Back To The Pit

When I return

Back to the pit

Where fertile soil birthed the beginning, the word

And where endings are witnessed beyond the horizon

Where rocks have whispered and blossoms are nodding

“Yes, you’ve seen us before”

I remember the word

One word

In a place where nothing is neat

And to this place I will return

Like the burning of sage

The scent returns to the nose

The ash, back to She

The smoke, weaving through space to meet the spirit of maker

My descent

Shall be a one word affair

And heard only by the weary

As they’ve surrendered to the flight

Just as reeds in the wind

Offer no resistance

Nor shall I

When I return, back to the pit

To rise again

We

I forgot the existence of you

We were lost

And I clung, structure kept me up but my legs ached and my fingers were burnt by the sun I painted blue

But in that, I remembered again

There you stood

The beautiful flesh of your feet

Soaked by the oil of olives

And jasmine creeped through your toes

Amber seeped from your pores

So firm in you was the essence I’m to love

And not because of command

Because all I had to do was remember

We met before time framed expansions

Before corners boxed our union, branding the blocks as real

Remember the sight we surrendered?

As we bowed, foreheads kissing the soil and eyes closed, resting

Together we rose, below the blossoming buds

We spread our roots to feed, I give back that which I received from you

And when I forgot this

My veins pulsed with such force, too rapid for the void

Too fast for death to settle

In death, there is no judgement

In death, the flesh surrenders to where home began

In death we are woven

Rising to the saviour

That is we.

Nerves

When excitement comes

I think it’s right for me

But my body vibrates

And I’m sensing as I would, if stress were rocking the boat

So, in these differences I can talk myself through

But my body

She knows how the feeling flows

From one side to the other

Reaching the same heights.

Investments

I’ve made a decision to invest in my perceptions

Well, perception of my perceptions. I feel like I’m three layers away from the truth

And maybe no matter how hard I try, I’m always boxed within a role, a substance, a circumstance.

And that’s right or wrong or… fuck it

Sometimes I see it, that we’re tides giving the moon a hard time. “Stop doing your thing, so I can stop doing my thing. Let’s watch life die together”

And I had to look hard at myself. As when you invest in something you gotta have an understanding of the value before commitments are made

So, where’s my poverty line?

How down on myself can I stoop before I tarnish this penny? Pretty low. No-ones perfect

That’s what vinegar is for! And it really doesn’t take that long to work

The market is forever changing, this bustling creation, like figures typed onto a screen with closed eyes and wondering fingers

It is what it is, I’ve heard that before

I’m investing in my perceptions

What perceptions? You say

I hear you

How do I see things? The word ‘how’ is incredibly specific

I can’t indulge in specifics, there is no time for that, I’m an investor now

Time is precious

Wait, perceptions of time, am I running out?

I’ll pour more in, paint more seconds and dial tones that expand the circle. Introduce 13

Now I’ve enough

Enough bids stillness and I’m happy to raise my hand to that

Perceptions on a conveyer belt, that’s an invention I could invest in

Or invest in seeing before appearance

I wish I’d learnt long ago that the real value isn’t the matter, but the thought in-between

Permission Slip

There’s not much you need to do

Just a little nod

Like a permission slip to the moon

Let her call home the cells of you, the fibres and the threads

With songs your cells remember

As you forgot such a long time ago, remember? For what cannot be pronounced is what we call nonsense

But she knows, and her work is effortless

So you see, there is little you can do

Her healing is effortless, like the simplistic complexity of breathing

All you need do is give a little nod, “ok, I’m ready now”

And let him join in too, let him wrap his arms around you

His hand is already clasped within yours, you’re just squeezing so tightly you feel only the weight of your own force

Be a permission slip to the son, the spirit, the mother who knows your every step

There really is little you have to do

Just nod

And this currency we call life will not only fill you, vibrate you, pleasure you

It will empty you of all those torn paper notes

That cut your fingers and toes and play a sad tune

This universe is never without chaos but sadness, we can burn the branches of sadness and scatter the ashes.

There’s not much you have to do except show up

With nothing

Expecting nothing

Saying nothing

Holding a permission slip that you know was probably never asked for in the first place

Which Way?

I asked the sun so kindly

“What door shall I take?

Should I go left or right

This decision I can’t make!”

She smiled very sweetly

“You know what I’m to say

There really is no change

To what I said the other day!”

“So how about the left?” I said

“It may give me what I want

It’ll big up my ideas

In gold, italic font

Or maybe right is best

A way I’d never planned

Leaving the big city

Calling home sea and sand

Or… one day I’m in one

And another day, the other

One day I could have money

And the other day, a lover

Or right arm in the left door

And left goes in the right

Each hand fondling something

Keeping something outta sight

Another option is

I just stay where I am

So what do ya say, stay put?”

The sun replied “yes ma’am”

A Herb A Day

A herb a day

Keeps the doctor away

And calls in the witches

The white and the green

The rosemary sprig

The kiwi, the fig

All help keep me glowing

Through times hitting hard

The end of the tunnel

The light in my funnel

Isn’t further than reach

As we’re told it can be

And this delight I feel

I didn’t earn it nor steal

It’s a thought that I had

And decided to keep

When my health starts to tip

Herbal tea I do sip

And imagine my body

To be sparkly and well

That Vase

There’s a voice I heard once

When I put my ear to that vase

A scream I thought at first

Then a whimper

A song that trailed into a prayer

Or the other way around

A voice I’d not heard before

Until now, remembering that vase

I hear the tides

The mermaids

The witches finger that tickled my earlobe

As they did that day

And I’m not sure if life was ever the same after that

Or if life stayed the same but my eyes viewed differently

Or maybe I just listened more

Because the more I listen

The deeper I see

And in those depths

The volume of silence gets really deafening

And as I loosen my grip on noise

The unknown unravels

And maybe that vase

Was the beginning of my unravelling

Or maybe

I just heard myself more vividly within starry stained glass walls

It’s all a little strange, isn’t it

No matter what I write

Is nonsensical to someone

So the upside down

Of the mermaids tail

And the witches breath

And the starry glass

Are all mine

Until I listen to a bigger vase.