How We’ve Danced

These are lyrics to a tune that popped into my head on the way to work this morning. Can’t get it out of my brain now. And I’m wondering if it’s even my own tune. Ever do that? I have another one that my kids think belongs to some Disney movie but have no idea which. I think they’re havering but I can’t be sure because it feels familiar to me after singing it so many times. If I wake up humming it again, it’s mine.

What happened to the music while we danced

While we danced

What happened to the music while we danced

What happened to the graceful glide

The simple moves we didn’t hide

What happened to the music while we danced

What became of breathing while we danced

While we danced

What became of breathing while we danced

Where the fields of open doors

The honesty of earthen floors

What became of breathing while we danced 

Wherever did we go while we danced

While we danced

Wherever did we go while we danced

Disappeared like so much rain

Forgotten drops, fragmented pain

Wherever did we go while we danced

Shall we dance again in that old style, in a while

Shall we dance again in that old style

Elegant and erudite, embrace once more by kinder light

Shall we dance again in a while

What happened to that world where we danced

While we danced

What happened to that world where we danced

A simpler ball inside no walls

 One sky protecting one and all

What happened to that world after we danced

Oh, what happened to our world, how we’ve danced

Advertisements

We Bring What We Can

Your photos breathe the beauty of connection

I bring what I can

Your depth of love and willing intervention

I bring what I can

Your wisdom voiced with ageless perception

I bring what I can

Your mysticism met with introspection

I bring what I can

Your analysis, reasoned frustration

I bring what I can

Your healing gentleness and understanding

I bring what I can

Your thoughtful prose and poetry, attention

I bring what I can

Your humour, stoicism, recollections

I bring what I can

Your friendship ‘cross the distance, humbled

I bring what I can

All grist to the mill from splendid isolation

We bring what we can

So many faceless voices, willing

Aspirants of worldly entente cordiale.

In reading and commenting on blogs today, and the word ‘isolation’ running through my mind since waking, I find myself humbled and grateful to be part of this great blogging community. So many others I could have mentioned. So many people everywhere bringing life and thought to their pages. Always reaching out. Bless you all. And, as my lovely blogging bud, Rene, always says in closing her emails and posts – Peace and Love.

Reformed

Vent and as

you drown me

in your anger

disillusionment

and sorrows

I’ll erupt

in bubbles

float

to mountains

skylines

and beyond

or sink

beneath

the waves

in oceans’ hidden

depths to dwell

awhile

where cacophony

is only

whale song

to plug

my oozing ears

and when

outer limits reached

blot

all excess

I’ll be reabsorbed

and fall again

liquidity

reformed

Without Us

The echo of a dream still sounds,

I stand alone, the world turns round,

Without us.

There’s no one left

But me, bereft,

Without us.

The sky so blue with height astounding,

Sweet clean air, green grass, surrounding,

Without us.

Silence deafens, no birds in flight,

An emptiness as cold as night,

Without us.

And I’m stood there, quite all alone,

A lonely beauty now my home

Without us.

A hellish dream, to be apart

Amid such glory, there’s no heart

Without us.

Such hollow sight though stunning seen,

Nightmarish, really, sort of scene,

Without us.

I chose life when sound was heard,

Arise, it said, an awesome word,

We’re here. 

Where Angels Weep

Is it better to be absent when you lie upon a bed,

Presence close beside you, somewhere else inside your head,

Turning all the buttons in the channels of your brain,

Is it better to be all alone when absence causes pain.

Is it better to be silent when walking on the street,

Negating conversations with the lonely that you meet,

Turning face away from fears, frantic running fast,

Is it better to be silent when lonely people pass.

Is it better to be buoyant when spirit urges fall,

To try for more resilience when backed against life’s wall,

Pretending to the lonely heart that silent power wins,

Is it better to be buoyant while you flail to sink or swim.

Is it better to believe in dreams than curse the darkest clouds,

Surpassing all tempestuous with images around,

Fleeing to the hinterlands where dreamers send their prayers,

Is it better to believe in dreams than cry down oaths on never theres.

Is it better to be born a fool that never makes a plan,

Wisdom in the let it be’s instead of better than’s,

Painting pictures of their own while others purchase theirs,

Is it better to be born a fool and peddle varied wares.

Is it better to be born deaf, blind, all senses out of reach,

No touch, no taste, no scents, no sixth, distant from life, speech

Indifferent, heart of stone, oblivious to all,

Is it better to be born senseless than to feel the pain withal.

Is it better to suppress the self when angels beg their need

Though silent on a lonely cloud where usher’d tears fall, bleed,

Dripped upon the bed space where the absent hear, don’t fail,

Is it better to suppress the self when angels weep and wail.

 

Stupid Hateful Evil Morons

freshly pissedThis ^^^^ is because of what follows. Just seen via Twitter.

I downloaded the above image from Phil’s place because I was angry at something I read a couple of weeks ago on the same subject. I abstained from writing anything figuring that, as a fellow blogger would say, ‘You can’t fix stupid’.

But this here! I don’t care about fixing stupid. As yet another friend would say, ‘I want to slap the stupid out of them’.

How dare they!

http://www.queerty.com/young-lesbian-couple-left-unconscious-and-bloodied-following-anti-gay-attack-20150225

Stupid! Hateful! Pure and simple. Get the fuck over yourselves. This is why the world’s in a shitload of trouble. This is why I get depressed. What a world.

Stupid. Hateful. Evil. Alive and thriving.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 

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.

 

I need sex

Hold on…that didn’t come out right there.

But it’s more or less true all the same.

Let me explain.

When I was very young, I was haunted

By a spectre of religion. Or its mate.

I wanted to be holy or some such thing

I thought it was my calling. Or my fate.

I know I always wanted to be close to

The almighty. Or equivalent for you.

I thought that being enclosed inside an order

Would make all my wishes, or my holiness, come true.

I went along to nunneries and convents.

I really did! And checked the lot of them all out.

I window-shopped for suitability, you know, flavour

And questioned.  God, I questioned. Have no doubt.

I was listening to a spiritual advisor. A priest, you know,

A guy who wore his collar back to front,

But even with such strange attire, you know, well backwards, I ask you,

He spoke a lot of sense and helped this little runt.

He gave me some advice I still remember.

Advice, though unexpected, held the truth,

‘Go and live and love and seek the place where

God intends to use your life and youth.’

I wandered some and dillied while I dallied,

I even checked alternatives around,

Buddhism appealed and so did Judaism

Then I soon got my feet back on the ground.

I figured that my life held many mansions,

Rooms, you know, of quantity and worth,

I figured that I knew there was a spiritual,

Something more than dying after birth.

I figured then that love was all that mattered

And that touch was all important in that task,

That hugging and, you know, a bit of the other,

Would help me help myself and others. Please don’t ask!

I figured that the course on which I travelled was pretty good,

You know, I knew it inside out.

What was the point in swapping buses on the travel,

A travail I could then, as now, just as well do without.

It never stopped my interest, fascination,

With the myriad of ways we seek our goal,

The seeking, questing ways that many look to,

The wondering how to make our fractured whole.

But, I’m lost right now, I have to just admit this,

I’m crazy with the thought that what’s the point

If all judiciaries of all religions

Want to score and somehow take over this whole joint

This little earth, you know, the place that we all live on,

What if annexing and confusion is their path,

What if Cole is right and all the myriad ministrations

Only blind us all and conquer while some laugh.

I hate the thought that maybe there’s no answer,

That all we have is only THIS, this jumped up mess,

That warfare in its many conflagrations

Is all we get. I’m sorry, I confess,

That hope, right now, this moment, right here sitting,

Is a figment like the godheads in the plays of ancient Greece,

That faith and hope, belief in goodness, people,

Is a nonsense I adhere to just for peace.

I’m sorry, yes, I am, it’s not my custom

To be lost to hope while praying for our race,

But, Jesus, jumped up saviour of my childhood

I’m begging, even now, with palms upon my face,

Let there be a way where touch and loving,

The touch of thought, the touch of minds and hearts,

The touch of souls who even still are questing

Let touch, like sex, instil, let love impart.

Sex, you see, it serves on open market,

Does the job on even blogger’s space,

It’s hidden and it’s cloistered, we all do it,

Without it there would be no human race.

All the feckin’ fighting and the stories

All the angst, for what, I have to ask,

Who hit whom and what do you believe in.

Who gives a shit. Really, this our task?!

Touch someone, hug someone, have sex or chatter 

With a lover, I don’t mind the gender of,

How can any of this really matter,

We’re here and now and living. That’s our cause.

I know I’ve wandered off, I always do that,

It’s a problem, a solution for I’ll find.

Maybe in the haiku or the photo,

I’ll check them out with, always, open mind.

Love someone today,

Touch them, hands and mind and soul

Love. And be the whole.

love pic

quotesjpg.com