She Told Me So

“I’ll tell of this love that I know”

She said to me one day

“So please, if your will should allow

Listen and hear what I have to say”

She spoke of the soil cushioning her

The grass tickling her ears

The sunflower towering above her

Yellow soothing and easing her fears

She told me of seeds and their spurt

How spirit moves heavens on earth

And the force that grounds deep roots

Is the same as us knowing our worth

“Don’t forget you are no different”

Her whispers I still hear

“What makes the sunset so beautiful

Is you seeking you, my dear”

And with all this love that I know

From the listened word, not spoken

I conclude that I was, all along

Whole, not once ever broken.

Is There?

Is there not this way inside

I can switch on like a TV

Is there a weed and a buttercup

Hidden deeply within me?

Is there not a song I’ve lost

Down trodden roads forgotten

Is there notes that weave away

The rocks at the very bottom

Is there not a deafening flow

Where grease is washed from my hair

Is there a me that is more than bones

And I witness both sides of the pair

Is there all of this and more

Cycled a million times through

These colours,

This dance

This patterned dream

This life I do how I do.

If There Is Such A Way

Surrounded by a million tones, not woven by me

And I cannot decipher one from another

But there is a symphony of perfection to be drank all at once

And I am drunk

Drunk on the shades of spring

Yet still I chatter a thousand woes, haunting the evening waves

Am I a lunatic?

For it feels the moon draws all that dwells involuntary

Would I choose this crazy distinction?

I’d rather root beneath the worms and grow without this trouble

Where all I would want is to slowly dance to where I rest most comfortably

Or to climb the walls, not afraid of position

Is this my prison, believing I am not such a way?

That fate is my own doing

I often pray my thoughts to be swiftly caught by an eagles claw, then released far from land

Filtered by the salt and dispersed upon the seabed, food for the fishes

Ideals I’ve collected, are they to sculpt me? Like hands without permission roaming my naked skin

I quiver

And may I throw that to the birds also

So how,

If there is such a way

Am I to be?

Bury Me

Bury me where the brambles grow 

Sliced by unforgiving thorns

Let my tears crumble 

Like salt drops repelling the slugs

But let them come 

And leave silver trails across my breasts 

Whose majesty I’ve only imagined

Let me feel the break in my bones  

And scream as discs slip and roots wilt

So shallowly planted by frightened fingers 

I have known to ask of moulding discreetly, to feel common amongst the mass 

But my shedding mimics no other 

What comes up, too big to fit

And the dirt under my nails 

The dirt now choking my rusty cords

Feeds the hunger I feel, surpressing the swell

Full on words I’ve never spoken 

And they claw deeper into memories, ripened words sculpt outside of me 

Developed in your world  

But fallen in mine 

I am calling you, death of a stranger 

I’ve known what I’m allowed 

But forgot why I yearned for less 

For a naked me, stripped bare for saviours sake

I request that my core, sore and bruised, may rot

Welcomed back home

Please bury me where chunks can be bitten 

Where I can feel worthy enough to feed the worms 

And grow again, live again

Die, again 

BestestĀ 

So said the dog ‘oh human, I’d really like to know, where exactly is the spot that biscuits like to grow?’
‘You know the ones you give me, to settle me at night, I’d like to find them for myself and take a crunchy bite’

The human laughed ‘oh dog, they do not grow on trees, they’re made by hands of human kind and travel overseas. See the biscuits that you eat, aren’t natural like the grass, they’re made of stuff I cannot spell and stamped to show they pass. Passed as what, I’m not too sure, but still you like to chew, they seem to keep you able, to do as dogs can do’

The dog was not too sure of this, as what should he then eat, if missiles were to hit the earth and kill off all the meat? ‘If that should happen’ the human said ‘you’d die as well, I’m sure.’ So said the dog, ‘how sad is that’ and cried into his paw.

The human and the dog, they hugged until it hurt, but then the human had a thought she couldn’t wait to blurt. ‘You see, we could get blown so high we find another planet, where I could be a butterfly and you could be a rabbit. And then we’d eat whatever’s there, be yellow, red or blue. We’d nibble on fresh pastures green or make a rainbow stew. Let’s hope that if this world should end our souls will stay together. To roam around this universe, best pals we’ll be forever’

#25 Grateful for Close Ups

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When the mind goes a little…

CRAP

THINK PINK

THINK BRIGHT HEALING LIGHT

THINK OF A STRAIGHT LINE

IT’S GONE!

FUCK

I CAN’T

I CAN

NOPE, I REALLY CAN’T

I DID IT ONCE I CAN DO IT AGAIN

You catch my drift.

Such chatter rides my waves, mainly storming up when I’m outside, when my anxiety roars ‘you’re agoraphobic, you can’t go outside without a fight!’

Screw it, there’s no fight to be had anymore. I don’t want to fight myself!

I don’t want labels anymore either. I don’t want to call myself something that doesn’t sit comfortably with me… and today I decided to think of myself as calm, at peace, able to go outside without feeling ‘weak’ (I think I may eliminate ‘weak’ from my vocabulary. No one is weak, we all have boundaries in different areas of life and these boundaries can always be expanded, should we choose).

So today, as I woke feeling particularly empowered, I thought ‘I’ll take advantage of this calm’ and went out for a run, then for a walk, then for another walk with the dog. High flying these days, ey? šŸ™‚

As I was out with the pooch, I felt the worry rise – of course it was going to, I’ve become so accustomed to ‘the fight’, worry wanted to play the rebelling game. What helps, what always helps is noticing nature. The birds, the grass, the muddy patches on the grass and the trees. The trees are medicine. I know I’ve said this before, over and over. Today, as my anxiety wanted to perform centre stage, I was distracted by falling head over heels in love with one particular tree – anxiety didn’t stand a chance.

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… And the close ups, oh boy. The colours, the textures, the light reflections, the rough and the smooth. Calm had come in the shape of a tree. Ask and you shall receive.

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Thank you for up close and personal. For beauty that is often overlooked as we worry or rush or think of our ‘to-do’ lists. NOW was (is always) full of natures miracles and what better way to spend our time, loving all that we are a part of, art by Gaia.

 

From Death

Could it be that I once flew

I spread my wings across oceans blue

Or could I once haveĀ slept in trees

And eaten the berries, the ants and the bees

With every breath I feel grasses grow

As waters stream through channels below

 

The bones of me were found in sand

Washed upon shores and carried to land

Sunsets kiss the rocks I’ve called home

Miles I’ve travelled to places unknown

All that I dream, Iā€™ve been there before

Iā€™ve cried many times, familiar to war

Wild are my eyes like the hunting bear

Like the tired boar and the frightened hare

So intricate is the nature of me

I’ll not question who I think I should be

As I am all the wonders of this earth

I am the cycle of life from death to re-birth