Careless Heart

Vile mind, insolent flesh

Bury deep within me and

Retreat unto yourself, for

Never shall I admit to you, nor

Carry you as my own.

Careless heart, wander not;

I entreat to you, leave me not:

And never shall I relinquish my grasp

Upon your selfish, beating, sickening, twisting,

red-supple tissue.

Oh! how you try to slip from my clutch

Slimy and wily, waiting for me

To forget for the barest of moments,

That I must hold onto you -

Lest you are freed to ravage fully:

To undo the thread of my moral mind,

To lay bruises in your wake,

   (like blooms of blood under fragile skin)

To implode and leak on the remnants of

This soul; that so splintered and broken,

Shattered and torn, does you justice. 

Beauty in the Unexpected

I just got back from a walk in the rain. It's amazing how much going for a walk is always able to clear my head. Before I go I usually think I'll be bored without music to listen to, but with each step I take it's like the fog in my brain gets cleared away; until I'm left with only the truth - without anything being clouded by doubt, worry or anxiety. Everything seems to be put into perspective.

I realise it is useless to get so depressed about all the atrocities in the world. Overwhelmingly the people you meet are good, and kind, and don't want to hurt others. For all the bad things out there, there are so many good things too, and hopefully more. When you walk, and you take the time to look around you, you see all the things you might have missed if you had just been striding purposefully along without noticing. You see that even in a street filled with tar and concrete and warehouses, there is life pushing up out of the footpath. Even though it's a weed, when the sun emerges from the clouds for a moment, reflecting off the damp concrete and illuminating the leaves, it's just as beautiful as any flower.

Water rushes along the side of the road, washes down driveways, unencumbered. If you close your eyes it could be the background of any meditation music, trickling over pebbles in a stream. You glance between two houses, beyond a cluttered driveway, and are momentarily stopped by the image of deep, dark blue sky, enhanced by the gray and white clouds not quite covering it, over a green hill in the distance.

The rain continues in a sun shower and there is something about the light reflecting off the path you walk on, something about the path ahead being framed by trees, and flowers with their dripping leaves, that you can't even say why it draws you.

A random backyard, otherwise nondescript, features a spooky tree that looks like an extra from a horror movie, one that would seem more at  home next to a mysterious manor, yet is kooky for how out of place it is here.

And on the final stretch, away from any manicured gardens or precisely planned flower beds, is the prettiest shade of magenta that you have to stop, to reach out and touch it.

Maybe these things only hold magic for me but nonetheless I found beauty in the unexpected. And as I enjoyed finding all these things I felt the mental clarity of realising what is important and what is not. If I want to write, I damn well just need to write. It doesn't matter if I can't think of a good plot or I don't know where it's going, as long as I write something. It doesn't matter that I've missed a lot of opportunities in my life, what matters is that I take the ones I have now.

Struggling with Belief

It's hard to admit, even to myself, after being born and raised a Catholic, that I don't believe in God. A part of me, even now as I type this, struggles to relinquish the belief completely. At the very least I think I can say that I don't feel like I am a Catholic anymore. I haven't been a practicing Catholic, and by that I mean going to Mass, for at least 5 years. If I choose to go to Mass on Christmas or Easter, or get married in a Church, I think in my heart it is for sentimental reasons; because that is the tradition I was raised in.

Why am I thinking about these things? Well, I just found out that a friend of a friend, someone that I had seen from time to time at parties, was on the flight MH17 that was shot down over Ukrainian airspace. At only 25 years old, after travelling for 7 weeks in Europe, he was killed suddenly on the way home, for no good reason. When people encounter tragedy like this it often makes them wonder why there is suffering in the world, why bad things happen to innocent people, and how God, if he exists, could let this happen. For me it just reinforces my lately held belief that there is no rhyme or reason to these things in life. They just happen. They can be utterly shit and devastating but it is just random.

The thing is, life IS what you make of it, (something which my Mum has often quoted), and what I believe in most of all is that life is frail and it is sacred; it is beautiful and sometimes it is devastating.

Who is God anyway? An omnipresent being, okay, maybe I can deal with that part, but the part about him being the one who gives us the rules for right and wrong, who judges and sometimes punishes, who dispenses suffering so that we can turn to him for strength? When religious people do good things or are generally good people, I don't think it is because they believe in God and follow a certain religion. The choices that people make are their own. For good or bad. Just like when religious zealots do horrible things in the name of their beliefs, their ability to lack empathy and hurt people and interpret religious writings in an extreme way is a human choice. The thing is, the "word of God", a religious text, can be interpreted in many different ways by people. Some people choose a peaceful interpretation of it, and some people choose to see it as an excuse to exclude others or even kill them. But those interpretations are completely our choices. Of course there are many different shades to the spectrum but on one side there are those who at heart want to be peaceful and empathetic, help others, treat others the way they would like to be treated; and on the other there are those who want to believe that only one way is right, perhaps they believe everything they read in the bible about what is right and wrong, and so they disapprove of homosexual people, or perhaps they believe that all non followers of Islam must be killed, or something like that.

I think I am explaining it badly but what I am trying to say is that people's choices to do what is right, or what is wrong, or some shade in between, are completely their own choices.

There are so many different religions and belief systems in the world, and have been throughout time, how could all of them be right or wrong? I think religion at it's heart is two things: it is a way of creating certain values and rules to live by (like the ten commandments), and it is a way of trying to understand the meaning of life and how we all got here and the reason for it. Basically, why are we here, and what should we do? I don't blame people for wanting to answer these questions, it is perfectly understandable and for the most part there is no harm in it. When religions help the poor and needy that is great - but there are plenty of atheists who are kind and do good deeds. And there are terrorists that use religion as an excuse for murder - but there are plenty of atheists who do bad things as well. I guess what I am trying to say is that whether you are a good person or not has nothing to do with whether you are religious or believe in God.

If there is a God I don't think he would want people to be killing or doing bad things in his name. I don't think he would want people to be judged for their sexuality. All the interpretations of God that exist in the world are just that, interpretations - human ones.

I have found it hard to stop believing in fate but everything that I have learned in life seems to have lead me to this point. On one hand it is sad, but on the other hand it gives one the freedom to make the most of their life and appreciate every moment they have. If I believe in God, it is maybe as a divine force that connects all things and gives them life, the most precious gift. And humans were given an extra gift, the ability to love and be loved.

Sigh, I started this post feeling so sure of what I was trying to say, and now I am just even more confused.

Sitting at my piano

Sitting at my piano,
I can see the sky
hear every changing colour
and shadow that passes by

I can feel the water's edge
Or the haunting sound of night,
Footsteps that once walked
Anything beyond my sight

Can a melody paint a picture?
When you believe unseen
The notes will take you anywhere
A feeling as ever been

Drifting

You swam away on the seas,

away from me.

and in my dreams I see you drift away

I tried, I tried,

to reach out to you

But I can hold no sway here

nor in the cataclysm of life

that happens sometimes -

or most of the time.

Nor in the power of the sky,

of the earth and the wild winds;

whose mighty gale took you,

without a second thought of me

I’ll say goodbye

and I’ll never know why

this crash of time and space and

who knows what,

ended up hurting us –

splitting us apart

I don’t ask for reason

I know now there is none to be had

when it comes to that whole question at all -

everything just is, and was, and will be

The march of time left you behind, and

I’m so sorry,  

that the wave didn’t  take me too –

but I’ll always be dreaming of you.

Transforming Energy

My pen has potential energy

Its ink sits waiting for words to be written,

For lines and curves and dots

To become thoughts and prose

An undulating ribbon taking shape.

The ink hasn’t becoming anything yet,

       but it will.

It merely awaits my creative energy to

transform it.

Paralysis

I’ve spent so long in this room

I think it has assimilated me.

The dust has settled down around me

I’m another quiet piece of furniture,

Another piece of clothing

                      carelessly strewn

Cold and still

Time calmly moves on without me,

It doesn’t think of me as it leaves me behind

I watch it wash over me

Like a wave washes over the same stretch of sand -

But gradually tears it away grain by grain,

Unthinking

Relentless

Soon I start to suffocate

In my little silent room

I long for something

                                     What?

Her Secret Garden

The sun no more high in the sky,

Bright light has turned to long shadows,

Autumn’s embrace clutches tighter

As a cool wind blows over cracked leaves:

Behind our house and little garden,

A rusty hinged, vine encrusted gate,

Opens onto quiet woods;

Whose melancholy gaze upon my sister’s window

Never fails to elicit the desire to explore.

Pantomime

Cracks appear on my skin

Slowly splitting me apart

I grow more tired by the day

With every brand new start

This time it will be better

If Einstein’s right I’m mad

But I want so much to believe it

To ignore the experience I’ve had

For a while there I’m brighter

The world suddenly makes sense

But pretty soon I’m down again

To the path that led me hence

I’m no longer so young to make

The excuse that’s there every time

Next time it will be better;

The old repetitive mime

by Genevieve