There is poetry in motion
Life is like the ripples in the ocean
They start small and spread wide
One small action can change so many lives
One ripple can intertwine
Your ripple can affect mine
There are so many ripples across the water
That you might as well not bother
To keep track of all of them
Just think on this time and again
The smallest thing you say or do
Can change the world when the ripple is through

The fire starts quietly enough
Burning from some old underbrush
Catching some old dry wood
I sit there watching thinking to myself good
The dry wood crackles
Sounding almost like a madman’s cackle
And the flame begin
To ascend
Even quicker
Engulfing the house in even thicker
Clouds of noxious smoke
The wind blows my way and I choke
Even so I laugh inside
Giddy with excitement
I watch my childhood home fall
And never once think to call
Anyone for help at all
I just sit back with a smile
Enjoying the scene
Thinking all the while
This is such a scream
Deep inside I yearn
To stop it all
But instead I let it burn
And watch it fall

The romanticist dead at twenty six
His obituary reads that this is it
Love is dead and sorely missed
But he wont play the lover fool
Never again will he be dismissed
Just for the dream of love and kisses
The poet dead at twenty seven
His words are the closest he ever got to heaven
those purple prose are now at peace
Now that the poet is finally deceased
The dreamer dead at twenty eight
I guess he just couldnt wait
For the world to catch up to him
And now there is no one left to remember him
The nice guy dead at twenty nine
But none one care cause it was his time
He left the world no worse or better
So all that died was a state of mind
The **** is dead as seventy two
Barely even made it through
He lost his heart hopes and dreams
So the world just made him bitter and mean
From romanticist, and poet, to hopeless dreamer
Life taught him to be that much meaner
A lesson learned that deeply burns
Not every lover gets his turn
Not ever poet writes his word
Not ever dreamer is seen and heard
And not every nice guys gets what he deserves

The stars flare and then unwind
Like bits and pieces silky twine
They disconnect from the heavens
And stray so far from my mind

The salt water burns
As it bubbles boils and churns
Rapidly descending as
It moves from turn to turn

The dirt writhes beneath my feet
Sand and mud are consumed
In agonizing defeat
Thus it weeps as it recedes
From the burning trees and their leaves

The fire flows like lava streams
Embracing the water that it turns to steam
It shifts and cools until it’s solid
And leaves its power yet unseen

Mankind stands amongst it all
Arrogantly thinking they know it all
Never stopping to realize
How easy it would be to fall

My mind races
With all these thing
The immortal elements
And human beings

As I cycle through my thoughts
Remembering the lesson that were taught
I bow my head slightly in wonder and awe
At the beauty that cannot be bought.

To truly listen, you must care.
Be present, and self aware.
Do your contract at the start,
Too ensure, you’ve done your part.
Empathises through their eyes,
Connect the dots and be wise.
Person centred is the key,
To showing true empathy.  
Communicate your limitations,
Boundaries and qualifications.
Ethics are what you need,
To value A human being.
Remain honest, and act true,
Be accountable, for all you do.
Act with nonmaleficence,
to show beneficence.
Ask open question, to aid progression.
I must critique we are all unique.
Let’s not forget about respect,
To have candour and protect,
Confidentiality - must be kept.
Be clear and transparent,
Paraphrase the apparent.
Focus on emotion, self governing and devotion.
Have congruence within your self,
Too ensure good mental health.

created and man-made, holding lives in the hands and dictates sorrows and joys. Slow and steady, never-ending, eternal, but never enough. capturing moments on squares smeared with ink. the hands never letting go.
grandfathers stand tall and watch as the owl makes her best. she sings lullaby's to her children, as they lay to rest. restful days and restless nights. blankets covering who rest peacefully. the hands place bouquets by their bedsides.
standing on a log amongst the swallowing waters, the hands beckon to cross the cavern. the owl and her children soaring high above the waters. with lifeless lungs and barely a grasp reaching for the hands and they stretch across. standing tall and looking grandfather in the face. the hands wrapping around with an unbreakable grasp.

In my younger days
there was pain
and a rage
that would raze
the world away;

A deep injection
of sorrow infections,
coupled with
disappointment,

and when I erupted
I kept almost all
of my volcanic outbursts
to the form of exercise
or other means of
self-hurt,

because I did not
want to cause
anyone
the same
sickness
of anguish
that I suffered.

Whether it was
waking in tears,
punching solid objects,
or working out
to the point of
exhaustion,
purging my stable
of demons,
what a
painful exorcism.

Now,
I am healthier,
and I only engage in
a less brutal regimen
in comparison
to deal with my issues.

Tis a fear,
elegantly etched
in the sketch
played in
my dreams,

chaotic scene
that came
unbidden
to unlock
the hidden.

At first it was
slightly amusing
viewing
an old time
tv crush of mine
Samantha from Bewitch
who with a twitch
of her cute nose
could cast a spell.

But then it shifted
as I tucked a sheet in
an old brown couch
with my dearly departed grandma.

***** trick to play you see,
I awoke mournfully,
aching with the memory
of a loss that happened
less than six years ago,

whilst fearing
losses nearing
and yet to come.

The lesson is
we are not less then
other men
but different
in our radiance.

Some may shine bright
while others wear a light
that is on another spectrum
one that most humans
are not even looking for.