You hurt me, my friend

I think I know what gnaws at my heart
My friend - I  opened up a part
Of my soul, left closed for so long
Only for you to ask if I knew it was wrong

My friend -
You -
Who claim to be a defender of women
A counsellor of those in pain
I thought you'd react different
From all those others I told

You threw the guilt and shame I carried
Right back onto my burdened -
Anxiety ridden self - that little shadow
Of a scared little girl who still lives in fear

Unrelenting passive aggressive comments
Like a weight on my mind-
I am consumed once again by sadness
Over a battle I thought I had won

Rupununi tapestry for Chris and Fi

It was woven in Rupununi tapestry -
For worlds intertwined in history
To meet again -
Savannah heart and Scottish beat
Foreign lands for adventure seek
Carefree souls - Across distance found
Kindred spirits of a love thought
Could never be

They seemed like ying and yang
When he said 'gal i watch you lang'
Who could resist each others smile
Hearts that loved pure joy

He said she ah run he down
But watch who gone Sierra Leone
Bina catch he strong -
He end up in the motherland

Rupununi enchants and Scotland calls
The common spirits - for love of land
With an artists passion
A life of adventure fashioned

Why say no, when you can just go?
From just nows to coming deh
How we navigate and rate
And dem ones who always late


Those who stand with you today
Know your journey will never end
Wandering,  exploring souls
Like winding Rupununi and Scottish trails
We drink, we dance and we laugh with you this night.

Torn

Where does one end and the world begin?
Why do we stand apart and deny our hearts?

Can you not see threads woven through time?
Colourful and strong-

Can you not see that there is no beginning and no end?
Can you not see that we are one?
A tapestry woven through time-

Can you not see the histories intertwined?
Cultures mix, language change and tools exchange.

Can you not see what fear does to us?
Hacking at our tapestry-

Distorting the woven story-

Mirror image

She never wanted to be a reflection
A mirrored, painted copy of perfection

That tiny wrinkle and freckles on her face
She reveled in their mark.

That perfect life of calm, poise and beauty
Reminded her of calm sea with underlying fury

She chose that life like the thunder storm.
She rode it out with unbridled joy

She lived in quiet moments of raindrops
And glistening rays of sunshine

She smiled at the happiness of the world
She cried with the sadness of the world

She lived in any world -
And did not deny her inner beast

For she remembered -
Under the painted perfected reflection
Lay an unbridled fury

Water's might

Shadows dance on savannah land

As evening sun kiss

Tips of golden grass

Rupununi - my beauty

My love, of dark and light

savannah blends to jungle

Grass to swamp - to ponds

Creeks to rivers - to sea

I love you at your water's might

The beast of derision

I tie my self to history

Struggling to be free

My mind in a haze

Blurred from the smoke

The threads that tie me-

Have been set ablaze

Here I stand again

Always - an intersection

My heart becomes my chain

A pressured decision

Obscuring the inner vision

What does it mean to be free?

Colour me in as you will

Pick at the pieces that you see

Causing my soul to flee

Into the abyss of indecision

Where the beast of constant derision

Fights to pierce the things I hold dear

The ways and means

In moments - Inspiration comes -
Soundless - Dynamic.
And in laziness it passes-
in drunkeness, lost to the haze.
In moments- Life has meaning-
The depth is not identified
But in despair it is lost-
The mind, an abyss
In moments - Bursting love exists-
Showering - briefly like shooting stars
In betrayal-
it is squandered by greed
In the moments - we are rich
But what of it?
We lose the wealth of the land
We are poor in our souls-
For no true touch of those flashing moments -
Find those lost souls
In technology and progress-
Doesn't it seem?
That God takes back the knowledge-
Humanity stole?
In moments- we realize -
Beatniks were right/
Monster Manukind -
Progress is a comfortable disease