I still see you as a little girl,
With your whole life ahead.
But now, you are missing,
Becoming a statistic instead.
At not yet 14, you are out roaming the streets, 
drinking. and. only God knows what drugs you are taking,
You are somehow finding comfort there than at home, beneath your sheets. 
Come home, Coco, we are missing you,
Come home, Coco, these teen ways are not you.
I know when your mum and dad split,
It split you too.
But come home, Coco, with love
And with better choices, your true life can be found.

When I asked my mother
What she sees when she looks at me,
She fondly replied: “My girl!”
Warmth filled my heart.
With those worthy words,
Such a visceral response received.
Is that what truth and joy feel like?



~ Love ~

he was looking at them
searching for answers
but all he could see
was their vacancy;
their eyes hollow and shallow,
he ceased.
his dreams evaporated,
and his spirit deceased.

Here I was thinking
I looked all dapper:
With my cream pants,
Cteam top with a woven stitch waver,
And my cream suit jacket.

My royal blue glasses
Shielding my eyes from the rays of the morning sun,
But a small nick to my pinky finger
Left blood stains a run…

We all walk around life
With our pains imprinted in our skin,
And sometimes clothing.
As much as we try to hide in,
Wash away impurities,
We are left stained --
With life.

I put on Jean Paul Gautier for women this morning,
but the pungent that befell on me was cut grass,
From the house next door,
freshly mowed this morning.
As I waited for my lift to work,
The smell permeated my skin
And my inner being;
A fresh start to my day!

Come,
Dip your toes in,
Delight in the silky cold
That refreshes both
Body and spirit.
Notice how your breath
Gasps, reciprocally stiflingly 
and in liberation.
Come and enjoy
The simplicity.

The scent of the garden,
Left its traces on my hands,
As I danced around pulling weeds
and disposing of them in bands.

the tears are deep,
deeper than my skin.
they come up from the deep,
fears and lost dreams from within.
the tears that come
from all the lives not taken,
the tears are cries
from all the paths mistaken.
the tears were all
the dreams I've shaken
and nothing comes from
but only depression was awakened.
but then the tears were a release
from all the sorrows brazen.

I found myself, this morning,
Participating in a ‘new’ sport.
Though timeless, reaching back to my youth.
As the days curb closer, the end of the year nears,
So do the shadows stretch out before me.
Chasing shade spots, as I pounded the pavement,
trying to hide from the sun, which was already 
shooting shards of heat and demanding her dominance.
Shade then became God’s grace revealed.

life is full of good times,
bad times and everything
that blurs the lines.

my good times vary,
overseas trips, and
my heart doing flips.

but the bad times,
they run the same script;
you aint good enough, never will be, what a trip!

now, the in-between,
seems so dull not to mean
anything, but it's mine.

my life is full
of good times,
bad times and
everything in between.

To survive?
Or thrive?
Is the goal the drive, or a means
To an end?
What end?
What's propelling you forward,
Is it social, political, economical?
Or some other reward?
You are more,
So open your eyes and explore,
Your heart... soul;
Let your spirit soar to that goal,
Higher, seek the ends of the earth for more;
Your core.

We miss take many steps, opportunities and decisions,
All throughout our day,
Shall we see them as demon disasters? Or hidden
Gems along the way?
Even today, mistakes were made,
And regrouping, re-evaluating and redirecting were essential, I’d say.
If I decide they were wrong and a waste,
I’d be in a spin, and Miss Perfectionist would get a wealthy pay.
But, if I choose, they could instead be wisdom pearls,
In which to collect and treasure where they lay.
Then I could re-take, learn and grow,
And I’d stay, not run away, enjoy and play.

Rome wasn't built in a day;
Life isn't a task to be ’completed’
Puzzles are to be enjoyed,
Complexities marvelled at,
One bite-size at a time.

As I de-program to reprogram,
The big picture held
Open-handed, eyes wide, spirit ready, mouth agape to wield
The mysteries deposited, and
The rich tapestry revealed.

As I wake up, the reality sets in.
I want to close my eyes and, hide from the fear within.
Life is a struggle of continually believing,
It’s easy to give up, but in You, I am anchoring!

I have a go, but look to others to affirm.
I am unsure about this world, naivety burns within.
I still have hope, I cry to the Spirit to discern,
I want success, a feeling of capability I yearn.

It is the season of play,
So, this heavy burden with you away!
It’s time to dream and let my inner voice have its say,
It’s the time for discovery, and finding my way.

The path may look well-trodden,
But no one’s walked mine in the modern.
So, don’t give up, pull yourself up from Soddom,
There’s more to life, you haven’t forgotten!

A thought just came across my mind...
What am I worrying about?!
I am alive and living,
Yes, there are threats all around,
But I am not under threat.
I am not at war or in war, causing me to sweat,
Like many civilians around the world...
MANY CIVILIANS vulnerably unfurled.
Yet a war wages within,
Daily, hourly, minute by minute.
So stop this combat zone, dim it.
Don't think,
But do. Do love;
Loving-kindness to myself and above.
And others whom I meet
to stop the violence in the street,
And the traumas falling at my feet.

an early morning riser
gets the worms.
the saying goes,
or is it more like:
worries she burns?

Quenching my thirst,
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,
I gulp (ladylike, of course)
tepid water, slowing my burst
to match the quiet calm,
I catch a glimpse of new birds
playing on the army-cut grass,
short and sharp. Need for replenishing balm!
I smile; a 90's tune comes to mind,
but with a 'fresh' take:
"my mowing [milkshake] brings
all the birds [boys] to the yard..."
La la, la la, la. Grind!

This morning I mosied,
Literally and figuratively.
A new experience, not,
But today I felt myself as this person:
A mosier!
Shuffling around my house,
Not yet ready to really rise
But hungry and praying for a surprise.
And, I s’pose I found one in this word!
A smiling Mosier am I.

****, clang, ****, the cash registers mixed with purchase bags, screaming children, and weighty wallets bleat out an all too familiar song,
We know the tune well,
Heavy debt, unhappy recipients, bloated bellies,
It’s all hard to digest,
Santa or St Nicholas, however, you connect to this festive season, how did we get it so wrong?
But it’s not all so bad when we stop and remember...
Love, connection, and grace; can we look deeper into each other’s faces, and
See the longing, step forward, and open our hearts to embrace the feeling of belonging.
It’s not a weakness, but a necessity, it’s humanity.
But while we compete with the almighty dollar, and with our eyes turned, disgusted by the revered collar,
That was meant to protect but became the perpetrator.
A source of truth, and a way to follow, taken from us,
By *******, power has corrupted and peace has shattered the illusion,
Santa and Nicholas may not have to leave the South Pole anymore, if they do, they may get the new familiar no-talent ‘****.’

You flutter your flighty, fleeting tunes,
Lift us too, beyond,
To the stars and moon —

Where do our prayers go,
When we put breath 
to our hopes and woes?
Do they float up to Heaven,
Or become a bereft flow,
never to be enlightened?

Asking faithfully so,
with lists full of prayers,
going back decades low.
Some answered joyfully,
but many more not, leaving me wondering...

So, I was feeling tired this morn,
dizzily walking headlong into a heat storm.
unable to quickly reboot,
so I put five beans in my porridge soup.
the so-called 'magic beans'
didn't have the desired effect [insert scream],
but sent me back to bed,
with my arms wrapped around my head.

The controller sits in her tower,
Blasting down commands:
Do this, and do that,
Reverberating are her demands.
How to calm her bellow? I ponder.
How did she get so loud?!
But then, sometimes it's so subliminal,
Her messages that silence the proud.
Silence is deathly, it kills life when left unchecked,
Is it peaceful or suffocating?
Is it healing or is it a tragedy?
Can I change? Or is this how she'll be for the duration?
I have hope in you oh Lord,
That you will calm the controller.
I have trust in you, oh Lord,
But I just have to let out this holler...

a bee buzzes,
a scream shrills,
a horn honks,
but silence...
silence...
Silence sounds...
it's not the absence of sound
but much more,
more than I expected
in the lows of loss.
It's like waves...
clashes of particles in the air
and tumbling together
in a rush of fusion,
movement.
Silence is not...
lack,
but an abundance,
of more...
more possibilities,
new ways of hearing,
new ways of feeling...
being...
MORE.

Clone stamps don’t exist,
Heaven's kiss only breathes originals.
But when darkness overwhelms,
It’s hard to embrace lovingly,
The slump of a body,
The shadowy figure,
The shallow intimacy it gives out,
So they are overlooked, not seen, not valued.
Commodity is an exchange price,
And if your invaluable tag has been ripped off,
Who can speak of your true value?
Back to the breath.
Recreation can commence for the adventurous,
New life with wisdom,
How ripe a red wine will that drop be?

yearnings called me back deep,
pulling me in the opposite direction.

Haste not,
Let beauty brew
and bubble,
becoming more thorough
through the rubble.

What does Snow White see,
When she looks in the mirror?
Does she like what she sees, freely?
Or does she, like me, look
With dismay, and say, 
"Oh, my skin is not as white,
As yesterday, I won't go out and play
Today, I will stay in and away,
Because people will say 'she's not so fair'."
It's not fair that weight of expectation,
and the wait for ultimate perfection.

Does loving your neighbour 
Just mean those next door?
Or those in your church community?
Or those who you adore?
It is the lost;
Homeless,
Hopeless,
Heartless,
Anyone needing more,
Here and across the world;
The global community
Be there for.

I have empty boots strewn
on my back deck.
I have empty boots still
in my cupboard
not yet walked their ordained path.
I have empty boots
and empty dreams,
not really living,
or so it seems.
Where would have those steps taken?
Who would I have been?
Where could I now be if I took those steps of my wishful making?

who knew
ten years ago
writing to process trauma
would
make my heart
and mind stronger
and open my world
to new ideas, people and order,
even make me live longer?!

It's surely made me wonder,
observe, admire and sonder
in many a world
where I'd like to yonder
and ponder
new ways to phrase
my inner yearnings
and sift out foolish fodder.

These are the best days of our lives, or
Are there better days to come?
No more sorrow, no more pain, so much more to gain,
When we trust in the rising Son,
Now, smile. Joy thrives;
Saved lives, new creations, in time with the eternal drum.

There is a
Time to learn
Time to make mistakes
Time to cry
Time to **** up
Time to make bread
Time to read
Time to love
Time to be hurt, and a
Time to hurt –
Time to apologise, and a
Time to forgive. 
Time to respond, rather than react
Time to rethink
Time to drink coffee
Time to let the dawn of new promises wash over me
Time, rebirthed and reclaimed,
The most precious commodity. 
But sometimes there's no time at all.
Oh, how we mistake its insignificance by drowning ourselves in unhealthy times.

Night hung in the heat.
Naked sleep offered no relief.
Even as morning creeps
rain tries to poke holes
in the heavy air,
but only a ‘dust devil’
is accomplished!

Remember when you licked the beaters
As your mum baked cakes?
Nostalgia of innocence teeters,
Recaptured on my lips
Today, after making meringue
For a raspberry daquise.
Fabulously, fruity favourite, heart-sang,
Laughing afterwards as I notice a leftover moustache.

Little by little,
I am being transformed.

Moment by moment,
They can’t be ignored.

For a long while,
These changes I could not see.

I would look at others,
Comparing them to me.

And all the while,
I was dying on the inside.

It’s happened for so long,
The many tears I have cried.

But now, 
There’s less of a fight.

And now,
I have courage in spite.

It’s not for anyone else,
This journey’s for you and me.

This journey is pivotal,
To authentically be.

Opportunity after opportunity,
some could say leads to discontinuity
Or spontaneity?
Can it lead to deity?
Frailty, surely, will come,
But we can spark that with
originality?!
Frivolity can be a gateway,
To birthing new possibilities.
Imagine the ingenuity!

My birthday song
was sung by the birds this morn,
they greeted me
with kisses from Heaven.
Their gleeful singalong
bounced me out of bed headlong,
a spring in my step,
despite being age-strong,
I look forward
to celebrations all day long.
Grateful to be alive,
to witness this very day!

one year on.

One. All. Together.
Unconflicted;
Congruent,
Powerful.

How can we blindspot traumas and tragedies; wars?
But when consumed with ourselves,
our daily ‘stories’ and chores
We take our eyes off the sacred,
on to the trivial, but today they’re on Yours.
We remember the lives lost in conflict;
Lives lost in efforts for peace.
We remember and our praise we do not restrict!
I tremble at the thought of 40+ wars
Currently raging around the world at large,
May peace and forgiveness conquer despite our many collective flaws.

At church this morning,
As we were saying 
The Lord's Prayer
There was a thump and a crash,
Then the drums went boom, boom, boom
The congregation gasped,
The drummer collapsed: and fell.
It was both shocking and devastating,
He embodied the mystery of life and the fall,
But thankfully 
There was a Doctor in the house;
Heaven on Earth!
Allayleuya!

Wow! I just had a flashback,
To the ‘good old days’
When there were no cars
And everyone says,
‘Hello, how are you?'
We’ve streamed ahead so fast:
Hundred miles an hour,
But going nowhere that will last.
And yet, there was a bright spot 
This morning, when a lady
Rode her horse right by me,
I stopped at the same cafe, 
where I was drinking my coffee.
I was so surprised, I gasped,
And even took a snap.
I needed that, to get me out
Of my nap, and indulgent life choices.

In five seven five
We watch the wave reach the shore
And watch it tumble out.

I just caught a little lizard,
Scuttling around my bedroom.
It made me gasp, and catch my breath before I could scoot forward.
When I first noticed it, I let it go because I didn't have any ‘pets’ and it wasn't harming me p)
But when I saw it twice, action spurred me.
So hunting I went, spying also for mice,
Caught it and took it out to the garden to set free,
And free me, from the outside jungle invading my space!

Our days are but grains of sand
Some more significant
But all secure, set apart, grand
In the eyes of those who matter

Love each day
Full of life-giving breaths
Embrace the exquisite play
Of life, even now.

Glued, we’ll stop and sit
And watch that race capture our Nation.
We admire the breed, stamina and steed
Both mare and filly together.

We may get dressed up,
Even if we’re not there trackside.
Big-brimmed hat or bunched boutique,
Mini skirt or pant-suit joined
With man on hip wearing a top hat.
We whistle and cheer,
Throw our hands in the air
As the horse rounds the bend.

We feel so close to the action
That we’re all bopping up and down
As if we’re the ones striding,
But it's the TAB that's riding us!

When we all bet on our favourite horse;
The pink and yellow stripes,
Got me, I’ll smile and swallow
The next glass of champagne, or sparkling Chardonnay,
because we’re in Australia,
Far outside that region.

I remember grinning,
As I claimed my winnings -
gold coins and sipping sparkling cider,
And declared: yeah, I picked that rider!

Your eyes paint a barren landscapes --
But yet, I cannot look away.
They draw me in, deeper --
In a more familiar way.

Maybe

It's because
I see my soul in there,
Or maybe, just maybe,
It's because they free me not to care.

sorry, not sorry,
for being me.
despite the pains and trials,
there's no one else
I'd prefer to be.

I know my scars,
and idiosyncrasies,
they're frustrating
to no end,
but then, that's me.

BS, BS everywhere no authenticity to be found,
We all put up facades that ultimately **** us around.
Why do we kid ourselves,
Hiding our true selves,
Because the reality is too painful? so we bury our heads in the sand,
Rather than investing in self-care.