The truth always breathes through absent air

For anyone who has ever been bullied into silence…

The other day

Someone close to me asked me

To recall the heartache

of a past-pain that hasn’t

completely healed yet,

And it caused me physical pain

As it all came back to me,

That you really thought it was okay

To tear me down

And use me

Against myself

For your satisfaction,

To suppress your own inner pain,

You thought you were really tough, didn’t you,

Can’t believe I once thought I loved you,

Every time you beat me down

By telling me

That I was to blame

For all the bad things

that went on,

That I got in the way,

That I took up too much space,

You normalised emotional trauma

with careless rage,

You broke a guitar

that was given to you

Bet they don’t even know

that you smashed it

In a frustrated state,

Broken lamps,

And remote controls,

In the bedroom,

In the garage,

In the car,

On the street,

and so many more places,

All the many beats

Of my heart

That you broke,

That nobody ever saw,

So entrenched in the masquerade,

That when I tried to raise my voice,

Many months before I left,

They all –

You all – laughed,

As if the truth that

I finally coughed up

was just a childish joke,

To be squandered

and neglected,

Well, that wasn’t

a very hopeful landscape

for revealing the hidden trauma,

So don’t ask the absent air why

I didn’t speak up,

Were you really so confounded by how long it took me to leave?

And society counts me

as one of the lucky ones,

To break free

Partially unscathed,

And it’s true,

Here I am,

And it’s only occasionally that

The excruciating flashbacks creep up on me,

But I’m safe;

I’m worlds away from you.

And it’s only,

Only because of the humanity of a select few,

Who pulled me out of the deepest darkest blue,

And took me in off the street

At 3 o’clock in the morning,

and offerred me a bed

After you pushed me out your door,

With nowhere to run to

On the other side of the world,

With no ticket out

And no plans for the road

but expected me to have it all figured out

and be out of your town

as fast as I was off your lawn.

(only You Know You)

Awkward times pass,

Trust me I’m the expert,

Just gotta keep on

Through the weird moments,

and the people that dont understand,

They don’t know you,

(Only you know you),

don’t waste your energy

on needless explanations,

Don’t let others’ opinions of you
shape you,

be it good or bad,

all is poison

outside of your inward gaze,

You’re alright,

You’re alright,

One thing

Just one thing at a time,

even when everything seems to be

Going so slowly,

and you just want to take flight

From this place

you find yourself in

sometimes

in this mental space,

That you get in-to,

so take time,

to taste time,

even when your patience begins to wane,

see, when we try to escape time

it all starts coming back,

Hard memories get set on rewind,

Jamming up the tape,

Skipping over a couple of beats

All night

So just

Put it back in its case

Away from this moment,

Leave it where you left it,

It was stopped

and ejected

and pushed aside

for a switch over

for a reason

Into The Flames

Go on,

Go ahead,

You’re always, almost there,

That is,

Until you see that

“Almost”

Is another way of saying

You’re still alive, my dear,

Your heart and soul

Are waiting for you,

On the steps,

By the train station,

In the city of your mind,

The breeze carries

A waft of burning embers,

Breathing in the wind

from your ignited soul,

That you set on fire

In your darkness

To ease your suffering

And bring peace to your mind,

To vanquish the demons

And embrace your inner skin,

That endlessly burns,

In the breeze,

Spreading the wildfire,

As you take off, emblazoned

By the flight

Of your inner lightness,

As you come alive.

Surrender The Gate

Peace and quiet

can be found

in noisy environments,

while chaos and dissonance

can echo through silence,

the unspoken mind

remains

vulnerable and confronting,

while silver-plated armour

may gleam beneath the light

when

true thoughts are guarded

by a single-handed-army

against invisible enemies,

elaborate trenches,

and tall brick walls,

the shrapnel and debris

stay inside the wound,

with each step

and each false word,

the fragments of battle

scrape against the unattended pain,

to guard an open gate

that you’re trying to enter

is to swallow the key to your inhabitance,

where will you sleep,

if you block the only entrance to your internal bed?

How will you laugh,

if the dark clouds are trapped within your walls?

How will you dance,

if you ramshackle your limbs outside your door?

This battle is in stalemate,

Weathered and cold,

these barricades

rusted,

unlatch the gate hinges

and let yourself in,

unlock the portal,

surrender the hidden battle

at the door of your mind

and walk free

(life is) An Unpaved Path (so I’m) Cultivating A Jungle

Your own mind

Will ravage more damage

Than any external force,

Whatever you let in

Will either

break you apart

Or nourish your bones,

So

Careful my friend

With which thoughts you choose to call home,

The silence is sometimes better than the spinning rhymes,

It is an art I am yet to master

A skill I am yet to procure,

You can hate me for my poor decisions

For I know that I’m only trying

To navigate this uneasy soul,

To find a place

To find a reason

For my existence

That can serve more souls

Outside my own,

We often find wonderful people

when we stop seeking

And follow the path of the Unknown,

Maybe it’s only then that we begin to bring out our truths,

Where there’s only “I” to be found

that’s when the true self

Really comes about,

And those that magnetise to us,

On this path that bares no signs or arrows,

Are the ones that share our instinctive beats and tones,

The ones that were there all along

Hidden behind forced friendships

And lonely nights,

Reminder to self: this is just one fragment

This is not where we stop trekking,

The unpaved path

Is forever extending,

As we build it ourselves

To find a greater reason

Beyond the people that walk alongside us,

It’s also

Our ideas,

And observations,

Our insights and our wisdom,

Our awareness and all the lessons,

These are the fruits that begin to grow

As we throw seeds

Along beside us

Cultivating a jungle

For many others

To expand on

And to enjoy

Spearheaded shovel

How absurd it is that we take ourselves so seriously sometimes,

But that’s what keeps us on our toes,

That’s what keeps the monsters from creeping through the sheets

And holds the bats at bay

And smothers the biting thoughts

That try to eat us whole

And pull us under

Beneath the soil

And spread roots

Like weeds

Stripping the earth of fruitful space

Leaving a trail of heads

Faster than anything living,

Hard to keep up if

you let the ugly heads tear through marked territory,

Without kicking a shovel in the ground

And ripping apart

The beady eyes

And stripping the foundations

From the ground,

Sometimes that shovel

Is the dagger of passion,

That separates I from them,

With a spearhead

Too sharp for combat,

This shovel is made

For leaving a trail of flowers and gold

Welcome to your very own sacred imaginariumΒ 

Feeling kind of shakey

And fragile

And open

Tore my heart apart

Just to show you where it hurts

To alleviate the suffering

To see (how I believe) everybody else sees,

I remember once,

A boy I used to love

Told me he wished he could live a day in my head

To shake up the unrest

But then he took it back

Cause he said he wouldn’t be able to bare the pain I was in

And the pain is a scar

From an injury I did unto myself

A scab I kept picking

Before it became a traceable mark

That I could no longer hide from myself or anybody else

That taunts me

And echoes down the corridors of my mind

That stands as a barrier

Between the light outside and the dark inside

Balance is golden

But balance is rare

You cannot be everything and anything

You must decide

On a way

Your way

That sings and dances and breaths

sunlight and songbirds through the days,

That draws with crayons

a multicoloured picture of two-headed insects and blooming fields,

A place where the grass can be purple

and the stars are visible in the daylight,

An imaginarium of ideas

That can make sense to only you

For within these grandiose creatures and places

Are ideas rooted deep beneath the earth and stooped high above the trees

The songbird

“Travel light, seek the light, spread the light, be the light” – unknown

Thirsty souls and open hearts ready to go exploring

To water this arid land

With new experiences and pure thoughts

For the most beaten heart can still drink the syrup of the honey suckle

The most buried soul can still uproot itself from the trodden soil

So never doubt the resilience of the songbird,

As it rises again each morning 

praising the world for all its beauty

For it’s wise enough to know that there cannot be light without the darkness,

So fly away beautiful butterfly,

Free spirit with a bruised soul,

You’ll rise again tomorrow 

With a renewed understanding of your world 

In the name of friendship

We sat in that cafe

And I poured my heart out

And told you my greatest fears

I told you about what my heart aches for

as I painted my perception of the world to you

And you told me yours,

And you cracked a modest smile

And told me that I was a warrior,

I smiled back

And took your advice

as I listened on as you shared your words,

We carried on sipping our hot drinks on that rainy winter day

as we shared our poetry and fragments of personal and made-up stories

As we do from time to time,

exchanging our thoughts and ideas

In this sacred space where everything goes and all is valid and worthy of critique

Where concepts flourish as they burn radical change through unturned pages

The uplifting and enlivening moments

Are the ones we must keep

And hold onto forever

To help us learn and grow