Departure

Tags

Dreams, Grief, Hopes, Life, Loss, Middle-age, nature, poetry, Time, Writing

The same spirit who kept me 
from harm carried me to the
sea last night, where I waded 
in, waste deep. Most noticeable 
was the pitchblack of black, 
having no discernible shade
and the sea swell welcoming 
me with one arm and rejecting 
me with the next. And then I 
plodded back, taking the sea 
with me, like it was any other 
day and not something sad or 
tragic that smelled of grief, 
middle-age and lost dreams.

Hamlet, Act III, Scene I

Tags

Chores, Dreams, Hamlet, Humor, humour, Ironing, Life, poetry, satire, Shakespeare, Sleep, Washing, Writing

To sleep, or not to sleep? 
That is the question:
Whether it is nobler in the mind 
To kick-back and recline or 
Do battle with a sea of washing and ironing
To iron or to sleep; 
And by sleep to say we must end the rants:  
The thousand toxic socks,  and pants 
To wash, to sweep, or to sleep;
To dream perchance.
For in that sleep what dreams may come
When barely any washing's done
Must give us pause;
If we forgo our daily chores.
For who would bear 
The whips and scorns of time
Without bedsheets billowing on the line,
The pangs of Summer Breeze:
Bloomers flapping in the trees.
Who would grunt and sweat 
Under a weary life,
That the dread of long Johns and nighties
Puzzles the psyche,
And make us wish to scream louder
And dispose of our washing powder.
The conscience does make cowards of us all:
Make hands tender; wringing out our smalls.
The fair Ophelia, Tina, John, Brian, Sheila;
Removeth your pillow-cases, covers, 
Budgie-smugglers from display,
Thy housework need not be done today!

The Dream

Tags

Dreams, Hopes, Humor, humour, Life, Music, poetry, satire, Singing, Writing

The dream of me hitting the big time and becoming 
a number one performance artist and smashing the charts
hasn't gone quite to plan, now I sing purely for kicks, for 
my plants and street animals, and anyone who has the patience 
and endurance to go that extra mile whilst I squawk out another 
tired rendition of Bugsy Malone - some would pay to have me quit. 

And there isn't a name for what pours from my lips and 
it hasn't a genre, it's a confabulation of all the misplaced 
notes that never made the cut. 

It's hopes and dreams and agony foaming from my mouth 
and bubbling up from the inner recesses of my very soul. 
It's devil may care laced with a degree of piousness. Indeed, 
I sometimes believe I have the power to affect the world.  

    

Perceptions Of Life

Tags

Dreams, Life, Perceptions, poetry, spiritual, Truth

The world will tolerate you for only so long
because the world isn't living your life,
it won't hold you there or carry you off, it's an 
uncomfortable truth every one of us must face
eventually. What it all boils down to in the end 
are our own unique perceptions of life: Like 
monsters who intrude upon your dreams, and 
would disrupt your every waking moment if 
you allowed them to.   

Imagine

Tags

Dreams, Imagination, Philosophical, poetry, Writing

To imagine is to articulate our dreams in a manner 
so simple as to be truly realised, to be believed.   
Perhaps there is nothing beyond imagining then,
to reveal our true nature. 

What Dreams Do You Have When You’re Alone At Night?

Tags

Dreams, Kiss, Love, Planets, poetry, spiritual, Stars, Writing

What dreams do you have when you're alone at night?
What visions do you foresee in the stars? Can I ride along 
with you at some future date or are you destined to travel 
alone? If not this life, I hope to catch you in the next.
I have more words, dreams of us, than there are planets,
tonight I resolve to tell all upon a kiss,  
Is not the combination of dreams and elements what we 
truly desire? Or have I lost my way, and all things shall burn 
and die in my heart tonight and turn to asphalt. When the world  
changes course once more, we'll react: Send your wishes up, 
along with your desires, I can detect them even as far off as 
space. Would you have me send you mine? 

A Life Less Ordinary

Tags

Challenges, Dreams, Future, Life, poetry, spiritual, Writing

I have put my troubles behind me like old news, 
like I'm just stepping out for the very first time into a brand 
new world. This is not the season for regret or to console 
myself with hasty gifts: To furnish myself with enough 
fine jewels or glamorous gifts, only the right amount will 
suffice. Or vague assurances of hope, sufficient to fill gaping
gaps, as a temporary fix. Or to consolidate my fears for the 
future into a single wretched mass. But the season to observe 
from a distance, like it was someone else's life I were living, 
I'm keenly taking notes and forming ideas, constructing a 
plan I thought of only today based on evidence. An animated 
vision of the future in the face of any challenge, of a life 
less ordinary. 

Dreams

Tags

Dreams, Life, Love, poetry, spiritual, Writing

For now, we've placed our dreams on the shelf. 
But let's not forget about them, they are still there 
waiting to be lived. I'm not prepared to write them  
off just yet. Maybe next year fortune will be on 
our side or we'll adopt a different outlook -
who knows. Life has a way of mixing things up,
and surprising the most pessimistic among us.