Category: Blogging From The Heart


Stuck in Poetic Mode

I have a cold and I am not sleeping well. When I woke, I woke late, heavy, unrested and lethargic. The voice that spoke was by comparison brisk and business like

‘I know how you feel, I know how bad, ugly, rotten to the core you are’. The truth cut deep, a slash of self pity and the start of the slow bleeding slide into another day of dull depression. Sweet relief just a sandman’s whisper away but my soul is stuck in poetic mode.

‘I know how you feel, I know how bad, ugly, rotten to the core you are’.
 
And again
 
‘I know how you feel, I know how bad, ugly, rotten to the core you are’.
 
A chipper little voice, this Jimney Cricket of a character wasn’t going to let me put my head under the pillow today. THIS was a soul baby knocking at my door. There was nothing to do but write. And so:
 
I know how you feel
I know how bad, ugly, rotten to the core you are
How you want to rip yourself away from the flesh that is you
Raging, roaring, kicking, punching against the fibre of your being
I know how you drown, smothered, gagged, suffocated, suffocating
Writhing, clawing, tearing at the walls that are who you are
 
I know how you feel
I know the rage, spitting, livid, firey ire
Burning runways of smouldering fury through your soul
Destroying, exploding, killing love, kindness, compassion
Those mealy mouthed mother fuckers
I know how you are consumed
Inside the cage of your humanness
A twitching, flickering, putrid mass of toxic oozing pus
 
I know how you love to hate
I know how you despair
I am the evil bitch, the bully boy
Who wants to punish and obliterate all sign of milk and honey
Who wields a whip of righteousness and snuffs out unbecoming joy
I know the realness of this place
A landscape of the mind
Where goodness is a rag to the raging bull and destruction holds its sway
 
I know how real it feels
When those demons come to roost
Hideous heads and flickering tongues, devouring my flesh alive
I don’t know if I have been here before or if I never left
I don’t know if this is how it is supposed to be or if I am an aberration bereft
I don’t know if this is real, a dream, a play, a game or nought
I don’t know if I will survive, if love will save the day
I only know these words have come to grace the page and say….
 
I know

Painting The Future

photo: Anne K. Scott (c) 2018 Carrapateria, Algarve, Portugal

Painting The Future

I can’t see
I can wield
I can’t know
But I am sure
In my lostness
I am found
And in the hum of the Universe
My intentions
Are subtle brushstrokes
On the canvas of tomorrow

Still You Stand

‘If every remnant of success was gone from you — still you stand as the culmination of all that you’ve learned…’ @AbrahamHicks #CrossingFrontiers

The Art Of Be-Keeping

bekeeping

It is a busy week
I like that it is a busy week
I get to dive into the minutae of my projects
To walk along the cracks between the disjointed pieces of life’s puzzle
To teeter on the edge of fast appearing crevices
Heart stretched across the yawning divide of chaotic icy waters
Head butting against stubborn realities
Learning to gently herd unruly beasts
Through the bucolic landscape of my soul
Calibrating to the whispering caress of divine breathe
And mastering the art of be-keeping