A Poem to Change Your Life…

Today I share with you a poem you may have never read that is so appropriate no matter the time in which you discover it. It is ageless…

If
by Rudyard Kipling

(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:



If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:



If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’



If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!




Song in My Heart

Song in My Heart

So faint and distant
it comes from a ghostly realm
where dreams go to die
and are no more.
It beats out of step 
behind a moldy door
left to fester and perish
no oxygen given
a place where no hope liveth.
But the song
the song is in my heart
covered under all the cobwebs
have almost pushed it out
into the cold...
Then sings my soul...
The song hangs on
clings to the last thread of stubborn will.
Or maybe a Spirit?
But I must bring forth this song.
Oh the song!
From generational curses
I must unearth this song.
Oh the song!
From death and hate
I must dig up the song.
Oh the song!
The song
the song!
It refuses to die.

It changes shape and space
but it remains the same.
A symphony of strange sounds
proclaims its immortality.
It rushes out from the dark places,
requires me to sing victory.
Because this song will never die
neither will I.
It is perfect
it is true
it is faithful
All this also I must be too.
I must find my new
yellow brick road
to claim my song.
Lost to me But never forgotten,
stolen 
but able to be restored.
My song-
only I can sing it -
the right way.
Oh the song!



From the Edge of Doom.

From the Edge of Doom.

From the edge of doom I stand.
Flames lick and caress my face
I can taste its essence
As my face drips with its lingering scent.
Just one more step
into a black void of nothingness
welcoming me home.
To step over 
I must get by the jagged edge of my conscience
that rebels
reminding me of my commitments.
But how do I escape this pain
of loss?
I do not know
I cannot tell.
I look behind
nothing.
I look ahead
also nothing.
But maybe this nothingness ahead
will give me rest.
Take away the pain,
maybe?

"whether you go or stay it does not matter
it's all the same - "

I must shake it lose
this beast that tries to devour me
telling me to move forward
over the edge.
Maybe there is still hope
whatever that is.
Like Lot's wife I am rooted
but I have looked back - 
again.
I cannot bend my knees
so I stand and pray - 
relieve!
As the flames mesmerize and thrill
I consider embracing the madness.
Should I give in?

"Who must I kill to find redemption?"

No one comes,
no one answers.
So I stand -
until I am pulled over by the flames
or drawn away by saving grace.

Dream…

Dream

Close your eyes
close it tightly.
tighter
a little tighter -
now dream.
Dream of the happiness you want more of.
Now dream.
Dream of the you you want to be
because it can be
not because you wished upon a star.
Now dream.
Dream about the things you have to do
things that need doing
things you were meant to be doing.
But these are not fantasies.
Not lost in another reality.
These are real buds
buds that just need to be pruned - 
watered with real tears
real blood.
They will grow and flourish 
but only because you made them so.

So dream
dream of peace, love and prosperity - 
not of this word but really real
fully ready to be plucked
really ready.

when the leaves have fallen
rotting all around.
When the musky scent of that refuse
assaults your sense
dream.
dream of a spring blooms a=with blossomed hope
true.
Wait for it.
Wait for the lazy summer days.
Days when you can fully reap the harvest - 
pluck miracles out of your baskets.
Dream, wider than your reach and hold them
to your bosom.
Let those dreams flow everywhere
bringing you to life
keeping you alive
fueling your very soul.

But  
never stop dreaming.
fight against the disease of dreamlessness.
a gangrene triumph that eats away slowly
 at the core of your essence. 

This is It

This is It.

Hold me
I don't feel so good.
I think I am going to explode
I need to go
let go of this pressure building up inside
I see double. triple - 
I can't see at all
I need
to sit
to stand
to take a break 
to get going
I am a mess!
I can't think clearly
I think too much
what will I do
what will I do?
I wish it would start
I hope it doesn't 
I'm not ready!
Oh God!
What will I do?
okay okay
I can do this
I must do this
I am going 
now now now!

- that's it
it's over?

I Do Not Know How…

I Do Not Know How...


I stand tall as a tree rooted deeply
I do not know how...

I can fly depths and heights unimagined
I cannot tell how...

What I build can never be destroyed
I cannot say how...

When I have lost the battle I still clench the victory
to show you I cannot...

The stormy clouds soothe but do not destroy me
a miracles I could not foretell...

Through glassy pains I see nothing 
but my vision is enough so I do not stumble...

Without a blueprint I build on a strong foundation
though the workmanship is not mine...

held at gunpoint the trigger pulled I survived
though I had not moved a muscle...

In my hand I held nothing but I have much
from nothing emerged plenty miracles...

All I wear is tattered but I am always warm
no logic science cannot tell...

I stand and sleep - there is only standing room
yet I am refreshed, renewed...

I do not know
I cannot tell'
but I know it is so...

Break All the Narratives

Break All the Narratives


Before you can  break those chains that cling lovingly
break all those narratives.

All those time you would be
confused
wondering 
why 
things just could not turn out right.
Why the curse had followed you 
from Eve's womb.

Stories told
of you
to you
about you
but never by you.
stories which condemned you
before you even tried.
They sought to bury
in the petrid soil of hopelessness - 
where you were told you belonged.
Never your story
never you.

it does not matter.
It does not matter
that you had to claw your way up.
That at your slow progress you shed all your feathers.
It does not matter
that two turned three and three five and five seven - perfect score.
You have changed the narrative.
Replaced the broken empty vessel to carry all the wisdom you need
to carry the water that restores.

When no one can help you
it is okay.
Okay to walk alone
okay to say goodbye to all that would entrap you.
It is okay to stop listening to the stories that do not define.
Okay to stop telling them as if they were family heirlooms. 
It is okay to forge a new story - 
one where you are the director and writer producer and teller.

to finally break free from the web of the lies you were told to be.