You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2013.

Only the sight of the sun
could bring a hive of activity like New York City
to a stand-still on a hot summer night,
only the sight of life’s glowing orb of power and influence
dancing on the surface of the horizon of the rooftops of Manhattan
could make everyone look West at the sunset in silence and awe
at the reality-shattering sight.

The traffic down 42nd street stops,
people get out of their cars and momentarily abandon them
so that they can witness with their own eyes a perfect moment:
seeing the sun so bright, bold, and beautiful takes your breath away
and lifts up your soul as high as a sky-scraper,
seeing and sharing such an experience
in perfect synchronicity with the rest of the universe
is a life-redefining event.

The buildings form one structure, and act like an endless tunnel.
At the end of this man-made construction,
the sun’s magnificent light is reflected off every window,
and its silent gift is seeded to every observer
near, in person, far-away, or through sharing the experience
somehow in some way, and makes us all feel humble.

There are things in this world that we can’t control,
but which fill us with hope and bliss;
there are moments in time that can’t be described,
nor reciprocated, in detail, as well as we would wish-
one of those experiences, one of those moments,
must be being there to see ‘The Manhattan Solstice’.

There is a man who lives in a house on the hill,
there is a man who looks over on the village of his birth,
who comes down from his home from time to time
to be among other people, to buy a news paper,
and sometimes just to pay a bill.
People say that the man is a mystery,
people say that the man is a ghost,
people say that he lives on his own
because he is suffering from a broken heart that never mended,
people say that he doesn’t have an address-
no house name, no house number, no street name-
so you can’t contact him by post.

The man on the hill doesn’t have a name,
at least not one that is widely known,
the man on the hill can’t remember the last time
someone actually called him by his birth name-
he never says a word to anyone anymore,
no one even realizes that he is there.
People stopped ringing him years ago-
one day he decided that he had no need to be in contact with anyone,
so he disconnected his phone.

The man on the hill can be seen in the flesh,
if you are ever in the centre of England,
if you are ever in a park in Coventry
and you see a man sitting alone on a bench reading a book-
if you take the time to approach the man, to introduce yourself,
and to tell him that you’ve heard all about him,
he might raise his head, he might smile back at you,
but in his eyes you will see a very sad look.

The man on the hill walks everywhere.
The man on the hill goes out in the morning
and comes home at night,
full of new thoughts, old memories-
always seen in the same clothes, with the same haircut,
as if he has nothing else to wear.

The man on the hill used to know everyone,
and everyone used to know him-
beyond the legend that surrounds him,
beyond the shadow that he carries along with him.
The man on the hill’s story is a long, tragic, and sad tale-
a journey that came to a grinding halt one summer afternoon, long ago,
but where the man on the hill came from,
and how ended up becoming the man on the hill,
is complicated to explain, and even he would find it hard
knowing where to begin.

There is a man who lives on a hill
who once made a difference;
there is a man who lives on a hill
who thought he had the entire universe figured out,
until something happened to him that changed him forever-
and now the universe, to him, just doesn’t make any sense.

There is a man who lives on a hill,
who is waiting for the right person to come back into his life;
there is a man who lives on a hill,
who wants to simply remember what it is like to be alive.
There is a man who lives in a house, by himself,
who if you knocked on his door he would shower you with goodwill;
there is a man who just wants to be remembered,
who wants to dies happy again-
that man is the man on the hill.

The Earth cannot stop turning,
the world will never end,
the life-spark of the Sun will never stop burning,
the revolution and the evolution of everything
shows and hides the truth about what makes the universe what it is-
what we have done cannot be put back to how it was,
we can’t forgive all the actions that have been commited,
but we can make amends.

To cure violence we need peace.
To purify our hearts and minds we need love and understanding.
To move forward we need to talk to each-other more,
we need to feel at ease.
To build a greater foundation for the children of tomorrow,
we need to keep improving, we need to share more about ourselves
and what makes us who we are;
we need to make, create, and do things for all, and not just for some;
we need to commit to this contract of living that we have with this world;
we need to teach our children what is right and what is wrong;
we need to continue to find others who want what we want;
we need to champion those who are truly outstanding.

No one is born perfect.
Some people need more help than others.
No one has the right to take a life-
we have to honour every mind, heart, and experience,
and show them respect.
People don’t always get along,
but they can still be your friend, your partner,
your sister, your brother-
everyone is born into darkness,
but as they grow so does their need to want to leave an indelible mark
on the world they find themselves in,
and eventually thrive more so by simply being in the light.

Happiness. Peace of mind. Freedom.
Every species, every individual,
every person who has ever lived in both the light and the shadows
knows what it means to be happy, to be at peace, to be free,
but they are never satisfied with only them
possessing this amazing knowledge-
they feel like they have to tell everyone.

Life should be a party,
the world should be our venue.
All around us, every day, there is joy, inspiration, energy,
colours of every intensity and hue.

We have all been given an amazing gift,
make the most of it every second.
Do what feels right in the moment.
Don’t just simply take what you need.
Give back to the world.

We are born only once,
but in our lives we are capable of infinite restarts,
resets, and rebirths-
every day you can begin again, wipe the slate clean,
and live on a brand new version of Earth.

Life is a state of mind.
Feelings can change.
Too much light can send you blind.
Emotions have a range.

No one can know the future
until it becomes the present.
The past is an empty room once you have left it
and removed its contents.

A heart can never be broken,
it can only be scarred.
A mind can always be open,
but you can sometimes take its thoughts too far.

We tell ourselves that we will learn from our mistakes,
but we never listen.
We give others our words of wisdom,
but when the time comes for us to practice what we preach
our mind goes dark like an eclipsed sun.

Love is not enough.
Fate cannot be fought.
You can’t call the universe’s bluff.
A true gift cannot be bought.

Knowledge means nothing if it is not passed on.
Ideas are like captured lightning-
you have to harness there power
before there flash is gone.

You can’t run forever.
There comes a time when you have to clean up your own mess.
You can hide from yourself if you want,
but that plan isn’t clever.
Stand tall at the end and you will be timeless.

It’s so easy to talk to you.
I feel like I can say anything.
Since I first met you
I have had this feeling when you look at me
that you know and understand me.
It is as if we two are kindred spirits-
meant to meet, to become friends,
meant to come through all that we have been through in our lives,
meant to share the same aspirations, dreams,
optimism, and point of view,
meant to teach and to learn from one another,
and to enjoy all the gifts of insight
that our shared connection continues to bring.

I have learned more from you,
and I have learned more about myself from you,
in the short-time that I have known you
than I have learned from people that I have known for years.
You have been a breath of fresh air for me,
so much so that I look forward to the next time
that I talk to you with great anticipation.
You and I know each other so well,
even when we are not talking,
it’s like we have our own telepathy.
I believe that the chances of us meeting
at any other time but right now
are so astronomically out of the realms of possibility
that the reason that we get on so well, so quickly,
can only come down to one thing: destiny.

The summer truly began for me when you walked into my life.
Within the first five minutes of knowing you
I felt that the more we spoke the more inspiration,
strength, self-confidence, tranquility, hopefulness,
I derived.

You can’t force compatibility.
You can’t forge a friendship without mutual trust.
You can’t fake true authenticity.
You can’t forget someone who is as great a person as you are in a hurry,
nor do I want to contemplate a time
when you are no longer there for me to talk to-
when that time does eventually come to pass,
I must admit that I am going to find it hard to adjust.

I hope that you are reading this.
I hope that you and I, however near or far away in the future,
will always remember the season and the times that we spent together.
I hope that for both of us the events of our lives thus far
will one day be eclipsed by that which lies ahead.
I hope that we will always share a connection of spirit-
one shared by people who give meaning to each-others lives,
and who forever will be kindred.

You can’t believe how much the sun makes people smile
when it is glowing high in the sky,
until you see the genuine expression of joy
on a thousand faces in close proximity.
You can’t believe how good and great the sun can make you feel,
until you are standing under a cloudless sky,
in a park, in a vast green field in the countryside,
or in your own freshly-mown and glorious-looking garden,
on a sunny day at the peak of British Summer Time,
looking up at the vapor-trails of a passenger jet passing above-
whose passengers within minutes will go beyond having land below them,
and instead will have the gift of seeing the sight
of a sparkling beautiful blue sea.

I follow a path of fallen white feathers on the ground.
I trace the flight of two white butterflies dancing through the air.
I walk for miles, I walk for hours-
soaking up the sunlight that touches me,
and taking in every detail of everything that I see.
Everyone wants to be out there.
Everyone wants to make the most of the wonderful warmth,
the terrific light, the chance to do what they have been planning to do
for a long time.
I wanted to spread my wings;
I wanted to be a catalyst;
I wanted to be a silent bell
that only those who were able to listen properly
could hear my chime.
I wanted to think;
I wanted to feel;
I wanted to forge a brand new link;
I wanted to do something I have never done-
like take a ride on a Ferris wheel.

I love this time of the year.
I love the scent of blossoming flowers.
I love the smell of a barbecue.
I love looking out at the ocean while standing at the end of a pier.
I love standing by a river near a waterfall, or a bubbling brook-
hearing it, and feeling enchanted by it,
as if it had some special rejuvenating powers.
I love the overload of all my senses that I feel
when something is brand new.

The instant that the sun touched the crown of my head this morning,
I immediately felt a jolt of electricity surge down my spine.
As soon as I took my first step into the bustling
and exciting world that was awaiting me,
I knew that this would be a phase in my life that I would always remember-
the height of British Summer Time.

What brightens your day when the sun isn’t shining?
Who makes you smile when they enter a room?
What lights up the night when clouds cover a full-moon?
Who holds your hand when you can’t stop yourself from crying?

It amazes me what some people remember in great detail, others forget-
like a cloud that passes over-head in the sky,
some people can rain down their own fears and insecurities
on people they don’t know,
and then move on without regret.

When we were children a hot, bright, and beautiful, summer’s day
felt like a life-time;
when we were children our innocence and our purity of spirit
allowed us to go wherever we wanted,
and to follow without question wherever our imagination took us;
when we were children we knew there was more to see
and to be found if we looked hard enough and if we climbed;
when we were children we didn’t carry around anything on our mind,
or our shoulders- in fact, we carried our heart on our sleeves
most of the time, when making friends and getting to know
other kids on the school bus.

Getting to know a new person and introducing them to your friends
is amazing to me;
learning that you share the same taste in art, music, films,
books, food, is thrilling and incredible-
that moment when you realize you are not alone,
and the joy that you get from something is not only mutual,
but also universal, as well-
that is epic, that is a true thing of beauty.

Something that makes you think is never a bad thing,
something that makes you feel something-
even if it is not what you think it is-
is always worthy of a song, or a poem, or a story, or a video
for others to listen to, read, or watch-
it shows that you are interesting.

There is something intimate about watching someone
bare the story of their life to a crowded room,
not really talking to anyone in particular,
or having anyone in mind,
but having something to say-
not everyone has this gift to be able to delight, inspire,
captivate, and enthrall,
not everyone has the belief in what they have to say,
or in themselves, not everyone has the nerve;
but when people listen, truly listen, take-in,
and are transformed by what they have heard,
it is like watching a seemingly insurmountable wall fall.

What we are all capable of in our short lives is phenomenal,
it is unknown, it is only limited by how much we dream,
by how passionate we are about what drives us,
by confining ourselves in the cell of time.
No one needs permission to make a masterpiece,
they just need to open their sole
and watch their light shine.

Photobucket

Archives

Twitter Updates

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Poetographic

%d bloggers like this: