different way than I did before
I'm trying to focus, trying to write
trying to rhyme but things aren't right
there's noise and chatter and coughing and chiming
there's a family of five, and someone else crying
each word that I wrangle to rest on the page
it's an awesome achievement on this sonorous stage
because the dog is barking, a grandma is whining
it's the sound of hundreds of people unwinding
all played to the soundtrack of inoffensive pop
all of it designed to make my lines stop
so I leave
I go for a walk
I slowly breath
no need to talk
I love conversation
just not all the time
I need hesitation
and the space between rhyme
but it's time to turn
there's work to repay
I will once more return
to the noise of the day
They think it's a culture war when it should be a culture conversation
They think they need an army when we just want deliberation
Yes I understand that the world today has seemed to change
But it's ok to live somewhere that some parts of it seem strange
It's not asking you to get on board and take part in every dance
And there are honest conversations about the right way to advance
But you seem to want to turn one side of society to mist
When all that side is really wanting is simply to exist
Not every film has to be for you. not every book, not every song
I understand that we all need a place we feel that we belong
But that place is not everywhere, every place, all the time
People who are different should not be thought of as a crime
And while there are nuances such as beliefs that cause others harm
And while I'm not suggesting we should all walk arm in arm
I will stake my claim that we should not wage a culture war attack
Although if one side brings the fight, the other must unfortunately fight back
A one-sided war will only ever end in a certain way
What do you think will come of this artillery display?
Yet I know there are those who wish us to share seats at a table
You are but one person, but please, join us if you're able.
What a gift we have in history
To record the days gone by
Rely on more than the electricity
That flows behind the eye
To not be just moments
Single points on a line
To unanchor our events
To spread them across time
Then read a page millennia old
A glimpse into the past
Revisit a tale worth being told
Be grateful such tales last
Learn from errors never seen
Study cities that are long gone
Decipher what some ciphers mean
To guide us as we go on
Appreciate those who came before
Relate to people you'll never know
We have history's power in our paw
Though we are but fish within its flow
There is a rhythm on this Earth
There is a beat that flows
Some people dance from birth
And follow where it goes
And, well, then there's other people
And by other people I do also mean me
Who don't feel this beat at all
We don't hear the symphony
But I can dance to it sometimes
Just for a little while
I can translate the rhymes
I can be in denial
Then I will fall back
Grateful for what I could do
Do you hear the track?
Do you dance to it too?
There is virtue to your own way
But it's tough to do forever
So let's find our beat today
And dance to it together
I may be a fool, but I believe there is good in this life
That there is kindness, there is hope, and reasons to kind through the strife
For it's only by believing in things that seem unlikely or bizarre
That I can even believe a heart can heal from its scar
I believe that tomorrow will always fight through the hardest today
That the moon and the Sun will dance across the Milky Way
I stupidly hope you will always be there to see it with me
If you feel like you're falling off the Earth, we can hold hands if need be
It isn't always easy to be a hopeful presence
It can be a sad world, hard for such ideas to survive
To be a fool in spite of evidence?
To keep believing, keep the faith alive?
I will do it alone. But why not be foolish with me?
Let's keep believing in a better world in spite of what we see
Let's light up a path to see where it will lead
Let's be naïve together, taking turns if we need
December was long this year
it seemed to last til May
coldness cut the stone
the temperature was grey
shadows appear deeper
walls seem to shiver
grass resists each step
do not trust the river
When the daffodils sprout
winter melts away
the yellow on the hill
marks a special day
morning has slowly come
the birds begin to sing
colour is no longer hidden
York has entered spring
It's hard to believe in a thing I can't see
A Spirit so sweet yet seeped in secrecy
Which is not to say I believe It isn't there
Just that the task's tough. And that I really do care.
I do find it easy to think of the Son
The human, the Saviour, the mortal one
He took form, then He spoke to us here
There's historical records that still persevere
The Father, He's harder, but still I get by
Not necessarily thinking of a Man in the sky
But still as a Being in some manna, some fire
Even if He dwells in the fourth dimension or higher
But the Spirit? Being honest, I just find it's tough.
Maybe it's me, maybe I'm just not spiritual enough.
I'll keep fighting for faith, wondering if I'm missing the call.
I'm just another sinner seeking salvation from the Fall.
I feel...I feel like I'm genuine
but sometimes in a way people don't recognise
so they think I must be faking
that I must be hiding finding
which, well, makes me not want to be genuine any more
but I will continue to be
and I will have to endure rumours
and I will have to ignore gossip
and, honestly, sometimes I might have to adapt a little
because there will be other genuine people who don't fit in
I want them to not hide away either
this world is richer if we can all be a little bit different
so I will still be myself
as much as I can be
the genuine, authentic, me. and no one else.
sometimes I wonder, do the right words exist for this moment?
the right string of sounds
that can make a bad day into a good day
to let someone know they are cared for
to stop the tears
to put the start of a smile on a face
we are not math problems
there is no solution that works for everyone
sometimes a weird sentence is needed
something unexpected
it can be obvious words too
or even barely any words at all
look, maybe you need the right words today
and just, whatever they are
if they exist
I hope you find them
"TERFs are the new punk!!", apparently.
According to an X-Twitter trend.
I want to disagree inherently.
If feels wrong. Cheap. Pretend.
Maybe they are the new punk though?
Or, "new punk" to be specific.
The punk that sold out long ago.
The punk that just liked the aesthetic.
Punk written by middle-class TV writers who don't understand.
Who think punk was just butter adverts, rebellion, and spiky hair.
That a punk is someone who just whines their demand.
Sure, TERFs can call themselves "new punk", that's fair.
Trans is what punk was. Still is, in the right grimy venue.
The unwanted tune. The discordant strum.
The vocals that can only come from a downtrodden view.
The ground roots thrashing of the drum.
Punk stands for something, not just in opposition.
The anger are the fruit but passion forms the trunk.
Leaving me to only one natural position:
You can keep the new, but Trans is the old punk.
"Without dark, there can be no light"
An interesting quote on which to embark
But while some see this as hope for bright
Others see it as a sign to fight for dark
I'm sure you've met them, in some way
Those who live their life by odd decree
"Life isn't fair", they will often say
As if unfairness is their philosophy
See, the world is rough, that much is true
I don't think we'll ever change that fact
But we can set those scales more askew
Bring more light that we once lacked
It can take a bold and peculiar mind.
To find your purpose in being kind.
I didn't know the last song
I wont know the one after
But this one right here
This one is joy and laughter
This is music in each vein
It's a rhythm in my heart
A "hell yeah" from the brain
My arms begin to dart
There's that tune I love to hear
The words I'll never forget
A beat I dance to without fear
Even if they're moves I should regret
I didn't know the last song
I wont know the one after
But this one right here
This one is joy and laughter
I saw bridges with legs like nails of iron
Rooting the city into the rugged landscape
Lit with neon to form a calm ambience
That the mist quelled lest it get too ambitious
The river does not rush, but it is still powerful
The concrete ribbons allow for moderate-to-easy traversal
Yet it will not have been lain down without resistance
A temporary truce, that nature will claim again some day
It is foolish to think we can tame nature
It is unwise to try to make it submit
Like the stream finds a route through stone
So too should we embed our fossils in this world
There is a beauty to humanity, the trail we lead
There is a beauty to nature, who reclaims all paths
Sometimes I'm popular
Sometimes I'm not
Always I'm odd
And rarely forgot
Sometimes harmonic
Sometimes discordant
I feel the same
Yet received different
Sometimes I'm tired
Sometimes I get energy
A group can be friendly
Other times it is lonely
So I'll hold on through the times when I diverge from the core
And treasure deeply the times that leave me wanting more
I wish I could play music
That I could string up a tune
That I could take the words I write
And give them a whole new boon
I love listening to wordsmiths
With music behind the lines
Raising up the verses
Giving life to the rhymes
The perfect pop star melody
The earnest folk devotion
The raw punk rock growl
All dripping with emotion
But I know how much skill is in those notes
I wont play down the time it would require
So I'll keep working on improving my craft
In case I find someone musical to inspire
This year, I started performing poetry again. I got to rediscover old poems by learning them, tweaking them slightly, and giving them life on stage. It was a good year. Especially since I've now been writing for over a decade!
I kept writing too. Here are some of my favourites.
I wrote two poems this year inspired by the musical styling of Hotel Brooks and Listener, who are bands with this really cool semi-shouting raw vocals that I really wanted to learn to emulate myself. It's always a good thing when words seem to flow naturally, and I really do think it's a new form that I can explore even more.
She could never believe she was beautiful (directly inspired by the themes and rhythms)
To be trees (taking the rhythms, trying to make something new)
A big poetry thing for me this year was starting to perform again (shot out to York Howlers). The way their nights work, I've been focused on memorising and perfecting some, but also giving a second chance to some slightly rougher work, depending on what the mood is that week. Then again, even knowing I'm going to be performing has got me exploring the rhythm of poetry again in a way I think I've let slide a little bit.
How to make the perfect Victoria sponge (an earlier poem in the year I revisited)
I'm feeling a rhyme (a poem written with performance in mind)
I had a little bit of a rough year stress-wise. So some of my way of dealing with that is always going to come out in the poetry. The idea of knowing that things wont always go well and how to deal with it is something that was big on my mind.
You can never behave perfectly (accepting imperfection)
I am a fixer, I swear (the need for redemption)
One thing I will always love is conversations with people. I love discovering a new group of friends and having that feeling of easy conversation flow. Conversations can seem like a very small part of our day-to-day, but they can also be very major things in our life. The latter poem is dedicated to a very particular conversation.
Why we Smile (a conversation-style poem)
Words on Wind (dedicated to Tim Keller)
I started to realise how impactful some of the things I do are this year, to the point I'm really catching myself in decisions where I'd be happy to let things flow before. And there is a balance - times when it's good to recognise those moments. These are also two poems with very different forms an inspirations - the first inspired by a night core song with <1000 views, and the second one of the first four-line poems I let myself do (after 10+ years of writing, I no longer feel like I'm cheating if I write a short poem).
A moment (night core inspired song)
The task ahead (an actual short poem)
This might be an odd opinion
But I like that Christmas isn't only for Christians.
We Christians can still have our nativity
Our bible readings
And our joy in a saviour's birth
But I like that everyone has a reason to feel happy
A lot of Christian things I see in mainstream
I feel a little bit ashamed of.
Christians insisting people follow their morals
Discriminating against those who don't
Not showing us as lambs following a shepherd
Not showing that we love our neighbours
So, take your Santa dressed up in red
Enjoy your John Lewis adverts
Spend time with family
Give presents, even bad ones
Sing along to a variety of songs less than a century old
Embrace every part of Christmas you enjoy
Let's share in the parts of this holiday we both like
And maybe I have this extra part too
And maybe you have traditions from elsewhere
But let's both take a celebration of togetherness
Let's both feel cheer
And be festive in an otherwise cold part of the year
Sometimes, I can't help but be an observer
I can't let myself go in the moment
Years of critical training take over
Searching my memories for precedent
I think furiously of theory
Does this exist within my worldview?
Do I need to adjust my philosophy?
What aspects of this are new?
I struggle to see what is really there
Just the product of what people have done
And, well, I need to make myself care
To let myself be what the moment asks I become
And the critic? As long as they're quiet they can stay
Their time will come, but that time is later in the day
Shout out to misfits
To people who don't fit in
But also who don't mind not fitting in
Because fitting in would mean not being yourself
It's not that we're hostile
We're just ok being who we are
And who we are seems weird to some people
And, well, we love weird. We embrace it, being different.
So, we're outcasts then
In fact, we're a whole community of them
We are all alike in being a little bit odd, I guess
We're different from each other, but, like, different-jigsaw-pieces different
And well we may not all technically be from the same jigsaw
But we're all ok making some abstract art together
We may change our shape and pattern but
We'll always be misfits
It can be lonely
This journey through life
It can be scary
And filled with strife
Look, I know you're busy
Doing all those things you do
Surviving, living
And just, well, being you
If you need, reach out
I try not to turn people away
At worst, I reschedule
To a shared non-hectic day
So please, please don't be silent
After all, it can be so fun to yell
I can't guarantee help
But together, we can struggle well
"Do not give in to avarice"
I tell myself once more
"Do not give in to avarice"
It is oft a one-way door
"Do not give in to avarice"
The temptation is so strong
"Do not give in to avarice"
Would it really be so wrong
It would save much fear
To just give in to greed
The chance is always near
To take what others need
Take what I want first
Before any question why
Begin the endless thirst
I know will never die
"Do not give in to avarice"
I tell myself once more
"Do not give in to avarice"
It is oft a one-way door
***
Inspiration: Avarice by David Fenn, from Death's Door
There's a moment, there's always a moment
When you choose what sort of person you are
A quiet voice speaks up, and asks you
Are you willing to go this far?
Is this you? Is it right?
You know what this means
You are not stupid
It is not too late
We don't always react well
We have all failed some moments
Learned about ourselves
In a way we didn't always want to
There is sometimes another moment
If you make it there, I beg you, set things right
***
Inspiration: my worthless life - not good enough by my head hurts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5EHwPVC3tw
So, I keep on going
Even without motivation
Even without pay
I keep on writing
On calculating
On processing
My mind doesn't rest
I can't just stop
Until I feel "done"
The picture is growing
Connecting dots
Drawing lines
I am not logical
I am not artificial
I'm often not intelligence
I am human
I was already travelling
So, I keep on going
It's ok to walk away from a battle
Even if you think you can win
You don't need to test your mettle
Or give your armour a spin
Lose, sometimes
Congratulate the victor
The War Bell chimes
And you can neglect her
You may find joy in fights
But it might make you hostile
Leave some sleepless nights
You wont get past in a while
So, walk away
Not because you're weak
Because it's a nice day
And you'd like it to be a nice week
My writing is a ritual, my rhyming is a rhythm
My pen is pointed poignantly to put it in a prism
To split the sacred scattered scrawls and to see the strange inside
This telepathy is telling me it's time to trust the tide
So with worship to the words the wind within the wind
I sacrifice a splinter of my soul to start this sin
I chatter out the chants to achieve a chance ahead
And dare to dive into the depths that drive us all to dread
The ritual it rises and wraps ribbons in a wreath
Capturing the cascade of cacophonies beneath
Don't tamper with the traps it'll tear you now in twain
Believe your brain can best it or it'll be your bane
Dealing with devices that can drive despair and desire
But also allow an author to accept an inner fire
Finalising flames to forge phrases before they've flown
At last your left with a lick of lines that you call your own
How does the world turn?
What causes it to spin?
If we cracked the earth open
Would we find the gears within?
Questions often have answers
And some of them are dull
In a quickly moving life
Don't be afraid to mull
Imagine a society of elves within
That set things in motion below the crust
Opine about a lava powered engine
That produces too much thrust
Your phone will still be there
If you're still curious about what's true
And maybe you actually figured it out!
Or maybe you learn something new
But I tend to find I appreciate the answer more
If I've spent some time on a wrong answer or four
And yes, it can be dull. Or a thing I knew and then forgot
But often I find it worth it, for the joy I feel when it's not
I want challenge, but not to compete
I want to achieve a fantastic feat
But I don't want to then knock someone else down
To only achieve a smile by giving another a frown
I don't think it's bad to want credit for success
Even if it might be healthy to want it a little less
Like, it's good to feel like I've made things better
I shouldn't then need that written down in a letter
But beyond that, if the victory is always over another
It will separate even a sister and brother
You'll feel good about their fall, not just your rise
And that's a feeling I really despise
Competition can be fun and even good for the health
But it's still something I think I need to watch in myself
Talk well, and talk long
Talk in hushed tones, talk in song
But let the conversation flow
Into places you don't always go
Find those souls with which you gel
Who disagree and still wish you well
Those with whom you don't notice time
Enjoy both the ridiculous and sublime
I enjoy these moments with a passion
You can talk about subjects out of fashion
Be open, free, and yet have trust
Until your eyes begin to crust
And, then evening late or even early morn
You part until the next time the talk is born
Be creative out loud and on purpose
Without listening to anyone who tells you no
Because you've been listening to "No"s for far too long
And who knows what you could achieve with some "Yes"s instead?
So dance among raindrop that send others inside
Sing for the ears in fields of corn
Write on paper, on pixels, on your skin if you need
It's time to stop stopping yourself
Because there are people out there who want to hear you
And there are spaces waiting for your voice
There will always be time to rest and be quiet
There will always be time catch your breath
It doesn't matter if you're out of practice
But it's important to give it your all
For now, find a place and be unashamed
And let your creative soul be free at last
now hold on just a second because I'm feeling a rhyme
it might take a minute but I'll get it in time
so hold on with me and well see where to go
let me follow and scheme for the direction of flow
your see I'm a, ink-on-page addict who's addict to art
there's no greater blood rush than touching a heart
I once was a cynic but now I'm out of denial
about how I live for the tear and I live for the smile
it's a, strange thing to trust in some lines
to follow a thread through twists and winds
but for, those who the rush is a must in a brand new verse
you better follow for better least you leave it for worse
poetry is absurd, I know this to be true
but I'll follow it still, I hope you will to
the journey will always have it's prose and rhyme
the only choice you have is whether to give it time
***
Written before the Holwer's Poetry night in York
I was always a younger sibling
So emitted younger sibling energy
I gave the impression of someone
Without much responsibility
And while I did eventually take some on
And tackled such tasks with great aplomb
And learned overtime what it's like to grind
I can't help but ponder something on my mind
Would I be a different person
What I recognise myself as me?
If I was someone with younger siblings
And had a childhood with more responsibility?
Would I feel more peer pressure and begin to drink?
Would I be more constrained in how I dress and think?
Would I be better with time and better manage each hour?
Would I understand more what it's like to have power?
It's not like a desire, just a curiosity
And not something I'm thinking about too practically
But in a world of what-ifs where I work out my worth
I wonder if some things were fixed from my birth
Dear Reader,
I'm sorry. Harry's brain is out of office this week.
If your desire for poetry is urgent, please peruse any of the existing catalogue.
If you desire a new poem, you can try to reach Harry's brain directly
but
well
Harry himself is struggling to do that right now.
We do apologise for the inconvenience.
We hope this message will tide you over for a short while.
Remember, too much poetry can lead to flights of fancy, escapism, and a broadening of your horizons.
As such, it's ok to take breaks yourself from reading poetry too.
Many thanks for your understanding.
Hoping to be back next week.
Harry
I'm fascinated by philosophy as fast fashion
Here, let me put on a communist coat!
Wear it out a little to give it equal wear
And then return it later with a note.
I don't feel I need a utilitarian umbrella
To take out just when it begins to rain
To justify bad things for a little while
Before putting it away again
A capitalist cap can be perfect for high society
To blend in for a free market fete
Just to change to a nihilist neckwear
For a collective night time debate
I'm a hypocrite at times, but my outfit doesn't change much
Even if it clashes, I try to make it me
A genuine article in every item
No trends. No trying to blend. Just, as far as I can, honesty.
Sometimes things end up down to the wire
And they nearly don't get done
I wonder if a project is unfinished
That it would be better if it were never begun?
I don't think so. Even unfinished work has value.
Alright, maybe not for the work itself
But the process of creating the scaffolding
Or the parts that can be reused on a shelf
With that said, it is still better to push through
To meet the deadline, even after time
Finish that thing for that thing is you
And you don't want to be an unpaired rhyme
Yes, it may be rough. It can be sanded later on.
But you did it. You finished. On this particular task - you won.
The calm before
the storm that may not come
It's nothing more
than a stress that's pre-begun
So knuckle down
against the possibility ahead
Go to town
in letting your worries spread
So don't be sad
until you actually start to fall
It may be bad
or, well, it may be nothing at all
I am the content I consume
I am the movies and TV shows
I am the books I am the games
And all the social media flows
I am more than that, too
I am an algorithm inside
But those are my ingredients
That form the tears I cried
The way I tell my jokes
Maybe even the way I laugh
The stories that live within me
Make up my better half
But I want to be myself
To live beyond the tale
So I chose what lives within me
And I make myself prevail
Sometimes, I don't believe in me
Like, I know how narrowly I got past some challenges
How tightly I managed to hit certain goals
The luck on which a lot of my fortune hinges
How I've hung on through life's twists and rolls
Sometimes, I don't believe in me
But I know that others do
I've realised that some do trust what I can achieve
Regardless of whether I trust myself
I must live up to that even if it means I deceive
And put my feelings into stealth
Sometimes, I don't believe in me
But I know that others do
I'll try to be the best I can be
And be honest if I trust in you
Here's the thing about AI. It's not a robot intelligence.
It's not another thinking, reasoning, emotional being.
AI makes are think there's some kind of sinister
Some new evolution that we are just now seeing
It's not. It's a lot of things, but that's not it.
We are not yet at the singularity.
The tipping point for the future robotic?
For now we are still just stuck with humanity.
And that's it. AI is humans. But it's humans with a new tool.
There's a lot of maths and parameters to unlock new ideas.
To the optimist in me, this quite frankly seems cool.
But this bright new future also comes with a lot of fears.
The tool that is AI is very tempting to the humans in power
Or the grifter who wants to be creative without the work
To the general who wants to make their enemies cower
To any human we could politely describe as a twerp or jerk
AI could be used to give us more free time in a day
There are intriguing creative uses of the mathematic
But those jerk humans make the future far more grey
Rather than one which could end up being fantastic
So let's not forget the enemy going into the future
We aren't fighting a hivemind made of sparks and transistors
It's humans again, just armed with a computer
So let's be intelligent when we rise up as resistors
I know I shouldn't rush
That folly falls in haste
But I worry if I wait
That I will let things waste
I want to perform
But I haven't done so recently
I could feel forlorn
Since I do perform quite decently
There's little time
And I fill it with so much stuff
So a spoken rhyme
Often feels like it isn't enough
I need a crowd
Of people who think a bit like me
So I'm allowed
It does not do to force poetry
I know some exist
That part took a fair while to do
Now I must persist
And make myself find the energy too
I want to make sure that I'll always accept
That causes are happening to enact an effect
The world-that-is is not the world-that-was
And thus world-that-will-be will become because
of the passage of time that occurs to us all
As surely as raindrops both glisten and fall
And so I must never be stuck in the present day
Since today doesn't often happen to stay that way
So with people, too, I must remember they grow
Sometimes into a person I no longer know
And I must accept them for who they now are
Even if my first reaction is they seem now bizarre
Because what is strange to me today may not be tomorrow
So to avoid being a person who will cause someone sorrow
Or pen someone in because I can't imagine so grand
Let me try to always accept, even if I can't understand
I don't know how I'll get past the task before me
But I know I someday will
And I think that is of some comfort to me
While I struggle at it still
***
I normally don't write poems this short - by making myself write a poem a week, short poems seem cheating somehow. But the more I thought about it, the more I considered it complete. So take this overly long explanation as proof I had more words, they just didn't seem right here. And maybe I've written enough now to allow myself more short poems in future.
If there is a day of judgement
Where my deeds are lain out before me
I wonder if I will get a say
To try to justify how I used to be
It would feel fairer to make a speech
A great diatribe about my life
The why and what and how and why
Just a chance to lift my strife
But, well, I know some who spin lies of gold
And I do not enjoy that craft
Maybe some of them could change their fate
And tell tales after as they laughed
I'm learning, recently, there is a trade
It's often better to be sorry than right
I have caused pain. Not much I hope.
I used to justify myself into the night
But now? I've changed, I think.
It's ok to make mistakes. Even big ones sometimes.
And if there is a final day, I wish to accept that.
Not just be another lost soul arguing crimes
Alright, it's maintenance day
Time to stock up in case of repair
Nothings broken - quite yet anyway
But it just has that feel in the air
The engine's been slow to respond
The joints have been groaning too
Sadly there is no magic wand
No WD40 and no super glue
Just time off to stop things getting worse
Maybe stretch a few pieces as well
Go out for a test run with no purpose
Ensure it wont break apart if it fell
It's maintenance day, so if you're low on traction
Don't wait for things to break before you take action
***
Inspiration: Motorcycle, No Motor? by Free Throw
I can't talk with people after they die
But I have talked with people before they die
And I carry that conversation with me
An echo in my head that will always be
They can't say anything new
I don't know everything they knew
But I do sometimes hear their word in a new light
A recollection that makes a memory shine extra bright
If I share their word further, maybe it'll outlive me too
An echo of an echo so powerful it will still echo through
I can think of no greater tribute to someone's word
Than to allow their message to continue to be heard
***
Dedicated to Tim Keller
I had some great things planned
but, for now, I need to rest
I was to make a stand
to cause some righteous unrest
I wanted to go out
meet a friend or two
I felt the need to shout
until my face went blue
I had to sit and write
until my work was done
I wished to make things right
but I had not yet begun
I sadly understand
the actions that are best
I had some great things planned
but, for now, I need to rest
Why is it, anyway, that we go to school?
To do a life's worth of learning while trying to act cool?
Well I'm still figuring out "cool", doing that in my own style
And I ain't done learning, not by a long mile
Maths is more than counting time until the lesson is done
It's supposed to be the starting point from which you begun
Grammatically life taught me to never leave my claws open
So is there a limit to what I'm supposed know then?
My lessons taught me how to tell francophones I don't know French
In school sports, I learned how to entertain myself on the bench
But I wanna do more, I wanna progress further
I wanna light brighter fires than just a Bunsen burner
Geography is so much bigger now I can actually travel
The creative arts help my stresses to unravel
I've discovered interesting history - and my place within
But the only way to start this journey was to end school, then begin
It's hard work. With homework. But at least no detention.
And the dress code is one of your own invention.
There's a world out there. It's not always easy to figure out.
So let's get learning what the real world is actually about.
No time passes us by
Quite like it does for a young child
Each year is more important
Each time we cried, each time we smiled
We grow. Not jut metaphorically.
We actually grow! Legs and arms and all the rest.
Learning and developing
Not master of anything. Just trying our best.
We didn't see it at the time
The fact we were changing was just a fact we accepted
We were pretty much the same each day
Not reflecting on the change that had been infected
Each school year is different in my head
I was doing so much and discovering new things
More recent years I sometimes look back
And it can feel like I clipped my wings
I think I am still growing. I just don't realise it right now.
And when I look at young folk it becomes clearer somehow
Growing isn't natural now, but it's still something I want to do
Life, and not just childhood, is something I want to grow through
When trees grow
They can't leave their spot
Their stuck with their neighbours
Growing forever with only the same companions
And I don't think we were meant to be trees
I don't think we were meant to stay planted
Eating the same food
Drinking the same water
Not mattering whether we're content with things staying the same
Because things are going to stay the same regardless of whether we want them or not
But, well, that's not to say it's all bad
There's good things to staying still sometimes
We aren't stuck with our neighbours
But it's nice to have long term friends
We can try different foods
But it's ok to have some favourites
See, we're not trees
At least, I don't think we were meant to be
But that doesn't mean we should uproot for the sake of uprooting
Nor that we should just stay in the same spot
We are humans
And, for better or worse, we get to choose what that means
Nothing, for me, captures the inherent oddity of humanity
Than the fact we find it hard to write natural-sounding dialogue
It's something that, more or less, should come naturally
More so than any song lyrics or a dramatic monologue
Like, we practice talking most days. Sometimes even twice.
We do it without sounding forced or like a robot
We can be witty or angry or upset or nice
But when we write it down every skill is quickly forgot
Were we simply not listening every previous conversation?
Why is it hard? How is it always so awkward?
I can't answer that, but I can make this observation
Something you can perhaps take forward
Learning is hard. Sometimes we have to actively focus.
If we can't do this, what other things do we miss?
Even for something so everyday and all around us
Life is hard and ignorance isn't just bliss
But also, appreciate the skill of the masters of this craft
The efforts of the artisans who make it seem so easy
Who who wrote the lines at which we cried and laughed
And managed to be the only ones to learn a skill we all practice daily
I've been listening to history
Tales of fascists trying to take power
But not just the oft-told tales from Germany
And, well, not just from some long past hour
The Nazis were villains. Monsters.
And it's easy to spot monsters right?
And it was evil folk that let them prosper?
And they only meet at the dead of night?
No. They had families. Many went to church.
They played sport and some sung in a choir.
They weren't deformed, didn't cackle and lurch.
But they fanned flames that were just embers, high and higher.
They told sweet lies that you weren't to blame
They gave you a scapegoat, an other to attack
They made them less human, and felt no shame
They used language that seems to be coming back
Maybe we wont take this path. We could be fine.
But Ukraine shows warfare is possible, even in the "civilized" West.
History is filled with people who did cross that line.
And I'm worried we're putting that line to the test.
***
Inspired by, well, a lot of recent events. But also specifically by "Rachel Maddow Presents: Ultra", a podcast about how Nazism almost took hold in 1940s America.
This is not the beginning
The poem didn't start here
But many years before
With connections in synapses
Appreciation of rhythm
Love of language
And more besides
This poem was forged
In the heart of a heart
Through blood and sweat
Through victory and regret
Until it bubbled up
And claimed the page
It will bleed on
Inspiring more poems
But also thoughts
Maybe lost to time
Maybe rippling onwards
Being more than just words
This is not the end
It is time to take a step
You've been still for far too long
It is time to take a step
You must pretend you're strong!
It is time to take a step
It was ok to take your time
It is time to take a step
It is time to cross the line
The world does not stay still
It has moved along beside you
The world does not stay still
And now you must move too!
The world does not stay still
But you've been still long enough
The world does not stay still
And I know the path is tough
It is time to take a step
The world does not stay still
Give your feet another rep
And gather up your will
We're all broken
But we're also fixing
In little bits at little times
We may be falling apart in other places
And some bits we never get back together
But there's also pieces you were meant to let go
It's a rough world out there
You'll pick up some wear and tear
The World can shows affection in odd ways
You were never meant to be perfect
None of us were
We're just energy-infused bodies trying the best we can on any given day
Some people break us
Even when they don't mean to
Or even when trying to stitch us back together
It's the worst, if you do that to someone else
You think you can heal the damage
But you just have to let them go
It's all part of growing, living, surviving
Breaking and fixing and breaking and fixing
Until all we are is patchwork and scars
But patchwork and scars can be beautiful
They show we're trying
Even if it seems tough
All you can do is try to darn more stitches than you cause
Help out people if they break in a spot that's hard to reach
Leave a little more good in the world than when you arrived
We're all broken
But we're also fixing
In little bits at little times
The following is my advice for how to make the perfect Victoria Sponge:
open your phone
use google
type in "perfect victoria sponge".
Go from there
Sorry, I can't be anymore help than that.
I like to write poetry about many topics.
I will wax lyrical about all kinds of philosophies.
Try to answer some of the big questions of existence.
I have told long stories that opine in depth about our place in the universe.
Short ones too.
I've written so much it's a shock I haven't run out of ideas.
In the end though, I know my limit.
And while I've written about apocalypses I've never lived through,
About talking planets and trees,
About adventures in skies and seas,
And about having an idea about why it is we're actually all here,
but,
I will never be so brash
or dishonest
as to pretend to you
dear reader
that I know anything
anything at all
about the perfect Victoria Sponge.
You can never behave perfectly,
So why try at all?
You can never save everyone,
So why try at all?
You will always be doing harm,
So why try at all?
Why are you still trying?
Why haven't you given up yet?
Why are you being kind to people?
Why haven't you given up yet?
Why are you taking the hard route?
Why haven't you given up yet?
The world is not binary
Though some people see it that way
In a world of black and white
I'm trying to be a lighter grey
We are all on different journeys
We all start as a different shade
While I will never light the world
I will still do my best not to fade
And sometimes the right thing wont make a difference
But it's still important to try
Some questions don't really have any answers
But it's still worth asking why
And it's ok if you're tired
To stop, to breath, to take a rest
To settle for a world that isn't perfect
But a world in which we've tried our best
I want to make 'em laugh
I want to make 'em smile
But doin' so ain't easy
Doin' so takes a while
Writing jokes is hard
Crafting comedy is art
Sure you can copy a line
But can you create from the heart?
If the mood is right
It's not too hard to shift
But creating from nothin'?
That's the rarest gift
So here's to the easy laughers
For spreading infectious cheer
Here's to the easy smilers
You're always welcome here
And to the crafters who work hard
At the comedic word-by-word
Thank you for your pains
In your mastery of the absurd
I have wandered many times down a country lane
Across a field
Along a river
And it is rarely as beautiful as it seems in art
It doesn't have the flowing sweep of a movie B-reel
With audio enhancements to bring whisperings to life
Everything looks like itself
Not a metaphor for a deep grand philosophy
My feet squelch in mud and cow pats
It takes a long time to traverse from gate to gate
The smell of animals living, eating, and the other thing
The birds "sing". But never think to add some variety to their tune.
Well, I did say "rarely". That's not never.
There is another world there. If you look just right.
It does not come as easy to me as others.
But I am learning. I am trying. And nature seems happy to wait for me.
It's hard to know what a "friend" is these days
Not because people are fake
This isn't a personal slight against anyone
Nor even me being angry
It's just that, well, "friend" has been commodified
The corporation in your screen wants to be your "friend"
So does your boss. Your teacher.
And your local representative.
I might know online/TV personalities very well
I could tell you how they'd act in stressful situations
Or things they've shared about their personal lives
But they don't know me at all
I know people I haven't seen in years
But we'd chat for hours if we ever met again
Some I was once close to
Some I'd like to be closer to
I don't mind having "friends"
They're just different things
To real,
loving,
friends
I have friends that are hurting
Who I don't know how to heal
The pain is often hidden
But I know it is still real
I wish that I knew more medicine
Or that hugs could cure all pain
That good days always outnumber bad
Or age would not make us wain
I have friends that are hurting
Who I don't know how to heal
Sometimes all I can do is listen
So I can share the pain they feel
You see the shuffle in the hustle is that you believe in muscle
That they never break, are never fake, and always serve to make folk quake
That injury is perjury - you're just not taking this seriously
Because the grind that you find is all purely in the mind
But it's not.
It's...it's just not.
Don't get me wrong it's great to be strong and to feel like you belong
To work tough and earn enough on the strength of *your* stuff
But being flash to earn cash feels like the route to a crash
And survival of the fittest feels restrictive in what goals are then permitted
I'm not saying you shouldn't improve or find a groove
Or that it's a bad identity to build a better "me"
But the one-against-all? What happens when you fall?
What of the virtue of vulnerability? Of the safety in community?
Burnout is real. I've learned this the hard way.
To work on a problem all night and all day.
"Easy" ain't bad to indulge in for a while.
"Easy" work still needs to be done. Even if it's making a smile.
I want to work on my passions. Not on what gets me status.
I want to be me. Not just the greatest and latest.
So I can till be me when what I am is not the "in-trend"
So that I can be genuine. Myself. Not fake and pretend.
I can work sublime in the times when I do have to grind.
It's not that I'm unable to sit at the table of your fable.
I just chose instead to spend my time when breaking bread.
Crafting a path that is so non-direct it could make you laugh.
But the hustle? I've found it toxic. Not a place I want to go.
Let me build others up around me, even if I have to build slow.
she was one of those women who could never believe she was beautiful
because too many years of being told "you're never pretty enough" will do that to a girl
and that girl will blossom into a woman
who will never see herself in the mirror. Just the advert of what she could be. Maybe.
if she just tried a little harder or a little longer or was born with better genes
but she was already trying so hard and so long
and she saw the beauty in her mother or her young daughter
but couldn't see it in herself
if she was beautiful by accident on an evening
it was the lipstick or the mascara
or the expensive dress
she'd been lied too by too many men who could only see her surface beauty
and could her her closest friends when they told her in confidence about her inner beauty
she'd learned to brush off compliments and insults as jokes
because being genuine meant opening herself up to even more scars
even though her scars were beautiful too
telling a criss-cross pattern of her survival in a world that was too harsh to her
the flower that had been told she was a weed
by TV and teachers and crushes and herself.
but she was beautiful. Even if she couldn't see it.
she brought fresh air to a world of smoke
light to others even if she was in shadow
and smiles to faces only used to wearing frowns
it was those times of fresh air, light, and smiles
that she would let years of programming falter
and would manage, briefly
To believe, not just that she could one day be beautiful, but that she always had been
***
Inspiration song: July (part one) by Hotel Brooks
