...and the Greatest of these is Love?

I love the way the golden light

glances of the earth below

when the sun is sinking

to rest elsewhere

and

I love walking in the autumn time

through the crunchy leaves

all rusted and rich

in their transience

but, Love?

I love seeing my breath

like little wisps of mist

on dark wintry nights

lit up under streetlights

and

I love listening to Dinah Washington

as I stroll melancholy through the streets

weighted down with longing

for all things lost and gone

but, Love?

I love watching the birds

flick among the naked branches

stripped by the season's change

oblivious and light

and

I love seeing children play

smiling and giddy

carefree and mischievous

abandoned to pleasure

but, Love?

Love is for junkies

free people can never love

You can never love and be free

for Love is the wax of your foolish wings

Love is nothing but a word

spewed out of drunk mouths

at three in the morning

brimming with big empty feelings


Love is a word for magicians

addicted to illusions

getting lost in smokescreens

trying to make the loneliness disappear

Loss and Loneliness

To forget what it is
to kiss
and
to be kissed

To forget what it is
to hold
and
to be held

we have all been born
and we have
all been left
out here

abandoned
god forsaken
alone

we all know what that feels like
don't we?

to forget what intimacy feels like
looking up at stars in the night sky
in their splendid isolation
weaving connections
that aren't there
except in our
drunken minds

After the Hurting

After the hurting,
after the pain of separation
the realisation of differentness
after the disillusionment
after the end of enchantment

the reality of our
aloneness
alone
isolated
in the world of our feelings

what next

do we build bigger, higher defences
reinforcing security
on our boundaries and borders
on our territories
attempting to guard
against the traumas
against the enemies

do we get more adept at avoiding
and distrusting
refusing to allow
closeness and proximity
in case the other gets
close enough to kill
or wound us

do we find complex ways
of pushing people away
making sure they keep their distance
making sure that those who get in
pledge allegiance to our constitutions
resound their patriotism
to our policies
and principles

or do we keep on loving
knowing that...

if we avoid feeling hurt, we avoid love
if we avoid feeling pain, we avoid life
if we avoid feeling afraid, we avoid abundance
if we avoid feeling angry, we avoid intimacy
if we avoid feeling loss, we avoid truly holding anything

and, I know in the midst of this which will bring me more joy
but, sometimes it seems that we don't allow joy into our lives
either because we feel we don't deserve it
resolute in our need for eternal punishment
or because we are so hooked on the tragic rendition of our lives
that we fear we will fade into obscurity if we choose happiness
or that if we stopped picking these old wounds,
and found resolution and closure
we would lose something far too precious
even when that precious thing is slowly killing us

or maybe we just feign recovery
and fuck the pain away
keeping the past alive
in our behaviours
in our museum of forgetting

Your Love is like a Strangle Hold

I am a little Midas
touching things, and turning them into gold

the curse of one who attaches too much meaning
to the world he lives in
and the people he shares it with

this is not to say
that we ought not care for those around us
but, we are oftentimes investing far more
than we would like to admit
and far more than we ought
in the hidden economies of the heart

under the influence of our desires
we can
reduce the others we love,
down to our idealised visions of them
we relate to them as
trinkets, amulets and charms
rather than as the ordinary people that they are

flesh and blood and neuroses

we dehumanise them by
scripting them into our secret stories

the dynamics of needing
can be visible from the very outset of relationship
and needing strangles the life out of relationship
for no-one needs any specific other person

When we write stories, of how we couldn't survive
without that special someone
we are writing painful stories for ourselves
and stories that are radically disempowering to ourselves
and the more we live out narratives of disempowerment,
the more we drain the emotional reserves
of the others we are in relationship with.

our symptoms are evident in our participations,
evident in the energy of our togetherness

our secret stories are evident in our participation
even if not evident to us
for the last thing we would want to do
is acknowledge the naked emperor of our own making

the story of our participation, is also the story of our withdrawal

want to know why we withdraw,
look at how we participate

want to know the history of the separateness,
look for the energy in the togetherness

Midas Touch

He wanted things to be so valuable to him, for life to be abounding in meaning. He either hated people, or loved them, and ignored everyone in between. Life was a goldmine. Well, that was, until he received the gift, that whatever he touched would be turned to gold.

Meaning quickly went out the window, for he realised, that the value he had put on things, had far exceeded what had already been there. He touched things he liked, and they became gold. He touched things he loved, and they became gold. When things turned to gold...they died. There could be no life in things of gold. They could just be trinkets; lifeless trinkets, and amulets...but nothing of worth. Well, worth, that is a whole conundrum, and meaning; well, that is can of worms one ought not open.

Anything that had value to Midas, he had to let go off. He had to surrender the very things he viewed as most worthy, because, as soon as he ascribed it more meaning than it ought to have had, if became golden. It became dead and lifeless. The more it meant to him, the more likely it was that this thing or person, would be become dead to him.

And so, he learnt to love the ordinary things in this life, with out clinging to them. Without ascribing them too much meaning, lest they become gold. He learnt to touch gently, in a way that kept the other alive and animate.

He redeemed flesh, and blood, and let go of value and meaning, or at least allowed them to become rich and ordinary.

But, how did he keep his friends, when they meant so much to him? How did he keep lovers, when they meant so much to him? How did he live with other people, when they meant so much to him?

He had to learn to navigate this world, loving, but not clinging....finding value, but not attaching too heavily. Touching lightly. Light enough, to avoid the Midas Curse.

Thrown-ness

Thrown into the world
but
not quite thrown
forced into the world:
from safety into chaos

into a world of separateness
of others
separate-others
a world,
terrifying with possibilities,
of possible outcomes

and most of them
radically beyond our control

we feel vulnerable
at the mercy of the world
and yet, in many ways,
we long to be at the mercy again
but, the mercy of that
dark tranquil sea
where
we are radically dependent
but looked after
where everything is looked after
where we are held

and as we tentatively grow
we find temporary places
like
refuge shelters
safer places
to evoke the memory
of that once-sacred union
so intensely together

that time when there was no separateness
the time of radical dependence
when we were powerless,
but we were looked after
by a raw chemistry

a nature that knew our needs
and responded instantly
like a benevolent God
who answered prayers
before they were even known
in the heart of the believer

places of focus
places of concentration
places of fixation
places of fascination
places of forgetfulness
places of letting go

to offset the terror of this harsh world
a world too harsh for the likes of me and you

we learnt to dream
of magic wands
and
fantasies of control
of moving things, changing things
rearranging things, altering things
making things different
than they are
different
than they were

and as we grow,
we can find ourselves longing to have control over
other people in our worlds
desiring
to change feelings, to make things better
longing to have more control
to know what we cannot know
to be where we cannot be
to do what we cannot do

because this life is far too harsh
far too harsh
for the likes of you and me

Master of this Ship

The child within is at the helm of this ship

charting a course toward its own satisfaction

this is why I am not master of my own ship

for the I is the created ego

the creation, the facade,

the presentation, the public face.

There are much more primary things

hidden things

that go on under the presentation

that go on under the mask of civilisation

and sociability

there is a hidden economy

we will meet our needs

any which way but lose

The child at the helm, is not vulnerable

not like we make out

the child is not innocent

innocence is a nostalgic projection made by

the adulterated children, we call adults

we were never innocent

we are need-meeters

and play whatever role we can to do this

we always did

we are highly skilled at it

we just like to kid ourselves into thinking otherwise

we have always tried to meet our needs

even at the expense of others

even in the womb we were doing this

and nothing much has changed

and we hate it when the world

does not dance around our needs and desires,

like a servant to our whims.

We desire reciprocity

We want people to want what we want, when we want it, and how we want it

The reciprocation of desire

the desire for synchronicity

the longing for the world to dance with us

but, often it feels like the world is sitting out the dance

when you desire something, and reality isn't obliging,

we can feel dejected, as the myth crumbles

reality stands in the way

life is a competition of needs

relationships are a competition of needs

we just play the game

of plausible deniability

denying how involved we are

in playing roles

playing innocent

but, we were never innocent...and that is ok

we were never innocent,

and that does not make us worse human beings

we were always foraging around in the world around us, 

trying to get our needs met

even as children, we were very clever, 

and learnt to manipulate people and circumstances

it is just that somewhere along the journey, 

we forgot that we were doing it

we became blind-spotted to it.

but, it is ok...it is nothing to be ashamed of

it is ok to meet your needs...it is ok to do what you need to do

even if that pisses off other people

even if you meeting your needs triggers difficult feelings in others.

it is ok to do what you need to do.

the trick is, knowing what it is we need to do

that is the greater conundrum by far

The Strength to Fall Apart

when all things seem stacked against you
when the world seems to have a vendetta against you
and is not letting up
when it all mounts up
and you cannot bear it anymore

may you find the strength to fall apart

when obligations are weighing heavy on you
when you feel like you cannot do anything more to please
and you can't take it anymore
can't bear the expectations
and the disappointments

may you find the strength to give up

and I will be there with you

fallen apart
and
given up

for sometimes what we need to do is let go