Crystal Visions

He had the look of sailor

Bushy trim, inbled ink

Lips to liquid elegance

Gave me cause to think

I saw his soul

---

People passed in passing

As they passed and passed on by

I was caught from passing

By reflections in his eye

I saw his soul

---

In vino told his verity

Crystal goblet crimson stained

Identity invisible

Absent but for pain

I saw his soul

---

He mused of distant lands, he spoke

Of places he had been

Of service, home, his children

And a wife he’d hardly seen

I saw his soul

---

He told of losing hope and faith

Of wishing death’s release

Of deepest well he’d ever known

Of falling to his knees

I saw his soul

---

I asked him frankest questions

And he did not balk from truth

He analysed and after thought

Depicted foolish youth

I saw his soul

---

He did not ask, I never said

His wine was eloquent

I lived a little of his life’s

Redemptive glass, a gent,

I saw his soul

---

He gave me food for future

In the telling of his tale

I gave him gloves and scarf, a coin

And wished him fair thee well

I saw it all

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‘We Will Marry Your Girlfriends’

Sailed

that ship

has sailed now

left without

a passenger or freight

have to smile

 resign self

queue with others

must needs grin and bear

and wait.

Pluck And Fuck

There’s a weed grows wild in my garden,

I kill it but it still survives,

No poison or potion imagined

Can quell it, it lives though frequently dies.

It buries beneath to find nurture,

It spreads out, could take over the land,

But I prune it with shears every morning

Or else it would get out of hand.

It’s a bugger that haunted my growing,

Taunted whenever it could,

I bought all the pellets, I cropped it,

I did what I was told that I should

To stifle its errant persuasion

For no one can live while it feeds,

It sucks all the flavour from living,

It thrives as can only a weed.

I looked again, freshly, one morning,

I hated its sight in my eyes,

Recognised world and its worries

And my nature combined fuelled its lies.

I wept at the weed, strong despite me,

Forgave it its nature and face

But begged for the chance to grow flowers

In most of the wide-open space.

I became gardener to flowers,

To roses and riots of blooms,

I decreed weed was unwelcome,

I accept it but it gives me some room

To be all the me that I can be

For inside of the weed there’s a charm,

Understanding its nature, accepted,

I refused to be controlled or be harmed

By the power of depression that fixes

Into crevices, people and place,

I chose to be happy, I still do,

In spite of the weeds that I face.

Its not all a garden of roses,

It’s not all a wasteland of weeds,

I plant what I can, where I can,

How I can, and hope is the best of my seeds.

Now I see gardens where both grow,

Possession is nine-tenths the law,

I pluck them, I fuck all the stranglers,

Rose-tinted with a hopeful hacksaw.

 

I recognise that there are many types of depression and that not all can be addressed by a shift in perception. For me, it worked. It was either that or live on anti-depressants. The world depressed me and is still capable of doing so. I choose not to let it as best as I can. With hope and fight. And every tool at my disposal – sharpened.

 

Toes Grown

There’s consolation and some comfort in the knowing

That streets I’ve walked upon they’ll walk on too,

That rivers I have known, they’ll feel in flowing,

Their gift of life transporting, they the crew

Forever destined to new embarkations,

New destinations, some far out of sight, 

Predestined in unknown determinations,

Forked with choices they believe are right.

There’s sympathy and empathy in feeling

That those who venture forth to find their route,

Deserve the trust and onward love they’re stealing,

Travellers whose first steps falter’d, as I put

A hand to hold, support the risk they took then,

Determined but with dainty, tiny toes,

Kissed in days I never saw when

New shoes would grow and feet would wander forth.

There are tears that now the door has opened wider,

While heart is closing round the children grown,

Seeking yet to hold a little longer

Even though they, like time, have flown.

I’m counting heads and reeling from the impact

Of emptier nest while four will still remain,

Pretending joy, acceptance of a life fact,

That children grow. And I still have this to feel again.

Life Rules

Arcane laws and rules,

Quaint decorum’s past regrets

False nonentities.

 

Change for change’s sake,

No change there in etiquette,

Same-old applies still.

 

Distorted, broken,

Withered limbs of fallen tree,

New life by its roots.

 

 

 

Dance With The Devil

I don’t do dark very well – it scares me! But I thought I’d try my hand at devil’s advocate.

 

Will you dance if I dine at your table,

If I furnish your hearts deepest desire?

Will you welcome my arms twined around you

While I lead you on the dance floor of fire?

Will you sway when promised heaven on earth

Though I bind it to the cost of your soul,

Will you forego nirvana eternal,

Negate elusive Elysian goal?

 

Will you feed from my hand if I proffer,

Twirling you in a frenzy of delight,

Will you swoon at my feet when exhausted

And I summon in Babylon of night?

Will you beg if I torment your spirit,

Abandon you pinned, flower to the wall,

Stretched beyond your every endurance,

Should I catch when you are ready to fall?

 

If I guarantee worldly successes,

As an exchange for a waltz with your mind,

Will you welcome my evil excesses,

Assist me in my most hellish designs?

May I offer exact allocation,

Fetch a price for your hand to my hot touch,

Prostitute values and weaken, survey

Temptation’s acreage, breadths of my reach?

 

Will you sashay in joint admiration

While I false praise you, inflating your pride,

Have my words reached core of your vanity,

Will you unveil as my spouse, stand by side?

Shall I teach you beyond luminescence,

Revealing ominous behind closed doors,

Shall we frolic with innocence and goodness,

Sweep these charlatans from searing dance floor?

 

Can you bide with the devil anointed,

Impressed deeply in the hearts of all men,

Or cast me from task, duty appointed,

To begin asking all over again?

May I rest at your table while thoughts war,

Till you test your resistance to my charm,

May I offer some spirit to savour

As you weigh up the pros and cons of harm?

 

Remember I dwell fast within you, though

You fight me and address as external,

Dance with me, partner, ignore all the risks,

Embrace me as your power internal.

You’ll regret if you shun my advances,

Dismiss earnest request for all your hands,

When my power’s seized by those who crave it,

Destruction viewed and rued  in cast-off lands.

 

I’m counting the minutes of this music,

Tapping foot as you mull my overtures,

I’ve tried, no one can fault me for effort,

Revealed to you the best of all my lures.

You’re declining when I seek your favour?

You won’t dance, you say? I need not do more

As long as you don’t dance with the other,

I have accomplished, completed my chore.

 

Excuse while I move around the tables,

My feet are itching, ready still to dance,

Some among the many gathered hereabouts

Are pining and would welcome, given chance,

To glide round the parquet with the devil,

Grasp my claws, all they offer and bestow,

Unoffended by your blunt refusal,

I have a world to dance with, just so you know.

And so it goes….

The plans changed.

We adapted.

That’s life.

Six became four,

then five,

by technology.

Presence begat

seven.

Two absent by

choice,

circumstance.

Seven embraced nine,

then many.

Growing conversation

included the world,

its entirety,

its meaning,

purpose,

subterfuge,

conspiracies

and realities.

And realities of conspiracies.

 

Gallons of humour.

Tears

of laughter

and understanding.

Hugs and kisses of short farewells

and longer journeys.

Dismissives of maternal worry

enclosed in comprehensive travelogues.

Tickles of

tender teasing,

rude, graphic, enacted

diffusion.

Undiluted,

concentrated

love.

My family.

More growth.

And so it goes.

May Music, Day 14 – ‘Damn Right I Support It’

Pick a song, says Twindaddy, that reminds you of your boyfriend/girlfriend, for day 14 of his 25 days of music challenge.

It’s been a long time since hubby or I could be described as boyfriend/girlfriend. Or boy and girl, for that matter.

So, I’m going with the prompt as a reminder that love knows no distinctions. In honour of all my children. And everyone else’s. Love is love.

boyfriend/girlfriend

boyfriend/boyfriend

girlfriend/boyfriend

girlfriend/girlfriend

All bases covered here. And it still looks and feels like love to me. It takes love to know love. Same Love, Macklemore.

Sun Dance

Words are playing in my head

And writing them down is a way

To empty my brain

And find relief from all said

But the words trouble

And scare and berate

Is it too late?

Admonishment and promise exist

In harmonious fulfilment.

Hope arises.

 

Times ahead

Known when seen

Vast oceans of darkness 

And flood

To test and tempt

Wonder at on earth

And above

Angels quake at

Anger and fierce

Retribution

 

Rainbows of hope

Messages too subtle

Await anew

 

 A double-edged sword

A message for three

And the sun knows

And sees and shows

North, South and round

Dance, bask and grow

Our light from the light

Be advised

Arise

Awake

Act.