Tell me what it means These dreams The crowded house The endless fall Flying sometimes Or not at all What do bears or wolves represent Their shadows long Their teeth crooked Tell me why I dream of birth Of new beginnings Of cubs and pups, frail tiny birds And what about the nights so black Where I wake in a sweat With visions of the dead A knife in my hand A bullet in my stomach Beheading a man And running, always running What do they mean Are they real or just dreams Will I come into money Am I safe when I sleep Does it mean anything When I'm naked and shamed When I sleep with a friend Can I face them again You are named Dan The reader of dreams You've read for the king You know all our secrets Please tell me now Now that I've told you What's inside my head Does it mean much to you Are the symbols just that Or are they specific Am I everyone I see Or are they them and I'm me I am not a murderer Adulterer or thief My desires are innocent I just want some relief From the challenging sun The coded light of day From the etiquette of normal Tell me, Dan, am I okay?
Today is the last day of my, 'A Month Of posts. Finishing exactly seven days after the month of January, I am late, and more than happy with the work that I've done. I feel positively, well... positive! It wouldn't appear that I did, judging from most of the material that I've been purging onto the screen, but I think it's all been towards great end. For me, at least. Apologies if it got a little dark in there. So, now you are well acquainted with the inside of my head. Nice place to visit... I have learned to use my time and my creative output differently over the past month (and one week). Perhaps, because of the bleak nature of what I was exploring, I learned to get comfortable with letting whatever wanted to be written come out. It was quite difficult, at first, knowing that anyone could read this vulnerable, self-oriented stuff. After the first week, I was in so much doubt, that I nearly called it off. I decided to give it a few more days, as I had known that the project would be messy for me, not some well crafted pop song to please people. It got better. Or I got used to it. Thank you for going there with me. I've had such great feedback in the form of comments, letters, quotes, and especially having the solidarity and inspiration of participants working alongside me, doing their own project for the month. I have enjoyed the sharing, interactive nature of what we all created. Let's do it again soon! Love to you, Angie x
So simple that it's hard You think it, it's far from your grasp So difficult to break it all down Acid in a jar, oil spill, toxic meltdown Disaster Words in the wrong order Boss me around, upend the real story Tell it like it isn't So loud It's got to be true So simple that, well, it's complicated Unknot the dread lock I don't look forward to anything Make a list Bullet points Bang bang bang I got it good Nailed the sucker You won't be needing this anymore A pumping bloody heart, beats in my palm Stop! This is not how it goes Sure, I've got to take charge But no one had to be broken apart Pro-activism is for introverts Assertiveness is for chickens Just step out on that rope that is strung From here to the other side And back again It's not worth it unless it's in real time.
And so it's back to digging Unearthing Dusting off And moving on Everything matters It just can't be all the time A high functioning what? Shit Digging some more Shifting dirt From one pile To another Through the sieve Tiny gems Minerals Precious mettle Tests positive Toughness reigns To make you soft When you have gone a little further Down the road And round the corner You will find a quieter time A gentleness that won't be hard You'll be protected By being disarmed It won't hurt a bit And you won't be alarmed Hang in there My good and my true You You won't morph into a moth Or a happy wanderer But you'll lose that old shell And one day you'll be gone All shimmering And chimera Shifting in the rays Settling lightly On a leaf or a petal You'll be like a feather Held together by particles Unseen to the eye Both resilient and fragile Waterproof and like the wind itself Take to the blue Dive or fly Nothing can touch you Now that you've become light.
Sit with it Discomfort Let the itch Irritate Let down be down Don't go with it Observe the up From the underside Enjoy the ride Enjoy the ride Enjoy the ride Follow the train From the same place again Watch it leave And stay behind The journey is the destination That's what you will find Enjoy the silence Enjoy the silence Enjoy the silence The most unknown Is where you don't go Travelling within Can be darker than night Seeking enlightenment What a funny thing to say When you're searching the soul And there's no guiding light Enjoy the ride Enjoy the ride Enjoy the ride.
Through their great and sometimes painful grasp of what it is to be human, some artists connect in a way that makes me feel that I know them, or that they know me. That they share this same air with me. That they feel the same intensity about life as I do. That they have an empathy and a compassion for those that try to do more than just exist. That they are trying to do more than just exist, themselves. For all of these reasons which really only add up to one incredibly moving reason, that they have made that connection with so many of us, losing them is felt so deeply. You can love and admire someone you've never met. You can be moved or have your world made better by their existence. It is a reminder to strive for more of these qualities in yourself, to know that these qualities make a difference. That if you have felt known and understood by someone you have never met, then surely this is worth it.
You can be so careful You can know thyself Take every precaution Every safety measure And you can fall You can know you were going to And still it happens You can only watch Witness Pretend that you can learn from this Because you can't Take notes See patterns Read the charts Make a map Plot the path Predict the weather Take an umbrella Wear a hat Wear them out Talk about it When it falls You will be caught Unaware Unprotected Out of control Always Out of control Falling Sometimes Floating the next You know But you don't Don't you? No The same can be said for flying All this care These life jackets The ropes Tying you down They may hold you down You might drown All of these things may happen And one day you will die That is certain So why not free-fall Why not be there when the wind wants Why not? The difference is none Why not go out in wings And flippers Why not wear nothing at all This pretence of holding on Has weighed on you The lines are clear Your face is old Take some risks Let the rain in Be under the lightning Get out of this Get into everything Stare at the sun Be slippery Be undone.
Gratitude It's not just a word Sometimes you feel it Like a rush of blood To the heart To the head Healing Refreshing Memories turned sweet Gift of love Generous love You can hold it For some time Wings It gives to you It gives as you are receiving it A cup that never empties A cascade in your hand Abundant love Thank you I am grateful.
Say something Say anything Dip a toe That's all You might get bit It could hurt Nothing you haven't Felt before So scared So scared Frightened In fact Cannot see forward So tired of going back Hellish high water Falling over rocks Dragging me over Coals and ice To get here It's really not so bad This trial by extremes A kind of numbing I suppose Shredding my tires Without meaning it Reversing over spikes They can be replaced Yes I've got to learn somehow Go on Dip a toe Dip a toe You'll only get wet It could be great You'll never know The pain of not moving Hurts more than standing still At least I get a choice Not to go But this is worse I am frozen On fire Burning Crystalised Set by stones Pummelled Punctured Prone To injury I guess We all have this flesh It's softer than you think It hardly keeps us in It's purpose is to breathe Not hold back battalions I imagine that's important In the larger scheme I wish a were an armadillo All 'arma' No pillow You'd need a password To get me to unfurl Something like “It's safe to come out” Simple Yet Effective We are so soft All seams and cloth It all gets in It tears It's rough God speed, Evolution Make us tough Until then Is a long Long Time The harm is done So there's none in trying Dip a toe Dip a toe Dip a toe.
I am a visitor to this planet I am a visitor to this body I'll float in and out like a radio show Intangible, I'll be forgotten.
Wonder Wonderful Not so simple Sometimes When it comes It fills you full How does this run? Who runs us all? Curious We suffer this Trouble kiss I want to know How can we be? What makes us? Just asking Problem? Talk to management I just want to know Were we made from planets Big bang Waterfalls? How can we be Complex and stale Ruining All that we hold Dear to us But curious Makes us destroyers Trust gets burned And so it goes Human nature Drives us Fruits and dangers tempt us Explode Pull the pin Lock us in We can't be trusted It's obvious Forgive us.
I used to love all things 'mystic'. Things you could not see, but existed by the faith that they did. Through some very realistic events, my mystical heart got broken and I could no longer believe in things that could not be proven. Science and fact became my bible. I am now fascinated with things that really do happen, just without our knowing. The brain. It is a universe unto it's own. It is more unreal than the realest of things. I cannot believe how far the labyrinth of innate knowing goes, but I can believe in it. In the strangest twist of all, it is proving the mystical world to me. That every thing we do, every intention, every thought, affects our wellbeing. I lost the will to believe in the power of positive thinking. “What has happened in my life, that I can truly say came about through positive thought or visualisation?” How could I be sure? What was the use in expending energy into an unproven well of maybe? So, I let my mind go free. I stopped meditating. I allowed anything to grow and take hold. Any idea. Any thought. And they did. Weeds. Then vines. They made a jungle of errant impassable thoughts. A new city, but the roads were all tangled. I wasn't going anywhere. Maybe I was even going backwards! I needed help, but I was tired. I was especially tired of help. I had seen every kind of magical healer that there was to see. Western, Eastern and Other. I had believed in many half-baked theories. They were not handed to me raw and inedible, but I digested them without proving them into full, realised facts. It was my handling of the gifts that I was given that rendered them ineffective. I treated them like superstitions. Rules unquestioned. I swallowed them without chewing. The journey back has involved learning. I am doing research. I am working hard. I am finding my path. I am building this one with solid evidence. It is telling me that my mystics exist. They just have different names. Scientific ones. They are the same, I just needed to hear them in another language.
We are metal Inured by flame Used to it, I guess We are wildly tamed Life hands us cards And so we play Really there's no winning It ceases to matter, at some stage It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. We were given a name Our starter pack The tone in their voices As they call us The timbre we've grown into A sheen, a lustre Leather and wood Bone and hair We are installations In galleries that we share See us slowly mutate From experiences we've had Clay in the kiln Annealed under fire Heated ordeals Trades and compromise We come together Over harder times Admiring our staunch Belief to survive.
Every word Is absorbed Food and thought Chemicals Write the roads Paths to tread Be careful what you say Cells are shaped Molecules shake Structures formed Like pushing plates Mountains, vales The abyss The lake Be careful what you say The map is made But it can change Even tattoos can go astray Blue and green Lines jump skin Be careful what you say Switch-a-roo Switchboards connect You are speaking Unknown caller collect Random receiver Mental caterwauler Don't even think that way Be careful what you say Blood congeals And is let By your whipping Fetid sweat Rein it in Every bead Liquid poison Be careful what you say Everything Is created Outside in The soil, the spade Arable land Digging graves Be careful what you say Parables of better things Seeds of hope Rake it in Arable land A field within Seize the day Again and again But be careful what you say Catch them early Budding vines Before they bolt Bonsai mind Concentrate Compact and clean Aesthetically sleek Intentionally lean Every word, an acorn, then a tree So be careful what you say.
Long-time love It's not easy The heart can break Like crackled china Still holds together But it beats with care Tiny fractures Wear, beware If you're looking for a medal Get off your pedestal There is no prize No scale or measure To a dedicated age old craft You do it because you can't stop You love because you love to You make it yours That's your reward A ribbon, frayed and soft No amulet hung from this strand It barely holds itself You stay because there's always change And that is all you ask To never stay the same To be new as a used guitar Worn in well, like favourite shoes That have taken the less favoured path Comfortable is not a goal You pass it on your way Reaching out, expanding souls It's mecca every day A pilgrimage for the broken and lost The perfect way to be Opened up and open to now Is the long-time journey of love.
Dear Wonderful People That Have Been Following My January Piece A Day Project, Unfortunately, there will an intermission, while my computer is in repair. Back soon. X
Is it really true that the best writing is executed under a heightened state? Can't epiphanic moments come from moderate days? Does the brain only hone in the cogs and the minutiae, when it is in crisis? Is that the only time where you ask, “How does this all work”, and take a peek under the rug of life? It is often assumed that artists create best in compromised circumstances, either internal or external. This would make a great thesis study, if anyone out there is looking for a question to pick apart for the next, say... rest of their lives. To me, it is an intangible, unanswerable, mystery; that deserves pondering. Does suffering make space for beauty? Can contentment conjure the same degree of soul searching and the need to be heard and understood? Is art appreciation about the experience of observing the expression of a raw nerve to get in touch with emotion? Is it art if it's easy? Does anyone really want to feel content, or are we actually always looking for the next challenge (even if we complain about it)? Can great questions be asked, if there is no desire? Do aching hearts make better love songs? Would a vision be as arresting if it came from a clear and untroubled head? Is art about pain? Is the joy that is expressed ever from pure joy, or does it call out from some dark space to light a difficult path? Does it only paint the walls of a prison with roses and sunlight, to make it more bearable? Can there be creating just because? Did all my literary, artistic, and musical heroes and heroines have to suffer to bring such vitality into the world? Or is art the balm? Is it even worth asking? Is it just enough to ask? Not like I wonder about any of this ever, anyway. I'm just asking for a friend.