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Showing posts from September, 2007

ghosts

shiny slippery some stand back n just gaze at you the ice freezing your fragile heart others are in your face chiding n scowling jeering n chastising some only for a day others for a lifetime they talk among themselves plot n plan join forces delight in your unsettling waiting long periods until sure you are settled before pouncing out of the unknown then staying for weeks or months or years digging their evil tentacles deep under your skin transforming the way you see the way you feel n act others surface like excalibur majestically rising from deep below these ghosts are easy to frustrate you merely watch their rising n they pass is you let them i am into conquering ghosts banishing them back to their dark kingdom don't get me wrong this is no frank peretti inspired warfare blog nor is it the exorcist 1 2 or 3 the ghosts i banish are the stuff of our days moments of glory moments of failure moments of indescribable blandness just ordinary light n dark stuff each of us find our o

gotta make a break

holidays holy-days ho-lee daze (the little known contemplative chemist from mainland china) whatever they are here here they are and here i am in them plans always feature when you have a break maybe the need to do even when you get time off is an in-built human drive perhaps it is just a protestant work ethic disaster i should've left behind when i was younger so today i sit look at my to-do list and sigh it all seems too hard actually a whole lot of guff to make others happy i want to sit in the sun i want to drink wine i want to get my energy back i want to play guitar i want to read my books i want to write on my blog i want to sit for hours and think about what i want i want to pray i want to visit gallerys n museums i want to play with my kids i want to watch rain fall i want to listen to cd's i just want to be i want to live and let live i want to love n the funny thing is i was taught that what "i want" is selfish dunno where i got this from... but its not i

no title worthwhile

trapped in a silver compartment i escape via my favourite caffeine establishment a meandering walk up a trendy strip past my clients young n old waiting blearily for their transport i choose the stroll for reasons of body n mind to walk some stuff out i listen to my pod back to my church records again as i seek reassurance in kilbeys cryptic lyrics moody sounds of half light rocking other worldly mysticism my effort reaps some reward as i arrive my heart less pounding my spirit somewhat less burdened seeing the wood for the trees the little daily bumps for what they are less cataclysmic more reality n humility n hope still this stuff plagues us self worth tiredness issues unresolved past future present matrix which trap us manipulate and transform us but yet remain as our only means of growth moving the physical or a complete stop slow this process slow the effects of our minds moving too fast our souls can't catch up i walked this morning fro integration for balance 2 find love no

tea for one

night comes early rain falls with no pattern first drizzle n then suddenly intense it is my weather my moment power returns to my body creativity surges as the celsius plunges but i know my time is short summer is quickly chasing me stirring up the atmosphere pushing the isobars manipulating the meteorological patterns merely to spite me in summer i hide away endure the three months with callous humour surround meself with books n recordings a few years ago i found a list of great summer recordings q magazine i think it was used to love that rag but through the list i discovered joni mitchell hissing of the summer lawns an art record if there ever was one full of light n dark love exploration of the "pop song" as an artistic medium she surrounds herself with the best of her time the steely dan backing band peerless jazz players who have worked with miles nash n crosby minus stills how could you fail with that crew? the other record nick drake bryter layter an insider recordin

getting on with it

x=y a=b me=you land=sea us=them now=then black=white time=hope prayer=love guitar=joy work=cash night=thought life=journey=transformation music=exploration children=future food=fuel=movement sleep=re-creation dream=astral slow=stop end=now

when you get what you want ..

nak arrives at work early a day in which nothing is planned nothing prepared nothing required only to be there "your presence is required" like a call to jury duty nak finds this hard inspite of his contemplative nature the world n work n others have made him more a do-er a mover but not shaker and to be, not do as he is now called is alien n frightening he travels over to the temple and celebrates the mystery with a guru whose english requires him to repeat everything he says which makes the celebration interesting to say the least spends some time getting to know his new surroundings moving quietly between buildings stealthily listening to classes watching the place in action humming like a machine bells ring humanity floods coffee is consumed brief conversations ensue much time is spent sitting watching waiting thinking reading guilt floods in periodically n moments of self doubt require attention there is much to be undone unlearnt reestablished healed nak must give himse

in the kitchen of the library

i read. a lot. these days it doesn't seem to matter what i read sometimes a novel spirituality cricket history. now i am at two of my favourites cooking french provincial cooking by the legendary british writer Elizabeth David full of food n stories n ingredients i love but shouldn't have like butter n cream but lots of wine! the other is a book about the other the weird stone of brisingamen alan garner a writer who truly know about mystery strangeness it is a "children's book" but like narnia that simplistic category is meaningless a book of adventure n long forgotten myths that seem part of me i have only briefly left these books are feeding me enlightening me transforming me reading and cooking take me out of myself into a realm beyond i love the sizzle of the pan the glass of wine the art of cooking of blending and joining of creating a meal for my loved ones it is a divine act for me reading too books of garners nature leave me in space inside n outside pro

trippy afternoon

running always running keep moving don't stop movement is safety stillness equals certain capture i feel the breeze rip through me like razor wire as i escape the grinder other travellers full of their own journey scurry like factory rats their portable technology either keeping them safe or oblivious this rainy afternoon my red transport is strangely silent n smooth it moves through time n space transporting me in ways yet unfathomed rain falls more heavily now sideways trapping me all around the traffic slows lights flicker as reminders of distant destinations my pod hums its gentle tunes stop wait howling winds encase the city finally we break free the rain ends traffic disperses the god of lights is with me her green power guiding me quickly home out of the snarling afternoon into the arms of my loved ones

when two are one

we ran n ran through back streets past sand dunes valleys n overpasses ova rivers n grass racing the white lady and her slender companion our urgency fuelled by love and perhaps a little fear... we arrive momentarily before her her radiance warming us spreading out through gathered freends as she is greeted by her companion their vows to exchange words are read tokens exchanged deities invoked blessings dispensed memories are digitally preserved ck n i and a reunited freend drink coffees attack scones the party then begins the red wine flowed n flowed n ... we eat reunite with more lost companions toast the happiness of the couple i avoid the dance flaw preferring the moments of dialogue n sudden poetic inspiration we travel home tales of love lost n won fill our quiet talk... go well new couple fill your lives with love live in love let it fill you transform you move you forwards challenge n change you its a hard road this love it will take all of you n ask for more without a moments

some sort of wonderful

last night the poet turned 8 well, she celebrated the real date is tomorrow anyhow we took 7 kids to the movies rat a too eeee cool flick then to the restroom, i mean restaurant 5 kids lovely chinese feast is always an insight to see how your littlies relate with their mates can't believe i am the father of an eight year old but why not? shes cool n calm n bright as a button loves her music n reading n food n dancing is good with people is kind most of the time loves small children and animals can be fiery n difficult too at times we love her happy birthday little poet grow strong and true live in the light believe love give.

back to reality

new day new school new me tis a strange thing this "ministry" caper to start i need to stop to begin i need to find the others ending to companion others on their journey i need to wait silently and still to speak i need to earn the right to be seen i need to be around but be only me and not the teacher educator type i go through moments of bleakness of despair n hand-wringing self doubt but a smile for a girl you connect with a nod of passing acceptance from an older boy and you feel in some small way to be making some sort of progress to teach them of the mystery it to introduce them to themselves but if you don't know yourself then what hope do you have? i am poet musician all time muttering grumbly artist i am also great cook reader thinker and occasional comic genius explorer lover never fighter parent child friend here's where i start i think be me and let others in then share and move forwards

day 4 dads

father day in aus manic n wonderful all simultaneously spent part of the night up with the price he was trying to top the temperature charts yet again but the morning bought him hungry n refreshed day by day he improves the poet bought me gifts made at school n her smile i drank coffee ate french toast brioche and sent ck back to bed for her virus to run its course the two littilies and i spent the day tidying cooking relaxing watching ---------------------------------------------- father hood daddy hood parent hood is still a mystery to me after these eight years prince n poet teach me more than i ever dared realise i see clearly my strengths n experience my weaknesses i know how to bring comfort but my own need for healing becomes ever clearer i can sacrifice my own desires but all too often they surface n confront me in cruel fate i give advice to others on moulding their young n often fail at my own attempts with my two ... the poet nearly eight light n free wants to know it all no

fighting inside n out

fever has passed me by but the body is still languishing in yesterdays sleep filled body aching moments thoughts turn dark when defences are down messy things nasty things float around the upper cavities memories r reframed happiness misinterpreted self loathing apparent bitterness ever present it is merely physical not soul-ful a reaction n not a cause a friend shared coffee this morning the exertion to be there in this viral universe i presently inhabit was tough but worth it he talked about closure taking things personally about beginnings n endings the changes age brings faith growth virtual community it was almost too much to take in but so valuable to get the bigger picture when you are fighting the inside n out bless ya mate!