Where does the sky meet earth?
Why do all babies cry on their first birthday?
When is water dry?

Observe a simple fly living life in blissful dismay.
Do packets know their purpose?
Three seagulls chill on the surface of mighty blue desert bay.

Them say it all have a reason,
second day, weekly seasonal drought flooded mind.

Coke raged badgers fling pineapples through lemon peel pie rings,
feasting the tasty thin youth.

Till we openly accept rugged truth to vibration.

Dark and heavy eyelids drained the light away

We are only given what can deal with us, so this life slowly broke in blissful dismay.

Down lower
Down harder
Until the skeleton peaks out from inside.

Picking scars that are buried
Shining a light bright enough that nothing can ever hide.

This lost man’s journey to himself
Hurt’s so old they have there own castles
and armies within.
A shadow tail growing long and blind.

Illumination crouches low, lifting a faint glow higher.
Guardians noticed to bestow a destiny upon his naked mind.

They slowly lift him up by the hair of his crown
Quickly they dust him off, loosing an engraved frown
A mask not his own, carried for three lifetimes long.

“Friend, step out.” They said
“from this dark bucket home in your head and come sing with us! till you can trust your you again,
Feel the hunger, know the truth that’s in big hearts.
Shed all fear, come awaken others with your being again my dear, our dear”

Autumn Rising:
Red cracked earth, rain smelling the tar-black highway... never ending.
Out in the middle green of pine, tears flow hot down my cheeks as memories dance to embrace my heart like smoke-filled emotions from a nutty fire, they choke me, fully seizing these present tense senses, taking a hostage to what was.

Once upon a time… young friends and I with ***** feet flying freely across warm breezed fields, chasing each other, Kleilat in hand, our hearts pounding with life, faces bursting into volcanoes of laughter, the world was bigger, or was it just my heart and mind, stress slipped of this ducks back then.

fast forward to the complicated now, single colours blend into tapestries while wholeness has been compartmentalized, sceptically I live with one eye open, the other distracted, would that kid have chosen to be my friend this day?

Yes, he would!
With a wild-haired, easy going flow, he will!
So before you go giving yourself the usual hard time, take him a chance again, there’s dirt outside on the runway, let's beat and burst free brother!
all the while death kills itself as Life patiently holds out His kind hand… waiting.

What if I told you there’s a way out?
“But wait! what’s the way in?” you say out loud
And I’ll ask what it feels like to wear your skin?
And see through your eyes?
What else can there be besides, the same self-righteous lullabies we sing to ourselves at night, after night to sleep tight and fight that urge that there’s something seriously wrong
Deep down in the roots of your boots, you know it.
There’s a glitch in the matrix, where’s it coming from?

I’ll tell you what, hustle hard, get a house, buy a car, more money than you can see and live your dreams... probably far above your means then what?
Even dreams end and if your life is a dream what do you wake up to when you reach the same dead end we all face...

The race has a winner, but if all the runners are all sinners in the deep dark forest off the track making camps, settling down and the number on your back starts to fade into the black of night.
The track is out of sight, out of mind and all the runners become losers by the break of daylight.

What if I told you there’s a way out
To the way you’re in
A God-Man with a plan to wear your skin and see through your eyes, to stay up all night and pray till morning light so He can hold you tight, embracing your glitch, your something wrong, till it gripped Him, pricked Him, Kicked Him while He holds you, dying in your beating arms.
He gave up His house, car and dream life to come out in the deep, dark woods in the middle of night, off the track and finish your race with your number on His back, all before the dawn of morning which is Him too...

You see, He’s the way out
Of the you you’re in
Open the door and let Him take your dark out
Forgive your sin
Let Him be your way out, let the Son-rise and bring the sunrise into your life...
Let Him wake you up and live His Dream forever
With Him living in your skin
Living His way out, in your in
that’s the end of your end, the end of you
The beginning of Him

see what you can, cause you can't see what you can't
hear what your ears let your mind make into sounds

coincidence?
maybe you say
mystery morning dew disappears in the light of day abracadabra!
do you remember that dream you had the other night?
or was that a memory of reality, sometimes its hard to tell the difference don't you think? do you ever stop! or start thinking before blinking, about blinking.

a heart beat... potentially one wild woman pulse away from being about as dead as a mexican jumping bean when they plug you into the machine by the wall for a reboot,
Clear!

have you watched the morning moon cast a searching light, spot light over the oceans wet face, where does the rest of it's illumination go?
perhaps it's looking for where the rainbows land

have you noticed how atoms and planets look so simply alike? elephants are afraid of mice, even rice gathers together in groups, strength in numbers i suppose as it flies over the world from strange lands and even stranger strangers hands into your dinner bowl

so there's so much wonder full of wonder around about even looking up, we do that sometimes in life still, every now and again, that black endless space with twinkles, majestic, open, looks like dew in the day, behind the scenes of mystery, clumped together in floating cities...

coincidence? mayb...
stop trying to explain!
it's okay to just
enjoy it
awe it
Glorifying God
He's bigger than you and takes no prisoners unless you look up and your heart becomes bound up in the freedom of Holy mystery, leaning into controlled out of mind madness, that's okay when you see through,
its what you become, look into the sun until eyes stop working and all the darkness is light when you close them,
its a happy strange thing,
its okay to be uncomfortable
awkwardness is healing
pain is weakness leaving the body
stop being different when being you is different enough
Love above coincidence
cheaply we call randoM
that which is costly Divine

There are spaces, where I’m restricted

places I’d like to visit with my heart but the people around me and I keep hitting the brakes before we break away from the addicted us.

I am stuck in the land called lack of living, I chain myself to this comfortable dead community with an endless loop of cheap thrills and stories to fill our time and bellies.

The occasional break I get is easy come easy go till tomorrow.
There is an Excalibur man I met though, compassion is his true name.

His kind old eyes see things in me I only remember in a dream child flame.

words introduce themselves out of his mouth that cause stirrings
A fire tongue that pulls me to burning up these endless loops, incandescent as a moth by candlelight with his eternally piercing true talk.

Inside there is an answer that grabs hold to satisfy, spreading faster than the wine that keeps me warm at night.

He tells of Life so worth living that endless stories become empty and boring while the cheap thrills are driven out of town by identity, the authentic me waking up!

Forgotten Cogs covered in dust and grime break free and start moving, slowly...

Easy come easy go becomes a numb and fast fading past replaced at last with his good news that good happens!

From floating, taking, breaking and stealing I drop anchor to fish for you and fish for me, finally teaching fishing lessons that create a joy for sweating in the sun and sore muscles.

With a clear laid path, my heart is free to fly in spaces with borders that went from great walls to steps up and over into intimacy with your heart once more.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll have to sing a sea of syllables into your ears as even the blind can see with their hearts, minds and imaginate a journey with me.

Waking up to a fresh, clean, crisp sheet, warmly it holds you in bed as you try to open your eyes but this morning the front and back of the little lids that normally unlock your world suddenly share the same view, black, dark, it looks like blinding night in your day this morning,

Breathe, your heart pounds as if it’s trying to escape… BREATHE! Ok wow, calm down now! stop breathing before you pass out! no one is planning to take your air away, but you are about to learn what that casual cliché, so easily tossed around means when it looks like it’s here to stay, that is to say; life carries on.

Calming your farm down to a mild “end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it” panic, your blood-curdling scream that pierces the dream atmosphere of bacon and freshly roasted coffee reaches to the kitchen and corners your Mom, I CAN’T SEE!

Fast forward till tomorrow;
doc John said its totally temporary! stress related, soon to pass blindness, gone in a week max, no biggie, get some rest and drink plenty of water for your thirsty eyes.

Frustration turns to sad acceptance and so we begin…

After 2 days of wrestling with the depression of your fate, you are found lying at the initial crime scene in those once fresh sheets where it all began, they’re warm and slightly wet from tears of why me? Oh woe! Poor pity party politics gossiped a track around your head together with an ever increasingly boring, internal investigation into life and all things self-centred until thankfully, eventually you give up.

Cautiously stepping out of that noise for a stumble around your midnight world to take a stress relieving seat by the window, with some water to replenish the puffy and somewhat useless sprinkler system on your face once called eyes.
You fumble to open the window latch and let life in, as you do it’s as if Noahs ark sprung a rainbow leak, flooding your imagination all at once,

Imagery

Crystal clear you see through your ears, almost endless scenes of birds cooing small talk with rustling leaves, even the wind smells new as its warm ancient stories hint past your nose and hairline.
The neighbour’s dog suddenly sounds as if he finished a whole bowl full of bark on loudspeaker.
Heat and cold, pressure changing pockets gently caress you in waves of temperature on the now super sensitive shores of your skin.

You have become an exposed nerve of senses, with imagery stuffing itself into your ever-expanding mind, this is how superheroes are born! You think, as the cocoon of depression falls off and you spread your wings into the sounds of sunlight.

Tuning into new frequencies you realize that you can catch Friday action night on Good Hope fm.

Before you know it those wet sheets accommodate the visually handicapped once more as your sight comes back from its holiday, apparently stress-free, the doctor checked.

I still catch you closing your eyes every once in a while though, I guess you’re probably visiting those newfound friends of yours Faith & and imagined imagery again.

Speaking easy even daisies dying in the sunburn.

Better known as better places to perform my state of mind such as silence.

Who wants to hear the dissident growing pains of failure besides the fallen many who bear scared knees.

Weak but dancing we choose to live.

So do pavement flowers, beating concrete ceilings until they
collapse into tenacious valleys of hope.

Saved by sunlight, you will see them when you are seeking or waiting, accidentally on life, for life.

Pavement flowers, daisies dying under the immense blessing of sunburn.

Crystalized, you peer through a window.

Layers of twisted mirror and glass coldly wrap themselves with mist over this buried drawer in my memory cabinet.

I can still smell a moment in there when life changed forever, the day my spidey senses permanently imploded and cocoon childhood crumbled around me in less than an hour, taking technicolour with it.

An aftertaste of grey still lingers on my tongue, I barely notice it anymore.

Time can stand as still as a thief in the shade.
Fear, despair and dread ganged up, bullying me all at once.
Pounding my chest with punches until you three pierced through and stuck, like a knife, in the back to front.

This language is not learnt on purpose, some of us are unfortunate enough to speak it fluently

Like trying to catch a rat that lives under the floor and in the walls.
I try and open this drawer over and over, but my fingers...
Freeze frame in fear near this black hole memory where time stops in orbit, dead, cold.

This is the day I played with a tennis ball in the front yard and my Dad found my Mom with another man, this is the last day I would see her in the light for 9 years.

She left me with her shadow though, and hatred.
The three of us become good friends exploring tundras of arctic grey together.

Stuck in the body of a boy without a childhood.

Speaking became like laying my spine on a fishing line.

Pain stopped hurting.

I can end there but one day...

You came back and my middle shook off centre, the poles shifted and ice caps melted for a moment when I hugged you.

I wanted to drown in your arms.

Time stopped again, I can count the breaths.
At the age of 18, I learnt that you are still a Mother, to a 9-year-old boy, that died, 9 years ago.

Now at the age of 27, I learn that I am still the 9-year-old son, of a Mother who died 18 years ago.

We can be friends though, and I can call you Mom, and we can both pretend to be ok, alive in grey cold mist, I can offer you true forgiveness.

The pain stopped hurting, I don't think that's a good thing.

I still want to drown in your arms