It’s so easy to think we are ugly… I have been there, have done it, still do it, am beginning to stop it….. I empathise…. but I also say, we see more of our own imperfections (what are those anyway!?) than anyone else does. I/we can easily say how beautiful I think you/we are, yet… that is a fleeting consolation to you/us unless you/we believe it ourselves…. I know you know this. There is something about living this life where one of our many lessons is to truly embrace our humanness, with our beauty, our ugliness, our suffering and our elation. At the end of the day, you/I/we are perfect in our imperfections and WE ALL make up the majestic mural of what it is to be gloriously human. You are stunning;
Howl at the Dark Horse.
Ashah ashah ashah ashah….wind rattles
my face, my life.
Leather, the reins
as I steam through dark night.
Breath seems so tight,
so determined, so hard
that my howling is cutting,
scarring the world.
I ride through the bracken
not afraid of Dark Horse
for she and me shatter
boundaries with force.
This terror is screaming
in sinew and vein
as my body convulses;
Ashah ashah ashah ashah…..
* dedicating this to all who suffer with invisible illness.*
~ The Voice ~
Alan Rickman 1946 – 2016
I feel as if I only had you
for a brief moment,
Somewhere out in
vast mystical wasteland,
there is vibration new ~
a chocolate velvet
clustered sound ~
you belong to many
yet to no one at all…..
nothing could be
Enjoy the Mystery.
I offer this up as a shout into the wilderness where the unjust rule….. I dedicate it to those I love who are suffering incessant blows to their lives and to all others in similar situations…..
*The Fracking of Lives*
Some people have lost everything,
some never had anything to lose….
Some are hopelessly unable to
survive their life crashing as it goes
on taking them down in spirals
on to their empty bellies…..
Some governments help those in need,
others place invisible guns to their heads
and say…. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help you”
as they employ no sense of human discernment.
Yet instead, they stick to their mindless, heartless scripts……
I’m praying on the knees of my heart tonight
for those who will soon have not an ounce more to give,
not voice left to rage with, no tears left to cry,
no home in which to feel safe enough to cry those tears…..
not a crumb to feed their children – not one of them will be safe.
And still, governments sit on benches lined with bloods of many
which they spin into fine wines, fine foods and capacious rooms.
They spike the minds of the poor and massage the backs of
of evil men of trecherous acts….
Yet behind the hallowed doors of their white houses
and in the shadows of tall clocks by deep rivers,
their smiles and pen strokes annihilate the broken and lost.
Do they see the poor and sick in their suffering?
No….. they smell the stench of vile acts they themselves commit,
as the suffering are led away to be shoved deep into graves;
the fracking of lives.
The rolling of the rain
shattering the silence
on muddy windowpanes….
Fire embers glowing hot & red
while bare feet stamp
defiantely on their way to bed.
Once she knew, or thought she did,
of where the code on how to live,
Yet now, mellow lines within
her ageing skin,
carry the stories of
of her kith and kin …..
Like rain on dirty glass
is never to be truly clean
so the tears which flow,
tumbling, quietly down between
the voices in her scrambled mind,
always, she would know,
her roots are never to be left behind.
I find I hold my breath,
as if nothing will get me
if I stay absolutely motionless.
Then at other times,
I notice I was once oblivious,
the horrors of the damaged world
invisible to me, I thought all to be beauty.
Most of the time now,
I have apparently woken up in hell,
caught in the trap of seeing the non beauty,
having forgotten to stay anchored to the reality
of the presence of both.
If I were Queen of Heaven,
everyone would have a crown.