Adios Amigo, like Bart.
If Chemistry turns out to be insanity and things in common turn out to be things forgotten, and a unique bond turns out to be a common wrong...
What was once a spark is extinguished by time apart, a reality turned a little dark. Now you don’t feel so smart, Adios Amigo, like Bart.
Adios! For when there is no spark there is no start. Adios Amigo, like Bart! Adios! Adios! Adios!
VALentines day or VALidation day…
A day of VALidating the ones who are worth your time, worth your effort, worth a space in your mind?
A day of clarification, VALidation and filtration?
A day of separation, separate the men from the boys?
A day to discover any ploys to treat you as toys?
The considerate from the inconsiderate?
The serious from the unserious?
The day where the quality is definitely more important that quantity.
A day when the thought is really enough to count…
VALidation day, or Re-eVALuation day?
Be greatful for your VALS day it’s an indispensable weapon in the battlefield that is love.
A day you don’t have to wait for before you start to eVALuate your situation. Why wait a year?
Poetry
Dreams Mirrors and Cameras…
Dreams Mirrors and Cameras…
Sometimes dreams are like mirrors or cameras, they hardly ever lie.
They present a true reflection of what they see, based on whatever information they have as feed.
A dream reflects what the soul sees, what the soul feels that is…
Sometimes we are too busy to look in the mirror, but when we do, there it is, what we are and what we have become stares right back at us…
Sometimes this makes us smile and raise our hands and heads up high, but sometimes this makes us sigh, perhaps even cry…
A dream is a bit like a mirror, sometimes when we’re too busy or in denial, a dream reflects what our soul feels or wants.
It puts it there right in front of us as clear as day…
No need for fronts or punts.
Poetry, my poetry…
Poetry, let there be no assumption that the poetry I write is always an expression of my feelings. Poetry, or my poetry isn’t always about me.
Sometimes my poetry is just about what I see…
Sometimes poetry is just an expression of witnessed conversations, or my observations…
Observations about human relation and communications…
Observations about people’s reactions to situations, actions fuelled by passions that flowed from interactions across a variety of nations.
Poetry, my poetry, their poetry, our poetry...
Ok readers, I try to avoid changing my work once I have written it. This is because I like to write spontaneously…etc
I feel like nothing is wrong or right in poetry so I never feel the need to change a piece...
I feel like nothing is wrong or right in poetry so I never feel the need to change a piece...
However, on this occasion I felt that my previous post of this poem didn’t capture my point so I have changed it…
If time were affordable… (2nd Draft)
If time, is affordable?
It is! It is! It is I hear you say, time is affordable. People charge per hour to give advice that is perhaps considered quite sour, some charge to build steel towers or consult with those in power…
Again! Again! Again I ask, if time were affordable?
I’ve no concern with the rates charged to hear people think whilst jiggling ink or modelling in minks.
Money can’t buy time, not really, not nearly, no not at all. I say time isn’t affordable.
If time were affordable…
One pound, dollar or naira to regain an hour…
Regain an hour… an hour lost, what if?
1.6 pence for a minute back, get back that minute, take back that one thing too many said.
Or perhaps a sum of £50 million to skip back a decade or maybe just a year?
Or a grand for the chance to eliminate the time you encountered your worst fear.
Better still write off past tears …. Clear the debt of tears and somehow sanctify past years?
Pay to get that one moment back when there was a time for you to show you cared.
Pay to revisit a moment you lacked courage and failed to dare. ..
Again, what if time were affordable chargeable and such?
Bread, eggs, sugar, and time… in the basket, an idea sublime!
Time, time and time again, at some point we all desire more time….more time to pine, uncross that line or seek the divine…
Time, time, time! If it were affordable why would we feel the need to strive to shine?
Time…
Time…
Time…
Time, an unaffordable and necessary sign?
If time were affordable?
If time were affordable. (First Draft)
If time was affordable...
It is! I hear you say, people charge per hour everyday to be consulted in a variety of ways…
Again, I ask if time were affordable…?
I’ve no concern with rates charged to hear people think whilst jiggling ink.
Money can’t buy time, not really, not nearly, no not at all.
If time was affordable…
One pound, dollar or naira to regain an hour…
Regain an hour… an hour lost, what if?
1.6 pence for a minute back, get back that minute, take back that one thing too many said.
Or perhaps a sum of £50 million to skip back a decade or maybe just a year?
Or a grand for the chance to eliminate the time you encountered your worst fear.
Better still write off past tears …. Clear the debt of tears once accumulated or inflicted.
Pay to get that one moment back when there was a time for you to show you cared.
What if time was affordable chargeable and such.
Bread, eggs, sugar, and time… in the basket , an idea sublime.
Time, time and time again, at some point we all desire more time….
Time, time, time! If it were affordable why would we feel the need to strive to shine?
Time…an affordable yet necessary sign?
The World needs a Chilean Mineshaft?
Perhaps I need a Chilean mineshaft?
Perhaps we need a Chilean mineshaft?
The world needs a Chilean mineshaft?
What treasures could possibly be found shut off from all the noise in the depths of the dark San Jose mine?
Reflection? Perhaps even hope, faith, appreciation, a new found order of priority, a sudden thirst to survive embedded in a new found understanding and thirst for life?
Perhaps I need a Chilean mineshaft?
Perhaps we need a Chilean mineshaft?
The world needs a Chilean mineshaft?
A deep pit of isolation restriction and uncertainly?
The ability to forge new definitions instantly?
A deep pit of despair and contemplation with the means to instantaneously depreciate the value of Gold , the means to cast regret on every time one was not bold and prevented a new story of victory, substance or generosity from being told?
Perhaps I need a Chilean mineshaft.
Perhaps we need a Chilean mineshaft.
The world needs a Chilean mineshaft.
Only the strong can survive, surely to survive a Chilean mineshaft one must be as strong and as resourceful as the resources that the very mineshaft itself possesses?
Faith, willpower, courage, patience and the hope that one day from the darkest of places a Phoenix will come to our rescue. The hope or perhaps a certainty that a Phoenix will come and one would be winched up, out and into the light? Certainty that somehow someday one will take flight? Perhaps some will go in the thick of the night?
Perhaps! Perhaps! Perhaps...
Perhaps I no longer require a Chilean mineshaft, perhaps now I realise that I already have mine? I already have my own? We already have our own?
It has taken 33 men 70 days to discover the most precious treasures of all. How long would it take the world?
How big, how deep, and how dark would the worlds Chilean mineshaft have to be before humanity’s true natural resources can be unearthed? An eternity under mankind’s very nose and still...
Deeply
Rooted
Like a tree she stands still.
Just for now she stands still.
There is no swaying today no moving from side to side.
For today the winds are calm, the storm has cleared.
She like the tree stands still and firm amongst them.
She is the tallest amongst them, she clearly stands out.
Tall above the rest soaring in the skies, she dwarfs them.
Like the tallest palm tree on a sunny day she appears somewhat immovable.
Like the tallest oak tree in the deepest and thickest of forests she is strong
Her roots are firmly and deeply rooted.
Therefore she can never be easily uprooted.
Yes she may be chopped down, but this will not be with ease.
Surely her roots will remain solidly intertwined beneath the soil?
Hope in the form of a shoot, sprout, stem or a new branch then growth...
She grows and continues to grow all over again.
January 20th
If one man did not dream, if one man did not dare, if one man failed to speak, would they ever be standing there?
Well pigs must be flying & icicles in Hades, for today they are near. Some may even say that today they are there?
The old the poor, the victims of war, the young the rich they all witness it!
Yes! Oh yes! A new vibe in the air, some kind of new cheer, perhaps it slipped in with the New Year?
The spirit of hope latched on the promise of change?
Finally! Finally! Finally they dared not to fear. Possibility of change! From him this they did hear! Indeed! Indeed! The time had come for them to prepare.
They stand united, but at the same time re-united! Perhaps re-united more than united but this is not enough to prove successfully divisive.
They are trampled, they are confused, and they are battered, alas there great economy in tatters!
They think should we have done that? For their offspring are now in combat and the promise of peace inevitably delayed.
The last thing they wanted was more pain, they long for the sorrow to be driven away…
The end of a dynasty a sign of a man’s new legacy?
Hope! Hope, a feature of both days old and new!
They fight to succeed and some fight for the simple means to proceed. A single vote the means of playing a bold part in planting this precious new seed?
They hope for peace and they hope for joy. They hope to never again become the collective victims of a man’s ploy.
Oh Joy! Oh Joy! Oh Joy! They cry out! Today we have witnessed the eradication of the most dangerous form of doubt.
The Old Haggard Angel
There she goes all haggard and a head full of greys.
Her finger nails are as black as coal, for there is no warm place for her to bathe and come in from the cold.
She moves slowly along the littered pavement. Slowly she walks. Her knees are old and creaky, her back is arched, two pages out of a long story of years of suffering.
Her head is bowed both Physically and spiritually because the ways of the world have taught her to understand the true meaning of humility.
She understands her place in the world more than they.
They who walk passed her and cover up their nose from the linger of her torn worn out clothes.
They who walk by her and pass her in the cold.
They who walk by her and say isn’t she shrivelled and old!
Shouldn’t she go!
I wish she would go!
They say this woman should move, she should not approach me as I too need food.
She shouldn’t slow me down as I have somewhere to be. I'm in a justified hurry can she not see!
Of this the old woman, the old woman does know, for she has a friend whose story has been told.
She has a mission, a mission to see. Which of these busy people are worthy of He?
Oblivious?
Am I to be oblivious?
Am I to act oblivious?
I shall master the act.
To be seen as totally unaware, not a sign of despair, not a trickle of a tear or a trace of fear. Not a frown when you’re near or when you are out there.
I choose to be oblivious.
Not once, not twice, oh yes I’m too nice as I remain oblivious.
It cuts like a knife and it causes me strife but I remain oblivious.
I’m not even your wife so why choose this life, why choose to remain oblivious.
Because love won’t come twice and he is my Mr Right and so I remain oblivious.
But tonight is the night I choose to keep dignity in sight as this has become ridiculous, I must put down my foot as he has mistook. Oh yes he thinks I am so oblivious.
Oblivious! Oblivious! Oblivious indeed! Its over you see. You didn’t fool me!
You didn’t fool me with your long list of priorities, why didn’t you heed, did you expect me to plead? Surely this inevitability was foreseen? It must have been...
I looked him in the eyes and let out a sigh and said…
Did you think I was oblivious? Your antics were fairly obvious, now see what you have done to us. You gave our love away for lust. What we had you blew away like dust. And because of this I must, I must, I must…
I must walk away, I have nothing to say, so you go your way . Oh my! The dismay! When I walked away! He really did pay and to this.
And to this….
And to this…
And to this…
And to this!
He was totally and undoubtedly, and utterly oblivious!!!
Colour Blind
When it’s black and white I say it's black and white.
Although I know with black and white there is a margin allowing for a tint of grey in between.
When it is red, I say it is red, and I lament of the hint of the danger foreseen.
When it is green I say it is green, I’m willing to encounter the new found reality extracted from my dreams.
So why now do I lack clarity? Why can’t I comprehend? Where have all the colours gone, where am I going wrong?
Now I see nothing, nothing at all. What do I say now? What do I do? You have rendered me colour blind. Colour blind, I sigh... I pause... I think... I think some more...
Nothing seems simple anymore...
Mixed pallets of emotions, mixed signals…
Images, shadows, silhouettes, textures, light, dark, I even see reflections, mirror images and what not... Yet, I see know defining colours...
I close my eyes and hope that when I open them a crystal clear spectrum will unfold.
Living with intention…
Walk, walk, walk.
Walk circumspectly and with purpose.
Walk with circumspect.
Walk boldly and with intention.
Walk with a purpose
Walk, work and live with a purpose…
Better still, talk with a purpose, engage with a purpose, and hear with a purpose… Why not write with a purpose too?
Walk, work, live and breathe with a purpose. Let your heartbeat with a purpose.
Walk, Work and live with a purpose, where purpose equates; ambition, aspiration, calculation, determination, goal, intendment, intent, mission, objective, plan, point, reason, target or resolve.
Where resolve equates; Confidence, determination, faith, firmness, single-mindedness, steadfastness, tenacity or will.
What is the meaning, what is the reason…
In all seasons keep your focus on your focus and that focus on God.
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