Tag Archives: change

New Year New….Journey?

New Year New….Journey?

Some things have to stay in the past, no matter how hard you want to drag them into the present. That goes for good things that happened in the previous year too.

I could give you half a dozen titles and hundreds of words for blog posts I wrote (and remain in draft form) reflecting on 2018. I had hoped to give you a glimpse into practical highs, crushing lows and express thankfulness for everything in between. Instead I posted a poetic expression of a very stressful that situation that occurred recently.

I’m not the New Year, new me type, never have been. Maybe that was my go with the flow mentality. Significant changes every year for who? Me? For a few years, my end of year reflections started in October and changes began in November. Whatever calendar you work with, change has to start as soon as you’re ready to start changing. Simple, isn’t it?

Just knowing you came out the other side is as inspirational as any detail you could explain. The new you begun before anyone else could start putting up social media posts about what they would or wouldn’t be doing for the next year.

A new year may not bring or require wholesome change. There may be situations or seasons that have started at different times and require your investment to maintain or improve them. You could have started a job or taken up a hobby, you may be a parent and simply have seen your child grow up a little more. It is likely that you will have different things in different areas of your life that require your efforts. There is a journey to be had whether you are starting, maintaining or finishing something.

Can you trust yourself to acknowledge what has happened at a particular time and simply take only what is necessary into the next interaction, the next phase? Take enough fuel for the journey and burn it accordingly.

Although the stories of how we got from A-B are incredibly important. We cannot carry every book in its entirety with us. For us to live and move forward in life we must let them live in their space. That space may be the museum of unshared blogs or diary entries. That space may be a one off reading at an open mic, a WhatsApp message. That space may even be a single photo, a phone call or meeting at a café.

What are you keeping in your space in this season? What are you fuelling your journey with?

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Lament of a Psalmist

lament

You can feel intimate with a militant. 

They seem so real, yet when you touch them, you feel silicone. 

But God said! So their thus said is legitimate. 

Ignorant innocents are impudent kites

Hold on or be hung by string theory

Holy rollers become weed smokers.

Unnoticed, Moses became the Joker

Deleting pixels for their picture a bat symbol, not magnum opus

Hopeful loyalists practice upper lip stiffness as wisdom

Won’t take a knee or comb the heir to the family business.

Live in a dragons den whispering their knowledge of the litmus.

This divine monopoly’s a comedy of vapours and groupthink.

Where the audience is clowned for pointing out it stinks.

Rub sticks and create fire or feel the sword like molar of holy rollers

Code masters unmask the mode of most high and create players to sacrifice.

Who am I?

A born sinner, a dinner, a lost soul to a soul winner that won’t vary the bait.

Space invaders, snipers, rangers marshal the momentum of the naysayer.

Demon days filled with gorillas, gargoyles and goblins are a Lord’s Prayer.

Whose frames do you wear? Do you die or dare? Be a black life, matter?

I see red tape masters speak tongues in monotones like heaven’s got their name on the deed.

With all of these gang signs and storms seen I’m falling through my flaws.

My moorings are unsure and I’m dying to breathe, searching for answers.

If the real God we can’t see, is it because of us or gospel gangsters?

 

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Dusted

leaving home

I was a Lego brick on heaven’s tables with ambitions of being Babel

It would be gravy if I trained well.

I wore the King James label like Air Jordans as an enabler to tap the mike

Cutting shapes for the sake of grand designs lit the eyes.

This mind was primed to freehand more than stencil.

The palette was filled with many colours yet I could only use one

Chew the word and bite your tongue, a babbling baby is free speech.

Slap you with psalms 1 -1 take the p when they reach

They besmirch and beseech the only souls that matter are those of their feet.

Watch how you breathe for Bruce Banner can’t stand spanners in the manor.

What’s love for the poets if you put slammers in the slammer.

Play hangman with every hang up, kill a so-called joker if they stand up

Raise your voice or raise the standard, one day I put my hands up

See I’d chewed on the green grass of home like it was magnanimous manna

How can you be two-faced if you don’t know you’ve got a mask on?

Why fight when I was rapt in the moment that my modem connected.

I didn’t know the download had been infected.

Exceptions and rules wisdom and fools the best fell afoul of while many played chicken.

To challenge was to play hopscotch in a minefield.

Jet fuel from a pulpit could melt your steel if you didn’t have the minerals

They built you so they can kill you.

They built you so they can kill, you.

I’d heed them and repent for I’m a heathen, seedling of evil if I believed them.

I counted years as days, days as hours, hours as minutes and in 15 I’d lost 30

In his eyes were fire and from his mouth swords but this revelation was not written by John.

The shoes I walked in were gone. Was heaven under new management?

Thought I was strapped in! Madness!

Stunned, I snapped into a coma, knowing I could explode at any moment.

Burnt by the cold and homeless, I should have known this was coming.

As the truth created fractions, my history was flagged to be deleted.

I learned that secrets were common knowledge and life hacking wasn’t to make things easier

So I vowed I wouldn’t give them flowers when they’ve kicked the bucket just to keep up appearances.

I’m no longer dumbfounded by the conceited for the mask has fallen.

They put karma’s face on the coin so I dare them to call it.

 

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Haiku – #ALM

Watermelon smiles and trigger happy chickens.

Melting pot meltdowns.

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Tulips

tulips

They stare down from the bridge like a speed trap

Ill-fated like candles on a heat map

Two face that six deep till their eaves drop

Speak war ‘til they detox

The air they’re breeding? I need that

Photo finishes lose their gloss, so forward thinking I read back.

Embracing these ventilations with open windows

We can christen or crescendo until the wind has lost our taste

If giving is charity, does a casket rest the case?

Is time well spent when interest cools?

Does time erase? Does time even have tools?

Are unheard sentiments simply sediment.

If pretty flowers must die, are they worth your remembrance?

Will you choose to bury them?

If principles are the rule, is perception the real measurement?

Our bouquet pendulums have greater range than a peregrine

What’s your addendum?

Is it the copy of your recipe or the flavour of your beef?

Every decision we make writes our story

Is yours a magazine?

Is it live and let die or do we force some to breathe?

It seems some can’t believe that pretty flowers… must die

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Bearwood Pick Nick (52/8)

bearwood high st

Every Saturday morning when Des Lynam’s moustache was doing it’s final stretches during the weather just before Grandstand we found ourselves…

In sniffing distance of the Kings Head
Blunt’s shoes? you’d never wear them unless you smoked, were barely out of the cot or closing in on retirement.
Where cash machines are places of worship and the church on the corner is a convenience store outliving us all.
As chips a shade of oompah loompah that fish pouting glamour pusses would bathe in are trophy dinners.
If traversing that red and grey bricked hill to purchase 105 of the 5-a-day was deemed a winner.
I’d grow up fruitless, a damned sinner
See once raiding freezer heaven was finished….we’d head there……
To the land of the A-Team branded Cornflakes, peaches and rice.
Where stealth entry to this economically viable leviathan was vital.
Where purchases were disguised in Safeway’s and Tesco bags to avoid being seen as cheap.
There’s nothing special about this rabidly chavvy anti Monaco
16 years tasting traffic jams instead of tavern pies, doing bicep curls with bags of cabbages.
Drowning in trolley fountains and blue rinse eruptions at the temple of torrential tedium
This wretched hamlet conspired to feed me the beauty of Anneka Rice.
She was round the corner but hey, for every pleasure, there is a sacrifice.

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How to Approach a Year (52/1)

The tidal rain of mirrors falls without hailing
A crowd surfing eulogy is read at rip tide speed
12 gun salute followed by six minutes and five seconds of silence
Our love is now driftwood on fleeting memories

These are my waves goodbye

Food mountains carved from grey matter.
Street parties powered by lamp posts
I climbed the ladder because I ate the most
From chattering classes I learned a bit.
Our weary aire was rare.

I combed the heirs of her sojourn
Cleaned my clock to know the time
Threw stones at glass houses so my seeds can breathe the sun
I have just begun, because
Eye opened

Eating from tableaus is unhealthy
More than an earthen vessel filled with spirits
I am the bar
To resurrect or drown need chips on the table
I check my hand and look to the dealer
I call….

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