Posts Tagged ‘identity’


Perceptions – Poem

December 13, 2013

What are eyes

but organs adjusted for light?

They see me

in one dimensions.

I see myself

with myriad thoughts and senses.

Together and against each other

we reflect

falling and floating in flux.

I feel like my toes

are inches from a ground

that ever recedes.

The world pushes in and out

all around me.

Invisible pressures press upon me.

Their great inhales and exhales

never touch

but warp none the less

sucking in this vacuum.

Life around me stretches and contracts

I can do naught but go along.

From the outside

how now must I look?

From the inside

how now have I changed?

I land on wobbly feet

vision hazy

ears ringing

all senses and thoughts


from the lengthen and shorten

until they relax, recede and settle.

Your eyes still see me

never the same as before.

I find myself

from this mere moment

ever different once more.






Isles Poetry Project – Underwater

October 2, 2013



Alone in the canteen fluorescence riding the bow of a white row of tables.

A pack of smokes sits like flotsam on them, Captain-less.

The chef emerges from the kitchen. He makes a bee-line for his booty and

once restored takes his plunder back to work.

I float again alone on the plastic blue chair. The fridge hums like a gentle tide

along with the thousand rustlings of distant palm leaves.

Not even the clock ticks but glides its hand around silently smooth

only the streak of an albatross high up in the firmament.

If I stare hard enough I could stop its flight. I breathe.

The breath leaves me and I dip into the underwater of the moment.

Creating silence and stillness. Starving for air but letting

the signals for oxygen drown along with everything else.

Feeling for my beating heart. Searching for my treasure.

At times like these I cannot feel my heart at all.




Night Awakening – Fantasy Poetry

September 16, 2013

Awoken by but a thought in the night.

A cool bath for his bed.

Stone work. Gilt rails. Animal rugs.

Fires can keep you warm

in a rock-hewn kingdom

but the cold is always an inch away.

The strike of the dark just needs

a breath on a candle.

There is something pulling.

From a forgotten dream.

He knows without admitting

it is her and she is out there

in the open and amongst the tall

sisters of the Earth.

Three pinnacles

brooding in the cold

bosom of the mountains.

Waiting for him.



Saturday Poetry Prompt Fragments

September 15, 2013

I had my little challenge I gave myself to write a few poems about the day and the happenings that was Saturday. I did pretty well writing about 6 poems in their rough and rugged state. I won’t put them all up now as it will take up a lot of space and they are sketches of final products, so I’ll put up some parts of three and hopefully together they will make a picture of my day, thoughts and activities.

Later on I will post up the complete poems individually and they’ll be added to my poetry project called ‘Isles’, which is a compilation of poems reflecting my experiences, thoughts, actions in Thailand.

Enjoy the fragments if only a fragment.

Peace and regards,




It’s a massive cliché to say

that a day brings new possibilities.

Though I’ll say it because it’s obvious;

Appropriate to any day and especially

this one. Justified beyond creativity.

Specifically defined for this moment.

The hours of waking and the eager

excitement of a new awakening.

Seize the day is another cliché

but I’ll grab it as intended

and just like the phrase says.


Centipedes curl in fighting on the ground.

Lizards awaking from their pathway slumbers

scatter into the brush. Butterflies

chase each other through the vines

with one thing on their minds.

A constant whir hidden close in the trees

singing the song of the tropical heat.


A peach sunset falls slowly over the bay.

The beach cools, the tourists shake their towels and stroll,

the shadows on the green hills darken.

I sway in my seat, sip my Singha, and mull.


Courage, Compassion, Connection: Thailand – 11th of August

September 12, 2013

I try to keep a sort of poetic journal of life – readings, locations, photographs, things, animals, general stuff that is going on.  I like reading a variety of books and usually read a few at the same time. Currently I am reading a book on science/botany, a couple of fantasy novels, and I just finished reading a self-help book called “Gifts of Imperfection” by Brene Brown. Here are some thoughts of mine inspired by hers I wrote a month ago.

“To practice courage, compassion, and connection is to look at life and everyone and thing in it and say, “I’m all in.” This may sound cheesy or like lines from a self-help book, but it is true, and dismissing it is easier than saying yes and then considering the largest question; ‘where to start?’ Because where can you start if you have been dwelling in shame all your life and reflecting distorted mirrors of yourself? You can’t live in the past, building a house on lists of apologies. And you can’t just change immediately and seem insincere.”

This may seem brief and incomplete and using the word ‘shame’ will bring up some negative connotations, but the word needs to be taken in the right way to understand it. For some people admitting to reading a ‘self help’ book may be a trigger for shame. However, most people will admit to working all day in depressing for job for something and someone that they do not like, but they would not set aside 30 minutes in a day to do something that is beneficial for themselves.

These are only brief thoughts from myself. I like self-help books because we can always find good advice and ways to become better people. I found this book by chance from another blogger’s (sorry, forget the name!) post. It is brief and has a lot of great personal stories and advice.

Peace and regards,



Isles and Ancient Poetry

September 4, 2013

I posted another poem, ‘Heart Shaped Map’ for my little poetry project titled ‘Isles’. My projects are just compilations of my better poems from where I am in space and time currently. This poem was inspired by a song from the Alaskan band 36 Crazyfists called ‘Destroy the Map’.

Ancient Poetry. I studied creative writing and Classical Greek and Roman history at university. One of my favourite ancient poets and personalities was the Roman writer, Catullus, from the 1st century B.C. around the time of Gaius Julius Caesar  He is often called the original love poet and was widely influential to other classical poets and is still today. His poetry is often explicit and he is brutally honest with his writings, often talking about love, hate, people stealing something from him, commentary about Romans of the time, and all manner of things. We have lost so many writings from these times, but by luck a good whack of Catullus’ work was saved. You will not regret having a look at him and may be quite surprised. I will post a couple of my favourites of his translated poems below and the link to the website where you may read some more. Enjoy.

These are not my favourite translations of these poems, but they are sufficient.

This first is a message sent to Catullus’s friend, Furius, who just needs a little more cash.

23. Poverty: to Furius

Furius, you who’ve neither slaves nor cash
nor beetles nor spiders nor fire,
truly have a father and step-mother,
whose teeth can chew like flints:
that’s fine for you, and your father
and your father’s wooden wife.
No wonder: since you’re all well,
good digestion, nothing to fear,
no flames, no weighty disasters,
no wicked deeds, no threat of poison,
no chance of further dangers.
And you’ve a body drier than bone
or whatever is most desiccated
by heat and cold and hunger.
Why wouldn’t you be well and happy?
You’ve no sweat, no phlegm,
or mucus, or evil cold in the head.
To this cleanliness add more cleanliness,
your arse is purer than a little salt-cellar,
and doesn’t crap ten times in a year:
and your shit’s harder than beans or pebbles.
So if you rub it and crush it between your fingers,
you can’t stain a single finger:
it all suits you so happily Furius,
don’t despise it, or consider it nothing,
and cease to beg for that hundred sestertia
you always ask for: sufficiency is riches.


This second one is a message from Catullus to his famous love interest, Lesbia. He hopes his friends Furius and Aurelius can send this charming little message to her.

11. Words against Lesbia: to Furius and Aurelius

Furius and Aurelius, you friends of Catullus,
whether he penetrates farthest India,
where the Eastern waves strike the shore
with deep resonance,
or among the Hyrcanians and supple Arabs,
or Sacians and Parthian bowmen,
or where the seven-mouthed Nile
colours the waters,
or whether he’ll climb the high Alps,
viewing great Caesar’s monuments,
the waters of Gallic Rhine,
and the furthest fierce Britons,
whatever the will of the heavens
brings, ready now for anything,
tell my girl this in a few
ill-omened words.
Let her live and be happy with her adulterers,
hold all three-hundred in her embrace,
truly love-less, wearing them all down
again and again: let her not look for
my love as before,
she whose crime destroyed it, like the last
flower of the field, touched once
by the passing plough.


I sourced these translations from this website below. Translated by A. S. Kline © 2001 All Rights Reserved




Heart Shaped Map

September 4, 2013

 I’ve trapped myself on another island

and no heart shaped map

lends me directions from its shores.

They all speak in tongues and tones and

I’m here to bend them to my own.

There are bays and beaches,

towns and tourists and two-faces at every turn.

Everything nearly non-decipherable.

A journey amidst

the untranslated. A paid holiday

to bemusement and the benighted.

Sunsets, scuba, set meals of the absurd.

An alien planet called paradise

at a premium price.

I find myself the most exotic one here.

If I don’t know how to feel

I cannot guess at what they must.

A novelty for a few months

for scheduled interactions and


Relationships constructed of

fixed questions and replies.

So just for conversation

I write this heart shaped map into a bottle

toss it to the waves

watch it roll right back

and see who wants to talk.


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