Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I mean really see them

Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast

Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching

The plume of colour from a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio

Understand.
Perspective.

Take some time to really see something, for the first time.

Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I really see them

Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast

Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching

The plume of colour of a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio

Take some time to really see something, for the first time.

I find darkness a wonderfully funny thing
How it is associated with evil

But when I look at the nights sky
I see the warmth of a crisp dawn
I see change and the majesty of another chance
A feeling of protection and resignation
Renewal, even
I feel a sense of vastness and possibilities

I felt the feeling a blanket pulled over me beside the fire on a howling winters night.
The arrival of home

I found the darkness of night frightening
About what could be inside, under its veil
But when you embrace it for itself
What it is
You can see the brightest of stars
And sea of brilliant colours
A sea of feeling


Because of course, the light never truly leaves us even when the stars dwindle
Around the corner
Is the chance

Brown, peeling rubber soles on big feet
Crunch crunch, the gravel and glass goes underfoot
The overcast gloom of the early morning.
Depressed and downhearted buildings lining the streets.
Weeds encircling the gardens like a dragon looming over its prey.
Flowers hanging their heads, gravely.

Smudged faces, dark purple eyes, gaunt complexion, another restless night for these children.
Bruises up and down each leg.
Trodden, broken. “Not good enough” ringing in their ears.
Dreary faces, ripped uniforms.

The school building silhouetted against the grey, emotionless sky.
“Line up in rows, nice and neat”
They would hear this repeated for the rest of their lives.
A zebra crossing worn and battered.

Cigarettes passed from frail, wrinkled, hopeless hands.
Hooked on 4 a day at the age of 13
The wind groaned through the yard.
Somber faces, with wide eyes awaiting an education.

Pale arms and legs bristling in the playground.
Teachers thinking the sun has set on their dreams.
The corporations rubbing their hands, stamping their boots.
Another day at school now, but do they have a future?

The time when clouds sail across the embers of an orange sky, just dying down
The time when trees frame the sky, silhouetted branches reaching and grasping.
Shades of violet and blue spilling over each other like a painted scene.
The time when chimneys, in the gloom, puff their last breath.
A time where night and day converse, lazily and soft spoken.
Whispering to each other and giggling.
The brightest of stars seemingly emerging from the clouds.

A time for wonder and dreams.

Tumbling,  falling, twirling over a desolate landscape
Where flowers once grew, green and merry

The delinquent hope that under, the suffocating snow, flowers can bloom.
Shards of ice building from the rubble.
Daggers of chill

Changing, falling, melting beauty from ugly. At the edge of the glacier, a trapped memory teetering, to fall or fly. The cold whispering.

The sun obscured by the clouds, brooding, grey

A flurry of words, a once rapid river, as frozen as his heart

Caught in a blizzard, hanging in the balance, will it thaw?

The sun beamed at the meadow with blissful happiness
As I rested by bones, bathed in warmth, the aroma of grass seasoned slightly by water droplets found itself comfortably in my nostrils

Seas of time seemed to stretch out before me with welcoming arms
The perfect tranquility, the soft breeze accompanied with the swaying of the flowers like some rhythmic dance.

Green trees and foliage delighted to see me as I strolled by.
Just over the dip a pond could be seen, jubilantly conversing with lazy dragon flies.

Berries springing from every bush like glimmering jewels residing peacefully in a crown of leaves.
The tactile curiosity of an ant navigating the plains of my palm.

The blue sky stretching vastly in front of me yet seemed as though it was a canvas, waiting for my imagination to paint

A place where time stops.

At birth labels were placed upon us
Neat and nice, perfection almost
Oblivious, unaware that these labels would form our outlook on life.

Tags impervious to the most powerful emotions, chained to the heart
The labels trapped and confined us
Dragged us from the depths of the ocean to the soaring sky

Our individuality seeming like a fleetting memory
The labels stalked and followed.

Purposefully picked and placed in rows.
We accepted them obediently,
However we were aware of the gloom

But labels can be snapped by a change in perception

Language can form and diminish
Paint pictures more vividly than pallets
A thousand different stories flowing through the veins of society

Words can be picked as subtle as a petal on a dandelion
Or rushing over rocks as fast as the tide.

Words and letters are as sharp as a knife or as lovlingly embracing as a hug

Conversation ties and connects, ravels and unravels.
Speeches can transform and inspire and move

But all words have meaning

Two paths sprawl out in front of you.
Both identical.
Both unforgiving.
A wisp of opportunity caught in the belligerent breeze. Both could mould your perception and life

You choose one, as you walk further, the end of the path seals itself; in a tight unforgiving knot.

Further and further, wistfulness and curiosity descended upon you, plunging its claws and whispering, seeding itself in your mind.

You peek over the divide however the other path has disappeared, travelled upon the wind.

As you saw the end of your path, the storm clouds of regret rolled and boomed, rain drops of sorrow cascading against you.

When looking back you saw only an impenetrable knot

Being called “annoying”
Is like a glacier, frigid, rigid, inescapable preventing from social contact

A choking, strangling feeling penetrating your veins. A stone crushed by the might of a palm

Isolated, observing, analysing social conversations yet never overcoming the boundary

A tether severed and knotted to the throat. A rush of pain caught in the wind at the hilt of the dagger.

But a hand, a few words can reach into the chasm, rejoice and untie.
Create connections and weave intricate relationships, to bloom into a captivating flower.

That hint of compassion, gradually using the rubble to form a new personality, saving esteem.

Blooming, prospering

He eroded himself like a rock into a fine powder.
Losing sight of himself.
He started to fall into the abyss of a dark tunnel.

A “Small purchase” he called it “Something to drink”
And she slowly lost sight of him as he fell into a dark chasm of sorrow.

He diluted and mixed
himself until he forgot.
He lost himself in drink and further himself from his loved ones.
He slammed doors.
The devils claws drew close .

But he was oblivious, he shouted and pushed.
But one soul reached into his heart
Showed him the error, his dilution
And he saw the light in the once dark chasm.

The tether faded fast.
The ***** in the chain becoming more distant to each other.
Two hands unravelling.

As the tether faded, the grief and sorrow grew, seeding itself.
An oak tree affirming its roots.
A cry of dismay in a blink.

With the tether gone, both oak trees became familiar with each other’s soil.
The tether a forgotten memory.
An ancient picture screen.

A brief wind of past occasionally shook through the trees.
A faded disconnection caught in the breeze.

A Dagger In My Back

I  kept pulling the dagger from my back
I was deceived, I was a fool
You apologised and pleaded,
Although my wounds became a growing crisscrossed pattern


You promised me that you wouldn’t pull the shutters over my eyes
You promised me you wouldn’t hug and hurt,
Wouldn’t smile but still continue to weave a fine tapestry of lies.

You shook hands with a gun behind your back.
I just blindedly smiled as the blood seeped from my veins.

But I opened the curtains, dismantled the shutters.
I realised you were the one which caused me the doubt and constant pain.
I realised that you were the dagger in my back.