Tag Archive: poetry

The new battle

And so, it begins…

“The end is nigh!” they cry
for anyone caught by cancer’s snare.
Lie down, accept it, there’s nothing you can do.
Cancer’s got you, it doesn’t give a care.

I look on, incredulous, eyebrows raised high,
as the multitudes simply accept nature’s cruel gift,
…it must be accepted, cannot be denied.

The end is nigh? What tosh!
Cancer, you showed up early, announced yourself,
what hope do you really think you’ve got!?

I’ve spent 10 years waiting for you, preparing my mind, pacing the floor,
just in case you should decide to come knocking on my door,
and you know what, I’m almost pleased that you’re here.
Ha ha! Oh yes! I like a challenge I do, a battle, a just fight.
And you’re taking me on? You’re going for my life?!

Well have I got news for you sonny Jim.
I’ve got strength like you wouldn’t believe.
I’m a black belt in self belief,
with friends and family that’ll prop me back up when I fall,
to dust me down and push me back into the ring.

I’ve got all that… and what have you got, eh?
What have you got?
What. Have. You. Got.


Traveling daily on spinning wheels of freedom,
I pass so many faces in their steel boxes,
all with the same expression of spiritual deadness
…but making me feel all the more alive!
I smile inside… not at their loss,
but because I am not them.
My mind, coming from another place,
my soul’s energy buzzing, singing, responding to the beauty of life all around,
seeing and feeling Mother Nature,
in the form of rain and wind, sunlight and smells,
bearing witness to her wrapping herself around those steel boxes,
each of them a barricade to her,
each of them individually trapping a small part of the universe,
making it false,
holding it still, unchanging, stagnating,
changing nothing, creating nothing, feeding nothing,
and with no spirit being fed,
the spirit behind those faces lies dead.

I’m changing…

Today’s realisation…

Expression of the self cannot be done any more succinctly as a human, than by expressing one’s thoughts, beliefs, and experiences; …ultimately, one’s personal understanding of how life is; than through poems, music and movement.
There is no greater expression of what it is to be human than through allowing the absorption of the self into these moments of creation and performance.
This is what we are…

There are some pieces of music that I can’t listen to in the company of others, and events I cannot watch; in fact anything where a person pours heart and soul into that moment, as I can be so profoundly affected by them, that I’m quickly reduced to an emotional wreck! …it becomes embarrassing… but it feels, oh so good!

But what is it in me that does this??

I can only liken it to a form of empathy in some cases, and in others it seems that there is a resonance, like a tuning fork, that harmonises with my core, spirit, or soul.
What I find really interesting is that this has only occurred since I became more spiritual… so from around 10 years ago…. and it’s still growing!
It also happens more and more at times when I witness a person performing something well; something that is hugely important to themselves… like an athlete reaching the Olympic podium, or a shy musician being recognised for the first time… and even now whilst I type this and am thinking of various examples!

Whatever it is that’s changing, it is changing because I am constantly chasing that feeling of being in tune with those things that really matter to me.
Whatever it is, I like it!

The Universe is made of existence and non-existence,
interaction and change.
It cares not for the aspirations of man,
nor of his vanities, nor love of money.

The rules of the Universe provide the potential for utterly limitless creation…
this is the limitless potential of possibility!

The Universe expresses itself through form, radiation, life and constant change,
…and in one form of life, it even has the ability to look back on itself,
and that form once said:
Life is the means by which the universe understands itself.” – Brian Cox

As time progresses,
and we each grow older,
our eyes open a little more,
day by day.

When young we only experience and observe.
But with age comes understanding, and interest,
our natural tendancies leading us towards that which we naturally enjoy;
towards those things from which we derive personal satisfaction.

I have found that with age, and the more I learn,
the more I realise that there is to learn,
and the more that I wish to learn,
and that it drives my understanding of the world around me ever higher.

I never used to fear death,
the only fear had been of the way that I die.
But now I start to fear
that the ever-increasing reverence for life, building within me,
will reach a stage where the very idea of everything ending becomes unbearable.

I cannot see sense in believing that there is another experience after death.
I can only see that what makes me, me, will end,
that my conscious experience of the world around me will cease,
and that I will no longer be able to witness a sunrise,
a falling raindrop, or the changes of colour in the autumn leaves.

But as a warrior of life, and with what I’ve learned so far,
I know that with furrowed brow and a small, but strong smile, I should focus on the now,
for this moment leads to the next, and that moment to another,
and though each moment could be the last,
I’ve learned to love life, and I’ve learned it disappears fast.

The strongest bonds of friendship; of kinship,
are created in the shared fires of passion.

In the places where blood, sweat and tears flow,
and a person’s true nature shines through.

Those bonds are finally cemented for a lifetime,
through shared celebration of music, laughter and …er, beer.

I thank you all for giving me this,
for each playing a part in the creation of something great,
and I can only hope that I did enough by you too.


I am driven by the old man in me,
the old me looking back in time to now,
guiding me every day,
showing me what I should do to become the man I wish to be.

The old man in me is an octogenarian marathon runner,
the oldest rock-climber, and experienced adventure racer,
the one who shows others what is possible, if every day you live to ensure
that you are still capable of doing what you could do yesterday.

The old man in me speaks of fond memories of past accomplishments,
and of the things that he wished he’d done… not regrets; just simply because he didn’t have the time!
He warns me of how short life is, and of how I will never get the time to do everything I dream of.
Choose your goals well, but never give up on the dream.” he says…

The old man in me speaks of people I’ll lose in life: of how I’ll be witness to the results of poor lifestyles,
and the realisation that a rich lifestyle comes not from wealth, but from living life chasing dreams!
He shows me that to reach my goals, it is me that must look after me… and that I will become what I practice the most.
…hmm, I wish I didn’t practice sitting down in an office so much!

At nearly 40 years old, I look forward in time to my old self, pleased to see what I could become.
Pleased that today, I already fulfil some parts of what I wish to be.
Life is a journey. But it is a journey to becoming old; at the end looking back over the journey to remember the best bits.
Choose your goals well, for the destination of your life’s journey is in the memories of what the old you will look back upon.

When I reach my death bed, I hope that I will be able to smile and say “Wow. What a ride!

It is a fallacy to believe that Human nature has changed as a result of civilisation.
Men are still men; Women are still women, and children are still children.
Many times have I heard ‘We’ve evolved beyond all that’ ,
yet many times I have read in the newspapers and seen on the news channels
despicable things done by one human to another… only to hear a person say
in disgust, hatred, and dismay at what they have witnessed ‘They’re like animals!

…and I think ‘Yeah… aren’t they just.’ …because that’s what we are.
We are another creature that walks the planet.
Regardless of all our gizmo’s that distance us further from our true nature with every passing year.
Underneath the façade painted on our exterior, still lies the animal within,
the primal creature that will fight dirty to feed and protect her children,
to gain that little advantage over another when the going gets really tough.

When the master painter paints a master piece, he starts with a blank canvas.
This is wetted and stretched around a frame, thus altering its original nature.
Now free from creases and warps, it is ready to be obscured by an alternative surface.
A surface that is carefully applied, layer upon layer until the final work reveals itself.
However, the original canvas is still there. It supports the layers of built up brush strokes.
But if it were removed from the frame, folded or rolled, the layers would start to crack,
the original surface would begin to show through, and it becomes apparent
that the painting only masks the original canvas… the original nature.

When born we are each a blank canvas.
During our early years, we are stretched and moulded to fit the human mould of our local culture.
Then civilisation, projected through our parents and peers begins to paint the brush strokes,
laying down layer upon layer of quiet indoctrination, each one supported by the last.
Finally, at some point during our teenage years, we become the person we will always be,
only to have the brush strokes of our chosen path reinforce the earlier layers,
the colours and directions becoming ever more regulated; ever more predictable.
In our final years, the layers are so deep that the canvas can no longer flex,
everything so stiff, so rigid… so inflexible,
that regardless of the original nature of our canvas, we are incapable of expressing it at all.

Surely, the greatest gift a person can give is to help guide young people towards searching for, finding,
and understanding their canvas… their original nature.
If still young enough, they can free themselves of the traditional path of their forefathers,
and that, they will witness, which is followed by most.
I, for one, cannot see a greater way of expressing oneself, than to express it through your original nature,
…but perhaps that’s simply a result of the shape of my canvas.


All men are followers

All men are followers,
some men are leaders too.
The followers follow a man
because they see something of value
in what he teaches, or what he does.
The leader follows too,
following an idea or vision.
What separates the leaders from the followers,
is that they will walk their own path,
even if no one follows them.

Which one are you…?


Freedom found

Standing here,
looking out through these eyes of mine,
I see you looking back at me.
You wait for me to entertain,
to provoke,
or to dance in the rain.
But I don’t… I won’t … I can’t.

Do you have dreams, I wonder,
that are held back by stupid pride,
or insecurities like mine?
…the irrational fears that stop me
from  dancing in that rain
for fear of what others will think of me…

The storm clouds open,
unleashing torrents of abuse.
I try to object,
try to go out into the rain,
but ‘tis no use.

The chains I so want to break,
hold me fast,
they were made to be strong,
they were made to last.
I grit my teeth
knowing the pain that will come
pulling hard on the chains
really REALLY giving some.
They strain, I strain,
something’s got to give
…will it be me…?
NO! this time I must be strong,
and at last I feel I have the strength to carry on.
But I must be prepared to push forever
…or be lost forever.

The barbs on the chains,
they tear at the flesh
I grind my teeth,
with pain I wrest.
I feel them give… just a little,
but it hurts so much.
Perhaps I should give up… NO!
Push more I must.

In one final heave,
one surge of courage,
I tear myself free… free at last!
Free to dance in the rain.
…but instead, I find that the clouds begin to part…
and sunshine filters through
each beam of light bright, like stars in the dark.

I wanted to dance in the rain,
but instead I bask in the light…
the light of complete freedom,
wondrous at how it illuminates everything
so clear, and so bright…
The clarity startling,
the last of the raindrops sparkling.

I turn and look back at the chains
lying prostrate on the floor,
but already starting to rise toward me once more.

Stepping away and out of their reach
I feel free and young,
like a child, wide-eyed  on a beach.

I look again, once more at you,
and with pity I smile inside
at what I see with this fresh eyed new view.

I turn, I jump, I run and I skip.
I play on the turf,
like dolphins in surf.

I’m free, I’m FREE!
As free as can be
and I wave goodbye to insecurity.

The horizon of possibility approaches,
and I finally realise that I, yes me! can be,
that I