ah ha

almost close enough to touch how far away I’ve been from it

this whole time

so close to knowing that i have been trying to know nothing that will serve me now

and very near to be able to say

ah ha thats what its been about

 

that tiny hatchling of an idea

pure and fresh like mothers milk

is the one I want

and the whirlwinds of thought around and around

I order you to blow right through

 

the where do I go’s and the what do I do’s

the what nexts and the how do I get there’s

be gone

the tiny hatchling of thought that welcomes me to dream

why I am here?

I make room for you, I do

I want you, I do

 

Window

Window won’t you walk with me a hundred miles more

Window to my cracks of pain

Window to my streaks of anger

Window to my world within obscured by the dust of my fear

Be the window to my jealousy so that I may understand my longing

Be the opening to my bravery so that I may walk a hundred miles more with you

towards all that is longing for me

Window won’t you walk with me a hundred miles more

 

What if I left?

In hell there are only tasks to do

no moments to wonder, no day dreams in the sun

just lists to tick and jobs to be done

In hell everyone walks with a purpose 

there are no idle strolls to dwindle the hours away

no slow long sunsets to watch to drag out the end of the day

 

In hell if you can’t do it quickly it doesn’t count 

and no one cares how beautiful your mistakes may look

In hell every moment is on the clock 

and to rest is a chore 

In hell all the marvels of the world you must do your best to ignore

all the wonders you must concede are a bore 

In hell there is no room for endless weeping for no reason 

no place for mindless giggling at all

Nothing happens on a whim

and no one asks ‘what if’ anymore

 

Hell is always open; its only saving grace

you can come and go as you please

 

I wrote this note to remember where I’ve come from  

each choice I make is one more frolic away from there

each tear of joy takes me further towards: 

early morning handshakes with injured bees 

unconditional cuddles 

and the smell of fresh fun blowing in the breeze

 

An Amateur’s ride to Kings Cross

I’ll never be that girl

in the long flowing bright red coat 

with the ribbon lace up heels 

whose legs are so thin and skirt so short 

that as she sits down on the tube 

all smiles perk up at the view 

until she places an oversized handbag on her lap 

that clearly says closed for business gentlemen 

take your prying eyes to some other hemline 

 

But I am that girl sitting next to her

with eyeballs heavy as lead

fighting the lullaby like rocking motion on the tube

striving to clock in just one more waking hour 

to carry herself safely to bed

 

I will never be that girl

riding her bike

in a flowing white dress so well tamed

it wouldn’t even think of getting it’s lace stuck in the wheel

who knows exactly when to peddle hard

and power through the intersection

making the flashing lights obey her every command

 

But I am that girl

that gets stuck at the lights

yelps out loud when the buses get too close  

and wobbles warily through the intersection 

face as bright red as the light that has finally changed color 

and the bus that has finally past by

 

I am not that girl 

I am the amateur sitting next to her 

the understudy peddling behind her 

I am the girl

still trying to figure out which roles she wants to play

 

Goodbye Lullaby

If the moon was under my command

and its crevices and craters held all your dreams and destiny

I would turn that awesome carrier of fate

so that its darkside 

which has cast its shadow upon your world so far 

would finally begin to face the sun.

 

If the sun was at my mercy 

I would ask that flaming ball of chance 

to bask your life in all its miraculous glory. 

I would plead with the sun to shine 

with gleeful joy on all your days to come. 

 

If the sun and the moon

if destiny and chance 

where mine to meddle with 

then I would shape this world so that

every blessing in the Universe

knew always the exact address of your precious soul. 

 

My heart is heavy with the truth 

that not a speck of this awesome power is mine to yield. 

I have only a single simple star to shape.

The light of my own hope is all I have to offer you in our parting.

May my heart continue to wind along its many ways to love

and may my hope for that love to somehow shine upon you

come true.

 

let it flood

I’m letting the air out of my air mattress this morning

air that is full of old dreams

of old plans

old patterns

old places

 

I’m saying my prayers in the bath tub this morning

because I suspect water may carry them far further than air

these are prayers for nothing in particular

 

but the time between breathing in and breathing out

 

airy dreams of what is to come

have made my heart go stale

and its groping it’s flaying its aching 

to flow into the river of promises kept only by not knowing

 

I don’t even know how to spell it yet

but my misspelling may be more perfect

than anything that is correct

my mishearing

my mistaking

my misjudging

may just be the tiny trickles toward my deepest mysteries

 

Rebirth

Baby let me carry you, carry you across.

Let me hold you in your shadow,

let me bathe you in your light.

Let me move you from your limbs

to deep down in your soul.

 

Baby let me rock you, rock you in your spirit.

Across the rivers of your wisdom,

through the vast waters of your love.

Into the oceans of your welcoming ancestry. 

 

Let your mind be at peace

and your heart be its own beat.

Let your body be your release

and your soul be free. 

 

So that you may know nourishment 

as you know the rhythms of you own rebirth.

So that you may know you are safe

baby as I carry you, carry you across.

 

mitchell, my moment man and me

he’s my moment man in his one armed band

banging away for freedom

wish I had a dollar instead of a tear drop for every time he said

I don’t

for every I can’t

for every I won’t

wish I had a dollar for every time

 

I’d buy him a ten-foot yacht boat 

I’d buy him a wee-wee little billy goat

to say thank you my moment man

thank you my guru of the now

if you’d let me stay in the future and the past

then I’d still be listening for my dreams in some strange man’s words

and holding out my arms to anybody smart enough to say I need you

 

thank you my moment man

you banged your message into my heart

you marched yourself as far away from me while you lay down in my bed

moment man if I could speak words to you

I might say thank you

I might  say fuck you

but for sure its gonna be

just be you my moment man

just be you

 

The Whirling Wounded

If my wounds could whisper to me

in ways that I could hear

then gently in my ear  

they’d say

we’re just here

we’re not lepers, we’re not losers

we’re simple folk

with stories to speak

don’t run away in fear

 

Come closer, sit by me

and let your little finger talk

walk with me, you’re safe

let your arms, full of heart, begin to teach

They’d say hey, you’re getting stronger

there’s a whole other world that wants to play

and my hips would start to say

its OK its OK

and my legs would start to say

this way this way

its time to meet your feet

 

If my wounds could speak up

they’d say, we’re not going away

and we’re not strangers, we’re not hermits

we have so much to express

That’s why we press into your chest

That’s why we bend you at your knees

That’s why we wiggle you with your shoulders

and twirl you from your feet

That’s why we march you from your elbows

That’s why we melt you from your belly

That’s why we shake your from your ankles

and sway you from your finger tips

 

We wounds have a want for more than words 

because our opening is your motion 

our mouthpiece is your dance 

and our grace is to be allowed

 

 

 

The glass is already broken

Lately I’ve been drinking white wine

because lately I’ve been breaking glasses.

I’ve been spilling great wet splotches across old carpets.

Appearing clumsy like a nervous fool.

I’ve been coughing in good company 

and missing punch lines to good jokes.

I’ve been driving drunk 

and eating kebabs when it is barely dark enough.

 

And from the outside one might suggest

that lately I am a mess.

And yes, inside I am sweat soaked chaos.

But from the outside I’m not sure if it’s plain to see;

how very enjoyable being clumsy can be

how very liberating it is to be bad 

and how very easy it is 

to drown out a bore with a chesty cough.