Wait ! What is it that you have forgotten?
You have forgotten to be mindful
You have forgotten yourself.

Try to remember what it was like to be you.
To laugh and smile and to remember your homework.

What will happen if you return
To that place where all smiles vanished.
To where innocence was lost,
Buried beneath grief and fear.

Smile my friend and remember
Remember to smile,
Remember To laugh.
All is not lost, there is much to be had.

Be at peace my friend
because you have much to enjoy x

I stand here poised
Like a bored gazelle about to leap
Not in the Serengeti
But leaning against a bin
Near Frankfurt
It is a wrought iron bin
Of fine craftsmanship
But all I can smell is ****
The **** of a thousand dogs
Over one hundread years
Marking their patch
And having no thought
For this man
Who would have his senses offended
By their ammonia picket fence.
Perhapse I will move

For Keith, that man mountain of towering spirit,
That weaver of emotion, standing proud in his truth.
I wish to be like you;
An artist of the heart, of genuine expression,
A facilitator of truth,
A provider of safety,
Like a harbor for small ships caught in a storm.
You offer a home to those who have none,
A space of healing wrapped in acceptance and silence,
An inn to rest for the night,
So we may continue our journey refreshed.

But how did you find this goodness?
Was it given to you as a gift at birth?
No.
You wrestled it from your soul
With awareness, unflinching courage and tears.

Thea, the goddess of the earth
Sits like a rock in her chamber of woven light.
The fortunate who enter here
Are blessed and tormented and burned and held.

They arrive knowing that they must make a sacrifice;
They do not pay in money but in tears,
In truth wrenched from the soul,
In accountability and naked raw awareness.

None who arrive do so lightly
But all who come leave lighter.
Their confusion unraveled through skilful enquiry,
Cut by a sharp silver sword of truth and knowing.

Enter - but do so with reverence and respect.
This is a place of healing!
Men and women are unmade and made here.

We are dancers of the soul,
Fencing with lauguage
To exorcise our truth,
Our passion,
Our pain.

We are bent over
Retching words from the darkest corners of our souls,
We are laying on cold concrete,
Cheeks pressed to old news print as our truth bleeds out,
Rages out!
Spews forth with the bile of
Words never spoken, not honored or even fully felt,
Yet there
in truth
buried!

Until...
Contained no longer,
They burst through
And like a mob unseating a dynasty,
They chant and sweat and rage and dance
Until their cause is heard and seen.
Until the News at Ten reports
That "the world is NOT AT ******* PEACE!"
That our own kingdoms will not tolerate suppression
And that our souls will be held down no longer.
That we WILL be heard!
We will no longer sit and do as dictated through years and decades and lifetimes of docile abdication.
We will NOT BE SILENT
But with our spines straight
We will rise up and
be heard,
Counted.
And fight with our poetry,
With our ink or keyboard
For the goal of freeing what we know in the depths of our hearts to be...
Our truth

Bless us!

There were days when he drew crimson across the landscape,
Painted life's already incandescent colours,
With a patchwork of his own joy and creativity,
The stars were a small reach above his head and the moon was his good friend,
He would dive into oceans and explore their depths,
Swim miles beneath the surface where  the world seemed safe and calm,

Then it stopped.







The world stopped...
With life.
And colour with it.







He stopped too and his world was no more.


Like a grey
Grey
Grey




Wasteland






Without the things he loved




And






This







Became








Normal.....







And as time went on...








he forgot,

that he once was happy...








but he knew

somewhere deep down









in some small place in his soul










that he had lost something...



Someone? maybe....

something precious

himself?







and that there was a longing inside






a longing






for life







it was like a tiny thread







which one day









he felt






Brave








Enough



To









Follow.

















It took him




















Home

I stand in the forest unaware of myself...
I wish the forest would hold me,
Would take me,
Maybe it is...

Can I stand like a tree in a forest;
My feet like roots into the earth,
My arms like branches,
My fingers leaves,
Moving in the breeze...

Can I unite with the Earths as one with my surround?
Become earth and wood and branch and leaf
And live my life here in peace?

Allow me to bend in the wind,
To grow in spring
And turn my faces to the sun,
Let me drink it's warmth
And feel it awaken my heart!

Let me pass the seasons here,
Watch the moons come and go,
The days grow long and short once more,
Till even I must fade and fall...