...

It is soundless.
Is this how it was
Before You spoke?

“I want to create,”
I said to myself.
To let bubble up what’s deep inside.
To live: jump off the shelf.

So splat, plonk, slam dunk.
And then from play,
To deeper things of this world,
To question: why are things this way? 

From thinking about me,
To think about us,
From survival, limitation, and not enough,
To live out the plan, maximus.

Throwing off the constraints 
Letting things fly,
Being intentional,
Seeing the significance if we don’t try.

The world needs us,
Today: right now!
Be present; hear the call,
Plant the seeds we’re born to sow.

Dear imperfect me,
You are your own, just be.
You wrestle with insecurity,
that you can't settle peacefully.
Dear imperfectly,
The way you are is how you're meant to be.

Don't close your eyes and pretend you can't see,
Cos when you do, you're missing free
dom, and the richness; vibrancy,
of what it means to be living, see!

  Dear imperfect me,
The devil wants you to be devastatingly,
lonely, to isolate yourself from me,
to run around, head cut off, me.
But dear imperfect me,
there's no such thing as superiority,
it's just what we do when we are achingly,
small inside, and out, dumb wittingly,
disconnected from reality.
Such a waste; insecurity, obligatory shame, we accept begrudgingly.

  Dear imperfect me,
Can we try something new, happily?
Can we live more peacefully,
seeing ourselves progressively?
As beauty wrapped, uniquely!
As unsentimentally evolving.

  Dear imperfectly perfect me,
You are, you are, who you're meant to be,
For now, until you're not; key!
Grab this truth wholeheartedly.

In each of us,
There is a wild, silky part,
Said the great poet: Mary Oliver,
Can we conspire to connect
With that part in ourselves
If we dare, maybe we’d 
Be more free and spare
Focus on what others see.

Roar...
Wild, uninhibited: free.
Living authentically me.
Ready for more?

Moving beyond fight, fleeing and freeze,
To green pastures,
Living beyond disasters,
In peace, free to feel the gentle breeze.

Risk...
Pulses surge,
New thoughts emerge — 
There are no boxes to tick.

Reward...
Works expanded,
Creativity flows,
Freely as the wind blows,
I move, no longer stranded.

Just freedom to be,
Imperfect, in deficit,
Out of control: incomplete.
Opening up to unforeseen possibilities.

Token:
“Love your enemies!”
Until the Spirit has awoken,
Life without the invisible strings, keeping us latched to disasters
But peace is spoken.

Does it really matter?
What I think or do?
Does it really matter?
How carelessly I treat you?

Flick a fly, squash insects, 
Pull roots from a tree.
Take drugs, steal, ****
Does any of this matter to you or me?

Wipe the sleep from our eyes,
Stir our conscience,
Remember why we’re here!
Being present to bring presence.

Today matters.
What we say and do,
Leaves an imprint far greater 
Than virtuality: current reality, thinks is true.

Twitches, goose pimples (bumps),
shivers and hot and cold flushes,
Body, you are speaking to me.
I hear you.
I notice you.
I encourage you to talk;
Tell your story.
Discharge all your anxiety,
Release all your rage,
Unfreeze all your fear,
With me, you are free,
My container is cosmic now,
I have matured, I have calmed,
I am listening.
I am trusting.
You can be free to feel,
So share.
I welcome you.

we are all missing pieces
of ourselves, cold,
and missing pieces
of the bigger story, untold.
how do we pay homage to these,
free them to unfold?
and welcome them,
bold.

Stillness is where it all begins,
In quietness and rest, you will gain life again.
Releasing and trusting is where it continues.
In standing, with arms wide open,
In outstretching hands,
In exhaling,
In breathing,
In being,
In.
Be.

The page turns...
A new chapter;
A season over,
Just like many before.
Promises of new stories:
Adventure, suspense, romance, comedy
So much to be thankful for:
The lessons learnt, mistakes made, hearts healed, and spirits soared.
A grateful journey.
The plot: people, place, possessions continue
Turning towards terror
And taking it with truth;
Love is my safe landing,
There I stand confidently.

hungover...
from tiredness,
sleepless as I lay in weight,
heavy heart, blurry brain;
a complete mess.
brittle bones, dull tones, life lost,
courage scattered from the night before.
Trying to remember, "I am not less!"
One way to get unstuck,
own your truth, not give a f@#k,
and be gentleness,
to myself and all around,
which is the most profound
of this journey, I profess.
it's not over.
.
.
.
It's just begun!

Return to connection

Turn again to your mother’s *****
And risk vulnerability;
Courageous kindness in a world of disconnection.

They say with age comes wisdom — 
Yet, I am now at the stage where I know less.
I have piqued and critiqued
Myself and others, to the point of illness,
Sublimating for acceptance,
serving and fighting for the rights of the masses,

But — 

Killing myself quietly;
Loving others and receiving stress
Oblivious in blindness.

Wide eyes now,
And on the eternal quest,
to love wholeheartedly, subjugating wild-brainless
And embracing my divine mess.

God is love. 
God created man and woman to love one another, 
You and I have a choice,
But we live in a fallen world, where your choice might not align with God's will, but He still loves us.
God calls us to love one another as He has loved us
We are to unite, not divide. 
To love, not to hate. 
To encourage, not discourage. 
To help those less fortunate than oneself. 
To give hope to those who need it
To pray at all times. 
God is sovereign, but he uses us to be His hands and feet...
I am not the healer, God is, but I can be a vessel for His healing love here on earth through relationships
...
And through poetry?!

Never did I want to be a boxer,
But I’ve spent quite a lot of time in the ring.
All I’ve wanted was to daydream,
To play, write and sing.

But there’s always been a block:
Distraction,
A thief that’s knocked me down and robbed me true,
From harnessing my introspection.

Pushed up against the wall,
Beaten blue and black,
Suffering in this moment,
Focusing more on what I lack.

But I’m ready now,
To change: I MUST CHANGE,
Or I’ll lose much, much more,
Than I’ve already exchanged.

the tears are deep,
deeper than my skin.
they come up from the deep,
fears and lost dreams from within.
the tears that come
from all the lives not taken,
the tears are cries
from all the paths mistaken.
the tears were all
the dreams I've shaken
and nothing comes from
but only depression was awakened.
but then the tears were a release
from all the sorrows brazen.

Loose curls —
found scattered throughout 
my house
DNA traces —
Declaring existence
Beyond these poems;
Manifestations.
And fleeting interactions
In tight and wide-open 
Spaces.

and that's what I just
don't get
what makes a poem move?
make someone wet?

I try to be deep,
To be funny,
I try to be whimsical
And visceral so that you can taste honey.

Sometimes I rise,
Many more times, I collapse.
There are pages upon pages I despise,
bored with them, perhaps?


but...

Is it the outcome,
or is it the process?
Does that make poetry?

Help me, please…

Compelled to make sense?!

The air was thick and hot;
The flies floated atop.
The tall trees, gums, gave
Jaggered shade, tiger stripes
on my skin they made.

Hey there,
Look at me!
Mixin it with the "big boys"
of Helloooooo Poetry.

I may be old[ER] in-age,
Grey and less slender,
Pumping out words
Like bullets with no gender.

But I hope,
The war I wage
Is of love and peace,
not one's re-locking the cage.

How do we use our platform
For things that matter?
Ego-crucifixion;
Liberation and not just idle chatter?!

Slow us
Lord, that we watch our ways
And about turn
To Your face.

my old photographs hang
on a wooden frame, found
on the lawn of a house
whose man has no name.

do we still print photographs these days,
or just keep them on our phones?
I don't. We take them, edit them,
and make them into something we can clone.

photographs, something I prize;
the whole journey of discovery,
timings: early morn or sunset,
capturing moments of gratulatory,

but I don't take many now,
why? where has my love escaped?
do I now just capture them with my eyes?
have I hung those dreams too, where my lost hopes are draped?

Before I was born

What was I thinking?
No, stop! What-was-I-really-thinking?
Perfection? There is no such thing here, this side of heaven,
Yet, I’ve spent my entire life trying to be,
More, hating who I was,
Striving to be more?
Was it from the trauma of my first surgery
To my brain at 11 months young, that then suffered, again and again, three times more?
Was it the generational trauma carried in my DNA? Unseen, unheard but screaming: you’re not enough!
Stop trying, give up!
Was it others taunting and teasing, yet in reality testing,
Testing what I would do with their jealous tirade?
What a waste.
That’s not how I want to live anymore.
I want to rethink, no, re-imagine a new reality, and step right into my innate creativity.
Breathed within me before I was born.
By YOU...

I was not born of this time,
The 1920s are more me.
The swinging, the fast feet bopping over mine,
Maybe not the cigarettes, but G&T's,
Most certainly. My curls break line
and make chaos look magical glee.
I'd wear pearls draped lavishly fine,
And I'd stay up til early.

Hooray

I'll meet You here today
so that our hearts will get to play.
and our smiles will go back from yesterday,
Oh, yesterday.
Our souls will stretch out far and lay
peacefully quiet in Your welcoming hay.
I'll stay forever, and I'll pray
for others to join us every day.
It'll be my pleasure, I'll say; hooray!

In this world we will have troubles:
Daily struggles, some self-inflicted, some externalised.
I can now see my greatest sin has been: refusing to accept God’s grace.
Lavishly bestowed: freely given: no strings attached, no punishment afflicted.
I repent of being internally conflicted; rning my eyes to His face,
He holds me, loves me, molds me,
As hard as this journey of life has been,
I see beauty is springing forth from within me from thee.
As deeper understanding is gained,
I can release the heavy burdens and unnecessary chains.
Grace: freely given, I now receive,
Grace: everlasting gift truly unmatched and unrestrained.

As I poured my second steamy, frothy coffee,
Pyjamas wrapped, Uggs tapped as I waddled back.
Bed called, not its usual mantra: hide, but confide,
Laid down respectfully, trusting, heeding not to thoughts of lack,
But dreamingly inventing new worlds, opening my heart beyond now, but being very much present.

In the silence,
A scream came forth from nowhere.
Not prompted by anything or anyone.
It startled me, at first,
As the tremors reverberated in my body, still.
I pondered its origins;
A groan of all the screams I've suppressed
Leaked out:
Layered losses claiming their voices.
With their release, came space,
And grace…and strength and power.
I'll harness, to use in this hour.

Broken Dreams

I tried to be clever,
Carrying too much in my hands.
Inevitably, the glass did sever,
Shattering on the floor, lands.

Can I draw parallels,
With my broken dreams?
God’s too, when He breathed life into dust particles
But we, His people, became broken vessels
Living off dry, earthly streams.

In this season, God’s promises
Seem improbable.
Broken vessels are the masses,
Spirit-God, do the impossible…

Mend my distorted dreams today;
Bringing peace where there seems no stay.

How sad? that my initial thought,
When I saw a man in church,
Lead youth out, was: how creepy!
I’m sure he is lovely, but even his looks
Made me lurch,
within myself, and yell: it’s not safe!
This distorted world robs innocence,
Smashes precious platforms and
Hijacks joy.
How do we restore this;
Elevate hope again?
All I have are questions, no answers.
How can we better love ourselves and one another?
How can we extend compassion?
It starts with ourselves!

Restraining

There's something
paradoxical
about restraining,
saying no,
when everything in you
wants to say yes,
everything in you wants
to go get,
everything in you wants
to consume
And then you pause and
wait
And it passes.
Is that the power of restraint?

Fear is the only thing that will keep you from the truth,
So is self-consciousness the only thing we should fear?!
Just relax…

Lovely beings, made in love to love;
Superfluous act? Heavenly fact.

Deep darkness, despair.
How could you know, you’re not there?
Empty mind I crave,
But constant chatter takes me to the grave.

Fleeing, running; working, studying, drugs, and stuff,
Distractions from revelation; I am enough.
Progress is prized; the final nail,
We need true clarity; the holy grail.

Opening out and up to the mystery unknown,
Here, flourishing can become our own.
Insights of the true us,
Found when there’s nothing, no sound, no ***...

Embracing loneliness can be the pearl sought,
Moving away from things ought,
Turning to the unknown,
Is where true dreams are sewn.

Poetry
May seem a solitary
Pursuit.

But,

In every
Poet
There is a myriad
Of multiple memories,
Classic characters
Distorted demons
Vying to be released beyond the vault.

To take root

In your minds and hearts

Forever a part of you,

And me.

Swoosh, zgrrrr, yahooo, zooom!
I am full of vibrations;
****** energy pulsing in my womb
and veins, “I am alive!” they exclaim.
I’ve wanted these sensations to quieten,
they’ve driven me, frustrated to no end: to the end?
But now, can I see, them as part of me, don't frighten,
Welcome and celebrate them?
Alive to make sense of the sensations,
Alive to play with them, hear them, feel them,
notice them go up and down,
Alive to embrace as me: now found. Amen.

poetry percolates
in the unconscious
waiting for a triggered start.

poetry then lays dormant in the body
until it's ready to surface
in the heart.

Why do I walk?
For exercise;
For an influx of oxygen?
No.
For poetry’s sake —

Each step I take
Unlocks thoughts from the deep,
And I reach in to take a peep.
What peers back
Is not a gasp,
Not a rasp rattling:
“Get back to walking!”
But a friend, 
Who hears my thoughts
And welcomes them —

Who says: once more,
“Yes! Here we go again”
And by the time I stop
At my destination,
I've taken those steps,
And released my vocation
With unequivocal elation —

It is lighter outside now,
Rather than the tar-dark
Of the night.
Cars are streaming past;
Their swoosh is like white-noise,
In the early morn.

Things are relatively static
Right now,
Until then busy-ness of the day
Commanders,
Then colour-blinds
All the senses.

Is writing poetry like my fidget toy?
A warm bath or a workout,
Still-ing, stalling and styling
My next proposition.

Can I go one day without doubting?!
One day without posting?
One day without coffee?
One day...
BUT
I will not go one day without seeking,
One day without praising,
One day without
YOU

Have you ever just wanted to eat sugar straight from the bag?
To open your mouth wide and pour?
Not stopping for air.
But gasping for more --

Sometimes I have these cravings,
galore --

What has come of those days,
That I longed to pass?
What have come of those days,
Now that I long wish they last’d?

Little Drummer Boy

The drummer
We see today,
Is still the 'Little Drummer Boy'
From yesterday.
His dreams
You gave,
Still, bounce along 
The beats to the eternal song,
Breathe new life 
In the air today,
So he may fulfil 
His destiny.

From nowhere...
I started singing:
"calling you forever..."
and in my spirit, I heard the reply...
"I've been calling you forever!"

Does creativity require an audience?
Or is it just ok to be?
I ask this to the Master for concordance,
Because I want to learn how to see.
Your intention behind creating us,
And how You made me?
I feel You’re ok with my questions, thus
I’ll keep asking till the curiosities flee.
Please help me channel this inner drive,
For answers, peace and intimacy.   
How can we harness,
And share Your revelations purposely?
For lives saved, inflictions healed,
And eyes fixed Heavenly.

Last intensive, last counselling lecture, last semester, last chaplaincy subject…
Last—
This won’t last, soon it will be in the past, right now I can’t wait for it to fly fast,
But I’m sure, sometime, in the not to near future,
I will look back with forlorn, how could it go so fast?
The future looms,
I need to zoom out, hold the prospects lightly, noticing how they feel…
I feel!
Exciting, overwhelming, the usual anxiety-producing sensations.
Could there be another way to feel about the future?
Could there be faith in the unfathomable, not too distant future?
Could the unknown become my friend, inviting me to see new possibilities?
Welcoming risks for pure bliss?
From this vantage point, it has flown,
But I know there have been times when it just felt slow, and my spirit groaned.
So, can I sit here, in the now, embrace the future full of confidence?
I am here now!
Four years ago the challenge loomed,
Felt like carrying bricks up Mount Everest: impossible.
But here I am. I am here.
Celebrate, clap and cheer
the impossibility is thus so near.
It whispers: come closer, lean in, don’t be afraid, peer…