Reading a few of my poems at an arts festival this weekend … excited, nervous, unsure … first time I will be reading my poems in a public domain, exposing my thoughts, emotions and journey to strangers, in person. Totally different feeling from posting them online or reading to a friend now and again. Possibly the next step in me moving into a more “serious” position on my writings. 😱📖🤔
Selected 5 poems to read (doing some practice readings) , will gauge the audience a see how many they can handle.
at the centre of his imagination
all is blurred or veiled
this continual tussle between
reveal or shadow
inevitably creating a journey of suspense
allowing for at times,
no resolution or closure
retreating into these lost shadows
this private reticence
of an untold, nay oft told story
out of sight, off camera
might become an annoyance
but is it not the journey
rather than that, never reached destination
that casts the longer shadow
and matters more?
how long must one endure?giving up not coz I don’t carebut because others don’tI’ve fuckin’ had enoughstepping back from life’s bullshitfighting a losing battletrying not to lose warby losing the battlehow deep must one dig?until you find it all,then to discovermaybe you still do….
Sad but true – far to often I get caught up in this type of corporate greed, where for a few dollars more or an attempt to save on a budget line item …. staff/practitioners are put at risk. Here we go again … just for a few dollars more on our bottom line lets see how we can fuck you over whilst you slave away on the ground in the middle of a pandemic, let me count the ways I can fuck you over salary, equipment, medications .. oh I’m sure I will find a way; to increase my “cost saving” bonus at year end … but don’t worry says the fat cat – while he sits at home; sees his family, sips his whiskey and enjoys the comforts and human touch, whilst those of us in the trenches have (as usual) none …
Take a read at the poem in the link below … nothing changes …they always the same, no matter how many times they revisit their values and mission statements at fancy weekend management conventions ..
home is where we startbut not where were it endsthe pathway from birth to deathis littered with choicescollected, used, stored, discardedsome stones sparkle and temptothers lie cracked, damaged, exposedby life's harsh realitiesyet there is value in these damaged stonesand then, one day, I will die somewhereagainst my will or another’s
but not today