To have and to hold
To have nothing at all
Quit trying to please
The hard working honey bees
Yes make music please
But no not to please me
You please him with your sex scribe
Is it art to which to mortify?
Don’t cry, don’t even speak
Your words and no longer knee deep
Im out to retreat to breathe in my own thoughts
Shed the guilt of the valueless lessons you taught
Good luck with your self
Your prayer and your health
Milk for the thirsty for the baby in blue
Toy with emotions is all that you do
No cream. No pillow, no cow trying for you
Full cream milk do clean the scattered winged dove
Full of lies, of shit will leave you un reached by love
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
intamacy
mm kisses with my mini meif i had the choice
i would crawl under your skin just to be closer to you
people who know me know im an effection being, but it comes from a place of truth...dont try and figure me out...just hold my hand and enjoy the silence...
i can get enough of human interaction
besides breathe its the one thing we all need and feel from a universal level..
life is too short
turn to your neighbour
grab there hand, throw a smile, a wink
don't think..just hug it out
family, friends new beings, animals, sick sad people..each day i try to spread a lil lovin because really 'all we need is love.'..........
short story inside a shell
this is an old story of mine..but thought i would share as it was considered for publication after i submitted it into a Austalian writing magazine for under 25 ..
i heard back personally from the editor with a re drafted piece by the woman herself! a rarity in the writing world! however i missed the boat as i was living in Byron at the time and to slow with my email responses as internet was far from my mind and access...
the fact it was recognised and felt was enough for me..its pretty dark and based on a personal experience...about someone special to me at the time and i felt compelled to write from my side of the shell after he gave me his journal to read- the journal was devowled in one nights sit, and touched the inside of my being- he recorded all he felt in this traumatic moment in his life..........peace with you all...
enjoy.
INSIDE A SHELL
Darius has lived a good life so far.
Free from suffering.
Full of blessings, family, music and laughter.
With Islander blood and rhythmic intuition Darius seems to sail through success, lovers, parties and friendships.
He has worked hard for his credits fully knowing, yet unassuming as to the talent he has been blessed with.
Little does Darius know yet of his psychic abilities, and lately I feel his ego slipping into new heights.
He marks homage to his faith, baring a crucifix around his neck and reaps from the music industry benefits on offer.
Girls booze and parties…
Guitar in one hand, charisma in the other. He carries himself well.
Darius is about to fall.
Experience severe sorrow.
Now is not a good time for him, now he will enter the room and never be the same.
Please have respect for him and his family at this difficult time.
…
Pen to paper, thoughts to prayer, nothing can block it, prevent it, or even stall it anymore, his being taken from me.
A sea of guilt floods repentance to my brain. I can’t hear anything or look at my mother anymore.
I need to pray, the chapel may be my escape mechanism at the moment buts it’s the only means available to me where I can help him find peace.
I can’t face another single sad look from my family, the ‘we are so sorry’ look in their eyes burns wholes in my chest.
I can’t explain it but there is a supreme force enate in the air somewhere above my head and my frequent visits to the chapel are drawing it closer. What I need to do with it I am not sure, the one that would usually help me lays lifeless by my side.
The chapel offers hope and quiet; it offers a strange sense of endurance or adrenalin that I desperately appreciate right now. It acts as replacement for rest and food something my body misses frequently.
Somehow I can just manage to move from car to room, to chapel to sleep, to lunch to chair to shower, to my brothers bed side.
Prayer for him. Prayer for us.
I asked Darren if he was scared.
He nodded. I felt something die inside me from that. I could not let him be scared. That’s one thing I can heal, if not his health but his fear. My brother, his my boy, my life and he knows I have it in me. It hurts to breathe to even turn my head, but what on earth he must be feeling at full right now I can’t imagine. I will spend ever last minute ensuring his not scared. Pass in peace my brother.
…..
Darius sat next to his brother studying his face. He no longer looked like his old self. Darius new in this moment he was actually going to loose his baby brother.
Loose his own sense of life and love. He could feel hope somewhere still, but uncertainty and fear triggered bullets in his mind that he refused to simply dodge anymore.
The pair were partners in crime. Adored and marvelled.
A rare blend of genuine brotherly love, music and creativity when put together were undefinable. Magnetic. Intoxicating.
The record deal was signed, the States in their horizon. Life was good. From humble upbringings they were about to live out their dream, the sweetest part of it all for them. Living it together.
Darren was three years younger than Darius and since birth barely left his brothers side. With no father around Darius felt responsible for his baby bro. He cared unfathomably deep for him and trained him into manhood when superior advise was all but absent. This was not a one way street of guidance however. As the pair grew up and became young men, they too became each others advisors; they were business partners, music creators, and best friends.
Darren was essentially his brother’s soul mate. His sole priority.
Nothing or no one will repair this tear. Tears now flood. The chapel door closes.
Bare a thought for his desperation. Re read the previous paragraph. Adhere to what was at stake. Life, youth, chance, love abolished.
Do come in.
…
I sit solid in prayer among a forum of angels, descendents and God, I pray ruthlessly, theirs are too in tune with mine, I will sit until I am heard.
Heavenly father hear my prayer
Here my plea, take me over him. Take all from me if you must, take my voice, my talent, my money, I will struggle for us both.
If you must take him from me let him not be afraid. Hold his hand, sing to him, I do not hate or blame you, I love you I worship all you do, I connect to your higher spirit I accept your way, I beg of you, if you must take him from us let his soul be upright and ok. Let him swing in breezes of golden rays, electrocute his mind with love so he is truly weightless and white.
Take him to his dream place where he can make it through and the moon and stars can’t even compare, take him to the love empire where he can stay for eternity.
I surrender my all to bear his suffering, list what you require of me and I will meet every need with force and without hesitance. I am yours to take.
Pros and cons.
Materials
To do lists
Brain storms
Lyrics
Lists mark my life. In pay cheques, identity, dreams and ideals.
What can I write now?
Who can I write with?
I need my brother. I need to hold his hand.
….
This room we are now looking down on is the room that will forever haunt Darius’s conscience. One room. One table. One doctor. Mum, sister, aunty and grandparents all grieve in silence or screams, and the room compassed with severe rays of pain and sensitivity cannot in any way dare to lend a hand.
The words seem to surreal to fathom.
‘Darren is going to die. I am so terribly sorry, the cancer is spreading now and a rapid rate and his body can’t fight it anymore.’
‘All you can do now is say your goodbyes and be with him until the end.”
Can you even imagine it?
A twenty six year old boy, stripped down to his shell, forced out of his body and life, into some other world. All too soon. Prayer for him. It’s ok to shed a tear.
…
I looked at Darren with every piece of my being, trying to force light upon him and inhale all the sorrow out of the room.
He just lay there in his shell. Out bodies are mere shells man, the face I stared into that was no longer my brother.
I told him I loved him and asked him if he loved me.
He couldn’t move.
I told him to squeeze my hand if he was scared. Nothing. I then told him to squeeze my hand if he loved me. The bones in my fingers felt like pieces of bruised fruit with everything I knew he had left in him Darren squeezed at my knuckles.
Tears streamed from my face in a strange downpour of sheer sadness and relief.
I deflated into his arms lying on my brother.
I felt his shell, cold and still, no longer in use, no more of me there. His fear passed, mine now creeping into my shell more alive than life itself.
I wept and held him and he surrendered.
I wanted so badly for my brother to live; instead I must live without him and have you always by my side. You sadness and you fear accompany me instead of Darren?
Yet Father I love you, yet my faith is more prominent than ever.
You tell me now how any of this is fair?
Pray for us. Pray for me.
i heard back personally from the editor with a re drafted piece by the woman herself! a rarity in the writing world! however i missed the boat as i was living in Byron at the time and to slow with my email responses as internet was far from my mind and access...
the fact it was recognised and felt was enough for me..its pretty dark and based on a personal experience...about someone special to me at the time and i felt compelled to write from my side of the shell after he gave me his journal to read- the journal was devowled in one nights sit, and touched the inside of my being- he recorded all he felt in this traumatic moment in his life..........peace with you all...
enjoy.
INSIDE A SHELL
Darius has lived a good life so far.
Free from suffering.
Full of blessings, family, music and laughter.
With Islander blood and rhythmic intuition Darius seems to sail through success, lovers, parties and friendships.
He has worked hard for his credits fully knowing, yet unassuming as to the talent he has been blessed with.
Little does Darius know yet of his psychic abilities, and lately I feel his ego slipping into new heights.
He marks homage to his faith, baring a crucifix around his neck and reaps from the music industry benefits on offer.
Girls booze and parties…
Guitar in one hand, charisma in the other. He carries himself well.
Darius is about to fall.
Experience severe sorrow.
Now is not a good time for him, now he will enter the room and never be the same.
Please have respect for him and his family at this difficult time.
…
Pen to paper, thoughts to prayer, nothing can block it, prevent it, or even stall it anymore, his being taken from me.
A sea of guilt floods repentance to my brain. I can’t hear anything or look at my mother anymore.
I need to pray, the chapel may be my escape mechanism at the moment buts it’s the only means available to me where I can help him find peace.
I can’t face another single sad look from my family, the ‘we are so sorry’ look in their eyes burns wholes in my chest.
I can’t explain it but there is a supreme force enate in the air somewhere above my head and my frequent visits to the chapel are drawing it closer. What I need to do with it I am not sure, the one that would usually help me lays lifeless by my side.
The chapel offers hope and quiet; it offers a strange sense of endurance or adrenalin that I desperately appreciate right now. It acts as replacement for rest and food something my body misses frequently.
Somehow I can just manage to move from car to room, to chapel to sleep, to lunch to chair to shower, to my brothers bed side.
Prayer for him. Prayer for us.
I asked Darren if he was scared.
He nodded. I felt something die inside me from that. I could not let him be scared. That’s one thing I can heal, if not his health but his fear. My brother, his my boy, my life and he knows I have it in me. It hurts to breathe to even turn my head, but what on earth he must be feeling at full right now I can’t imagine. I will spend ever last minute ensuring his not scared. Pass in peace my brother.
…..
Darius sat next to his brother studying his face. He no longer looked like his old self. Darius new in this moment he was actually going to loose his baby brother.
Loose his own sense of life and love. He could feel hope somewhere still, but uncertainty and fear triggered bullets in his mind that he refused to simply dodge anymore.
The pair were partners in crime. Adored and marvelled.
A rare blend of genuine brotherly love, music and creativity when put together were undefinable. Magnetic. Intoxicating.
The record deal was signed, the States in their horizon. Life was good. From humble upbringings they were about to live out their dream, the sweetest part of it all for them. Living it together.
Darren was three years younger than Darius and since birth barely left his brothers side. With no father around Darius felt responsible for his baby bro. He cared unfathomably deep for him and trained him into manhood when superior advise was all but absent. This was not a one way street of guidance however. As the pair grew up and became young men, they too became each others advisors; they were business partners, music creators, and best friends.
Darren was essentially his brother’s soul mate. His sole priority.
Nothing or no one will repair this tear. Tears now flood. The chapel door closes.
Bare a thought for his desperation. Re read the previous paragraph. Adhere to what was at stake. Life, youth, chance, love abolished.
Do come in.
…
I sit solid in prayer among a forum of angels, descendents and God, I pray ruthlessly, theirs are too in tune with mine, I will sit until I am heard.
Heavenly father hear my prayer
Here my plea, take me over him. Take all from me if you must, take my voice, my talent, my money, I will struggle for us both.
If you must take him from me let him not be afraid. Hold his hand, sing to him, I do not hate or blame you, I love you I worship all you do, I connect to your higher spirit I accept your way, I beg of you, if you must take him from us let his soul be upright and ok. Let him swing in breezes of golden rays, electrocute his mind with love so he is truly weightless and white.
Take him to his dream place where he can make it through and the moon and stars can’t even compare, take him to the love empire where he can stay for eternity.
I surrender my all to bear his suffering, list what you require of me and I will meet every need with force and without hesitance. I am yours to take.
Pros and cons.
Materials
To do lists
Brain storms
Lyrics
Lists mark my life. In pay cheques, identity, dreams and ideals.
What can I write now?
Who can I write with?
I need my brother. I need to hold his hand.
….
This room we are now looking down on is the room that will forever haunt Darius’s conscience. One room. One table. One doctor. Mum, sister, aunty and grandparents all grieve in silence or screams, and the room compassed with severe rays of pain and sensitivity cannot in any way dare to lend a hand.
The words seem to surreal to fathom.
‘Darren is going to die. I am so terribly sorry, the cancer is spreading now and a rapid rate and his body can’t fight it anymore.’
‘All you can do now is say your goodbyes and be with him until the end.”
Can you even imagine it?
A twenty six year old boy, stripped down to his shell, forced out of his body and life, into some other world. All too soon. Prayer for him. It’s ok to shed a tear.
…
I looked at Darren with every piece of my being, trying to force light upon him and inhale all the sorrow out of the room.
He just lay there in his shell. Out bodies are mere shells man, the face I stared into that was no longer my brother.
I told him I loved him and asked him if he loved me.
He couldn’t move.
I told him to squeeze my hand if he was scared. Nothing. I then told him to squeeze my hand if he loved me. The bones in my fingers felt like pieces of bruised fruit with everything I knew he had left in him Darren squeezed at my knuckles.
Tears streamed from my face in a strange downpour of sheer sadness and relief.
I deflated into his arms lying on my brother.
I felt his shell, cold and still, no longer in use, no more of me there. His fear passed, mine now creeping into my shell more alive than life itself.
I wept and held him and he surrendered.
I wanted so badly for my brother to live; instead I must live without him and have you always by my side. You sadness and you fear accompany me instead of Darren?
Yet Father I love you, yet my faith is more prominent than ever.
You tell me now how any of this is fair?
Pray for us. Pray for me.
swirling ink
i write because i can.
because i was assumed a role and folllowed their lead.
i write to taste my thoughts
to sleep, for peace.
i write because he told me to
more so
because she told me not to.
i write to prove nothing.
i write to learn about myself
to give a vessel to the silenced ghost screaming in my thoughts.
i write for children who never get the chance
to hold a pen to paper and let their minds dance.
i write to enforce an illusion
so all the useless information holds a purpose
i write so you listen,
i write so i stop.
i write physically mentally, incontrollably.
i write to create my own words
to feel among the men…im louder than your power.
i write to feel, to touch, to be full blown intimate.
intimate with the guts of human resourcefulness
i write to feel power
to feel controll.
i write about what i have learnt and lost
i write about nothing at all nothing at all.
to chai?
its winter..warm up your insides man with realllllllchai. i think its great that this ridiculous thearapudic tea is now such a trend and so accessable. and i knoowww the powdery ones just taste so sweet and yummy! but they are full of sugar and alot of crap. sure a better alternative to coffee and a sweet treat but there are so many now its hard to know whats what..green tea chai, vanilla chai, chocolate, skim this that spiced huh? get yourself some local made delicous chai and a pot to have a home. you'll save a ton of money and be helping the planet by using less take away cups;) i spend 8 beauitful months living in Byron, and spent many a moments loving and healing among beauitful beings in the chai tents scattered around all the markets. feel at one with the earth and warming my heart with the cinnimony goodness.connect with your indian sisters/brothers and tune it to the benefits. get more of the spice in your life. real chai minus all the white sugar and gunk, originates from the annals of india some 5000 years ago belonging to a healing system that relied on herbs and spices to cure various ailments. its a calming agent, helps the immune system, digestion, reduce body aches, cold and flu symtoms..get it in ya!! as the cup touches your lips you feel each special little treat hit your throat, your heart, your kindeys, your mind. check the site for where to purchase it. most health food stores stock it these days. melbournian check passion foods in south melbourne, or wholefoods in Brighton. it costs around 10 bucks and brewing it yourself- gives it that extra special magic. share it with loved ones, or your favourite show at night. but experience the real deal man.chai@byronchai.com.au
blessings.beauty.be.. just add honey me oh my fix it with chai;)
'imagine 88'
see that tat on my right wrist?
his my main man...mr. john lennon. arrogant or not
channeled a wave inside my depth.
when i was relentlessly sick with chronic fatigue i tapped into my need for music and my apparent connection with its roots.
i found lyrics efforless and melodies easy to construct. now i cant image my life without singing and when i decided to get a musical tatoo it only made sense to pay homage to him. I found it far too cliche and obvious (two things i hate to be) to get music notes.
instead after watching the 'Image' documentary, my opinion of music changed. the 88 is my lucky number (in 8) but also singificant as it popped up everywhere in the doco and his biography. The number of his house, places, records, millions, and he was shot on the 8th 1980...i later had my brothers intials added but thats a whole other story in itself. M.L. Imagine may not be my ultimate favourite song to listen to but it is my favourite song ever from a writing point of view. it has instant heart, connection, depth. it is easy and catchy. the melody and keys are genius and accessable and the message pure and simple. it suites all occasions and is timeless. not many can make a timeless tune- perhaps sir elton john and of course Micheal Jackson. Lennon and I had that moment. I have had a few in my life thus far. You know those moments where everything stops. something shifts. you change for the better, you have an epiphany, your eyes open, your weighless. its white, its God. whatever it is its magnificent. so it s only fitting i have him on my body- as part of my story- another dab of ink to the kapella canvas
'your talk is cheap'
Unsure, why you started a silent war
Between an intimacy that liked us both.
Words are meant to be spoken
Is your heart still broken?
Is it scared of me
Because it shouldn’t be
I love for free. Deep. Free
Is me.
I’m a gypsy I’m going to wander I guess you wonder where that leaves you?
Cant we just see
Over analysing is a blind philosophy
Your silence is deafening me
Speak
Speak! you’re an artist express yourself
You seemed to have no trouble opening your mouth
When its counts….though
Numbers a few…
I tried to phone where are you?
I told you to do your thing
You took my words wrong
You got bruised confused
You took my words wrong
Hazed in by the green you smoke
Wary that I bring you hope
Too soon to feel this way that’s cool baby cool
Too soon to feel isn’t real- weap pity for the fool
Foolish is it to disconnect
Neglect what the universe threw
A lucky stike for two.
Two phoenixes that need to burn before they rise again
My wings may be fragile too but I need an honest man
You took my words wrong
I welcome you to come along
Im sorry for what they implied inside…
But after such an intense moment
Your words now feel like lies.
You dont need to promise me things
Yes please just do your thing
But come to me when your ready
Because darling it may feel heavy,
Heavy isn’t bad, heavy is your conscience
Fall apart on me if need be
I love to love that side- see..
That I come as I am…
I don’t have an agenda
Before you work on your art, quit being a pretender
..kapellarella..
Between an intimacy that liked us both.
Words are meant to be spoken
Is your heart still broken?
Is it scared of me
Because it shouldn’t be
I love for free. Deep. Free
Is me.
I’m a gypsy I’m going to wander I guess you wonder where that leaves you?
Cant we just see
Over analysing is a blind philosophy
Your silence is deafening me
Speak
Speak! you’re an artist express yourself
You seemed to have no trouble opening your mouth
When its counts….though
Numbers a few…
I tried to phone where are you?
I told you to do your thing
You took my words wrong
You got bruised confused
You took my words wrong
Hazed in by the green you smoke
Wary that I bring you hope
Too soon to feel this way that’s cool baby cool
Too soon to feel isn’t real- weap pity for the fool
Foolish is it to disconnect
Neglect what the universe threw
A lucky stike for two.
Two phoenixes that need to burn before they rise again
My wings may be fragile too but I need an honest man
You took my words wrong
I welcome you to come along
Im sorry for what they implied inside…
But after such an intense moment
Your words now feel like lies.
You dont need to promise me things
Yes please just do your thing
But come to me when your ready
Because darling it may feel heavy,
Heavy isn’t bad, heavy is your conscience
Fall apart on me if need be
I love to love that side- see..
That I come as I am…
I don’t have an agenda
Before you work on your art, quit being a pretender
..kapellarella..
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
yo yo!! its like a yo yo
hello lovers brothers friends and lovers
this is my new blog. where i will be posting works in which i will be submitting for publications, and simply to share and entertain. i have offically been baptised a writer now so i hope be able to put into practice all i have learnt, studied, and essentally all i feel and believe
i hope to make you pound, cry, laugh, and leave at the bits people skip;)
tune in or out, but the level i am currently at is playing some sweet music- so embrace, with grace,
create and meditate.
i am working on my my vipassana story as we speak so stayed tuned. those of you who dont know i just got back from a 10 day silent mediation course- yes the thought of me being quiet is hilerous but i did it and i learnt how important, how dangerous, and how abused words can be.
use you words with freedom and expression, but choose them wisely
.....random rainbows is the way to feel. expression after the rain- baby keep it real
x
blessings
this is my new blog. where i will be posting works in which i will be submitting for publications, and simply to share and entertain. i have offically been baptised a writer now so i hope be able to put into practice all i have learnt, studied, and essentally all i feel and believe
i hope to make you pound, cry, laugh, and leave at the bits people skip;)
tune in or out, but the level i am currently at is playing some sweet music- so embrace, with grace,
create and meditate.
i am working on my my vipassana story as we speak so stayed tuned. those of you who dont know i just got back from a 10 day silent mediation course- yes the thought of me being quiet is hilerous but i did it and i learnt how important, how dangerous, and how abused words can be.
use you words with freedom and expression, but choose them wisely
.....random rainbows is the way to feel. expression after the rain- baby keep it real
x
blessings
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