Life is not a race,
To be run, but grace.
To be lived and embraced.
Savoured.
Satisfied.
Looked back on,
Cherished.
However long, or short,
However hard, and things re-taught,
Life is to be lived; completely,
Reflectively,
Lovingly.

What am I beyond my industry?
Are we not building another Babel?
We babble on beyond comprehension, big-noting ourselves into oblivion,
in an attempt to reclaim the lost,
Our lost selves...
Could the career path lead us back to ourselves? Beyond ourselves?
To our true selves?
To be selfless, seeing others in loving kindness?

I was really sick
But not anymore.
I'm just tired,
Tired of playing small.
I don't know how to be
Confident
But that's all I wish for.
I keep trying,
And trying,
But I stumble back
And fall.
How can I change?
And stand tall,
Be not shameful
But
Live fully and give it my all!

stop.
no, don't stop.
go. go farther and further than you've ever been before...
don't stop,
go.

Make money;
Make more money.
Sell yourself to this world!
This world, run by thugs;
political puppetry.
Self promote; share and gloat,
On Facebook & the ‘Gram
To get more likes,
And fuel the adrenaline spikes,
You’re a slave to this world!
Doom and gloom **** you dry,
Until there is no more.
The drugs run out,
The emptiness overwhelms me.
But, there is much more...
So much more!
If only you would turn,
From the vortex,
Rebound with your reflexes,
And rage against the machine.
You’ll need to detox,
It may take some time,
But see the light,
Don’t turn in fright,
Rest, and follow thee!

Have you ever felt unsafe in your own skin?
If you haven’t, I don’t even know where to begin.
To get you to fathom,
The deep and lonely chasm.
When you speak,
Sounding only like a squeak,
Yet rattles around in the dark,
Trying to find the harbour with Your mark.

In the heart of the secret garden,
On my morning walking track,
Kokoburras crack the darkness
And sing a love song, cajoling
Other birds to cackle back in return.

I've got to protect myself
from myself -
sometimes.
get up and move
and groove -
always.

life is a series of edits
and re-edits.
nothing uneditable;
perfect.
life's not over, yet
so I will allow myself
to keep editing.

I don’t feel seen,
which he doesn’t mean,
he just doesn’t know,
how his pain affects me so.
Nurtured by a narcissist, he bleeds
his pain all over us without knowing his greed.
As his air dries up, he uses it not to love,
but to slip subliminal slime:
I am never enough.

Morning rises with a misty mirage
welcoming the brittle breeze,
Knowing the stiff chills could stifle life
and courage before it receives
The promise of warmth to wear down
The freeze; worries and self-protection, reprieve?
to grow again; try again
Believe.

Homeward bound,
Where my true self is found,
Free.

Purposed, surrendered and ground,
Happiness, peacefulness and sound,
Free.

Sitting in the Aged Care Pastoral Care room,
Drinking a warm milky tea and eating a Monte Carlo.
There are beeps outside from staff going in and out of ‘secure’ rooms,
The hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen nearby,
Gentle clanging of knives and forks being sorted,
Staff chatter going in and out of Residents’ rooms.
Life in an Aged Care Center.
Taking in this precious moment; I am here,
I'll never have this moment again,
A moment I've been working towards for years through study and practicum.
I am a spiritual carer!
Walking alongside the life-full residents;
Their crinkly, sagging skin, lines that tell a thousand stories
Of love, loss, despair, and hope for repair
oscillating between the past lives and future selves
Some are only just here for the minute.
So much they can teach me,
And like my younger self eager to learn,
I listen hopefully.

I miss my best friend;
She brought adventure to my life
We hiked Machu Picchu and Kokoda,
Tasted dumplings in dippings
at Holy Duck! in Kensington.

We were close for eight years:
Preempting needs - bringing her back a lg, skinny cap
after my morning walk around the Kirribilli shoreline.

But somewhere along the way,
I lost myself in her —

Love turned to hate.
She didn't see me, need me, want me anymore
And it became too late…

I miss her!

Well,
The idea of her anyway...

poetry has become my drug.
when did this happen?
what was once a source of healing,
now causes scorn.
three times of torture;
I write, re-rite and write again
but like an addiction,
it soon loses its thorn.
did anyone read it?
I check, re-check, triple-check.
do they like it?
will it 'trend'?
what was once my life source
I now mourn.

As the world waits, expectantly,
For that unruly, invisible strain
Of fear to seep back from whence it came,
Or obliterated, vaccinated intelligently.

Doubt, an insidious strain of
Forgetfulness, wrestling with the wonder of
Love.

If miracles haven't happened yet...
Hold the tension,
Of the now and not yet.

"What's your name?"
Rebekah Halle ***
"D.O.B?"
13 November 1XXX
"What are you here for today?:
Eye surgery
'Okay, you're going to feel a freeze go through your veins now --
and then start to feel very sleepy..."
.
.
.
I wake to....
Beep,
Beep, beep
Buzz the machines
Whee, whoosh, voodoo
Whirl goes the blood pressure machine
knock, knock on the door
The nurses peer into check,
then
Silence, for a sec.
.
.
Beep,
Beep, beep
.
And then…
Knock, knock, knock
"Your eyes are looking great,
I'll come back in the morning," Dr Kowal says.
.
.
.
Beep
Beep, Beep, Beep
I sleep...
.
And then…
Knock, knock, knock
“Do you want your dinner now?!”
Inquires the hospitality staff.
.
.
Darkness strangles light
Again nurses wheel in their trollies…
Volumous voices viscerate silence
All In
the hospital room.

Standing alone in a clothes room,
Looking in the mirror directly.
Crying out on the inside;
I still haven’t found what I’m looking for!

Is it just me?
Or is it the world?
When will the mirror show completeness;
When will it show joy?
Standing alone in a world full of people,
But when will I find the second half?
Is it Your plan,
Or is it just for laughs?

Still haven’t found what I’m looking for!

In a city of rushing,
And everybody pushing
There's no stopping
To smell the roses,
We’re all glammed up,
Putting in the poses.

Still haven’t found what I’m looking for!

But as I quieten
The inner me,
That no one can see
No longer am I frightened,
I will just be.

Standing alone in a clothes room,
Admiringly
Satisfied with the journey
Releasing the bags of gloom.

What I've been looking for
Was here all along
You are what,
I've been looking for!

Reckless abandonment;
Wild love, sunshine stretched out
Overall, no monthly contracts,
Uninhibited; so we can be.

Strain, after strain, causing pain with no gain.
Fight it with love, patience,  
kindness. Rise again.

People's reactions
aren't a reflection of me,
but of themselves,
you'll see --

Suppression and revelation,
two entwined masters of destiny?

I’ve got nothing 'cept grit,
You told me: need nothing 'cept believing it.
But doubt overshadows me,
And I crumble rather than being resilient.

I need faith; in the end You'll make it alright
Hope, when I can’t see it,
But doubt locks me...
So I flake and fawn, and fake it.

Somewhere, deep inside a voice full of trite,
Says: get over this ****.
And doubt blinds me,
So I quieten my ego and have a go of it.

To know one's heart is to unlock yourself from the darkness of the mind; freeing the soul to live Its true self.

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!

"I want to know what love is!"
The ballads croon...

A yearning I can't dismiss.
Seeking love in all the ‘right’ places,
But come up short,
heart strewn, finding no traces —

Straying in dares and when curiosity flares,
Overwhelming sensations birth animosity.
Pushed down, down, down deep below,
dormant, to 'fit in’, the bitter ‘pill,’ I swallow.

Much older now, can I claim my truth?
A Christian? Does that free me: a rebirth?

Am I ‘queer as f#@k’?
Can I truly love without feeling stuck?
The heart requires courage,
But weak am I; keep praying for marriage.

Am I a hopeless case?
Or will I love and truly embrace?

Will I ever be free?
To be fully me?
Or will I keep denying,
and forever friggin' trying
to fit the mould
told of this world?"



f#@k!!! f#@k!!!

Our culture places little value on resting,
being.
Yet,
resting is vital to replenish.
Our twenty-four / seven treadmill lifestyle still falls short.
Blinds us to the fruit of stillness needed by our nephesh.
Be still,
Listen,
Wait,
Feel the beat
It’s calling all of us to one.

Possessed with the urge to do;
Can't settle until things ensue.
Reminding myself of the past; all shall be fine,
You can play, you have time!
Life ebbs and flows,
release the shakes, and go,
Wade in the waters,
Go where there are no borders.
Grieve,
And believe.

In the valley, isolation befriends,
Death knocks; a welcoming relief from suffering.
The joy that once bloomed, suffering now looms.
Nipping at our heels, pain doesn’t rest, but
Lingers around every simple pleasure.

I have a seat at the table,
I will feast til I'm unable!

You’re not going to make it,
You can’t,
You won’t.
Give up.
The expectations are too high,
You'll have to fake it!
Come back down to earth.
The ego taunts me with dreams,
And I feign interest by capturing their record.
But why bother?
What will they amount to?

I surrender.
The wars of my ego,
Exhaust me.
I look back
And remember victory,
Because looking forward
Just seems like fantasy.
What is this state of being, exile?!
Life, call me back.
Help me, plant my hope again.

You numbered me!
My hair, quirks, looks and glares,
What a great mystery!
Held and aware, even trials you permit as fair.

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.

Live, right now,
You're awake,
And healing.
Everyday.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

You're alive__
And living,
Grab it,
Embrace it,
Relish all things.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

Don't waste time,
Dwelling on the past,
When you weren't perfect;
They were wasted worries,
They added no life,
But subtracted,
From the promises of pure possibilities.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

Live now!
And not in the future,
When you're a mother,
Lover, poet and peaceful.
Live now!

When you bounced across my path
The other day, you caught me
By surprise.
Seeing you up so close
Made me laugh with joy,
Reminding me to be
Present with open eyes.
Your majestic body, mastercraft!
One kick, deathly.
Present moment, realise!

Throw away the net
of protection
in this world:
jobs, material possessions,
health and fall,
fall into the arms of love.
Trust you will be held,
Held in deep security,
by the Maker,
who wrote your days
before.

You are my safety net.

My curls, full and voluminous, I treasure
Each one tells a story.
People flock to touch,
Grasping them like gold,
They ask: “How did you get them such?”
“Are they natural?” Some scold,
In a world full of fakes, that hits like a punch.
“Yes!” I reply with pride,
My curls are my mane, grabbing them, I scrunch,
Jealousy can slide!
My curls are my shield;
They mask my doubt, comparisons
Much profit they yield!
You can tell a lot from my curls:
When I am tired and lazy,
When I treat them like 'my girls,'
When I'm sassy and crazy.
When they’re not washed for weeks,
My mental health radar
Send me obvious tweaks -
“Don’t disconnect, come back, savour,
Reconnect with yourself and the world,”
My curls are my most significant feature;
My crown of glory.

I've just got mirrored doors
On my cupboard,
They open my room up far and wide;
Once a shoe cupboard,
My room was small and dingey,
now it's light and open.
Very far from stingy.
But now I can see, more…
All of me,
All that I do,
And say.
I want to take off
Those mirrored doors,
And hide where I can't be
Exposed.

More complex than Pythagoras;
A bland pallet beckoning discovery, calling intrepid adventurers to see the beauty in the desert.
Causing admiration and repulsion; Frankenstein-esk, forever a mystery.
Days numbered as the hairs on your head; a cold case beset for the archives or a small child screaming “pick me!”?

Shame...
Makes me want to hide.
Pull the covers up,
Remain inside.

Shame...
Muddies the water,
Robs me from being authentically me;
Bona fide, don't falter.

Shame…
Distorts reality,
But it's banality, so
Relax the hyper-vigilanty.

Shame…
Is like two *******,
Whispering about my defects
Keeping me in stitches.

Shame…
Is an unwanted cloak
That I'm taking off now,
To live, bespoke!

I try and I try; pressing down, running it under hot water, squeezing until I cry,
But alas I am a magician with no tricks left; a poet with no sentences to string; an armless mannequin.
As Abraham did, I ventured outward bound, to a land of strong-armed jar-openers, who of it can be said? Who can be found? I need me a husband?!
I knocked and I knocked;  no answer sound, but a stranger stepped forth; his arms weren't big but his mouth wide and he opened the jar, I smiled.

Mystery;
That is faith.
But can we have faith
in this world?
When it is so broken;
How did Michael Jackson’s face change?
Struck me while I sat
In church wondering the mysteries
Of the world.
Was it he who changed,
To fit into the world?
Facelifts: nip here and tuck there?
Was it nature?
Pigmentation malfunction?
Or us, who could not handle change,
That made him alter to
Make us feel less uncomfortable?
How different have we become
To make others feel safe,
But in doing so,
Fundamentally,
Lose ourselves altogether?

Winter falls, casting a white lace undergarment
of frost on the morning ground.
Time of death, dormancy, dependence.
What am I to give up in this season,
Ready for the rebirth that is to come again?

You can stop,
turn everything off
And be still.
Enjoy the peace;
It’s been foreign for far too long.
Come back to me,
and be still.

Embrace the fragile, fresh air,
skin up on edge, hairs
raised in defence and be still.
Drink the fresh air deeply,
never been breathed in by me,
by someone else, but not me,
so be still.

What is true and what is false,
Swirls all around, sending us Into the abyss.
Off course, from our source,
We need to disconnect, from that source.

Cone back, retract,
and realise that
All you need is within you
Right here and right now

Don't fret and regret,
While trying to get your needs met
By others and in
Things,  that will never last.

All I need is within me right now
All I need is within me right now

Discipline your tongue
From lashing out at yourself
And others. Tame
It into a calming balm.

Don't fret and regret,
While trying to get your needs met
By others and in
Things,  that will never last.

All I need is within me right now
All I need is within me right now

Poems pepper every waking wonder,
all peccadillos are fodder,
for the poetry potting mix.
Perfectionism once the precipice,
although still my poking stick,
creativity is my ignition, really revs my engine,
and, I hope will burn brighter.
Poems take me away, far, far away,
to a world so wonderful,
I wake up thinking of no other.

Cool autumn day,
Sunny and fresh,
Brimming with possibility.
Seedlings bought,
To be planted and sought,
And plant pellets to feed
the garden, come what may.
Shades of orange peppers on the lawn
Leaves lay scattered, tired and strewn.
To rake or not,
Begs an opportunity.