Love



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Love doesn’t come to a stern command
Love is not a slave

Love does its own will
Love has its own way

Love’s awareness
Is with you
When your heart softens to let it in

Love melts down
All the wrong in the world
Into basic elements
And rebuilds it good and new

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Fight the Night

Why do women bellow

Why do women fight

Is it men who are our enemy?

Must we battle them with might?

A world at war within itself

Rips itself apart

Are we really enemies?

Or is it something else, quite dark.

The darkness takes us over

Woman caves, Man succumbs

Shadows race to shroud us –

Reach out for the light!

fellow women, be sisters,

fellow men, our brothers.

Let’s Fight against the Night.

WILDERSOUL TINY LOGO gray-white 300dpi

Have you ever…

Have you ever been raped?
Have you ever seen murder?
Have you ever told?

Have you ever been hurt?
Have you ever been scared?
Have you ever cried?

Have you ever raped?
Have you ever killed?
Have you ever remained silent?

Have you ever kept a secret?
Have you ever told a lie?
Have you ever let the evil walk on by?

Have you ever been kissed?
Have you ever been loved?
Have you ever received a heartfelt hug?

Have you ever loved?
Have you ever cared?
Have you ever belonged?
And if so, where?

True blue

You were to me, a blaring horn
disguised as a baby pig
true blue

Your message connected, a closing fist
making contact with my brow
not high, not low

The world around cannot change you
true blue
The world around you cannot change

I hear you scream in rage
I hear your anguished pain
I hear and know your name
True Blue.

Alone

fifty carthorses, one broken mare
thirty indigo dresses, one midnight blue
twelve innocent smiles, one from you
alone, alone, alone

Early night

The door swings shut
moving in time
the rhythm knocks me off my feet
i am flying
a bird in the night sky
feeling desire
caught in a thermal
soaring
beyond
dreams
on wings
made of crystalline fancy
You walk in
after the fact
bloodstains
apparent
on the walls
of your imagination
as you laugh and pick me up
while the distant dove coos
an evening song

Progress, maybe.

Striding neck deep in Accounting software, advertising campaign calculations, stuffed giant courgettes, a crying cat, record label negotiations, electronic goods dissection and simple coloring picture production. I stop and feel the strong pull of the tide. It’s going out.

Writing a poem, a story, a game. Sharing a thought, sharing my shame. Cosmic existentialism carving time out of a cold stone statue. I turn against the tide and wade thickly toward the sparkling sand, where beauty awaits, shells in hand. Forest shades me from noon-day sun, as I laugh and dry off. It’s time for some fun.

~WilderSoul

Split

When I write after revealing a part of me which has remained unsaid for many years, it has an effect on my physiology.

When a stranger hugs me, for no reason, and there is alcohol deep in his soul, it knocks me off balance.

When sleep comes suddenly and unexpected, not quietly wading deeper until floating pleasantly in a warm sparkling sea, it drags me under in a rip to the inky blackness of the Mariana Trench.

When danger rises up to face my children, my soul awakens to stand guard.

When part-time income means full-time work, I split. Two of me, or maybe three, to get each job part done.

When what you need is not what you have, you have to create something new.

When will I ever learn, there is no need to tell this to you.

Music moves me to dance, and the dance brings you to life.

Freedom is in my blood as it whooshes up in a swing sky-high, breaking a budding smile into ecstatic grin.

Bring me to life. I want to live with you.

Time to open up and show what I got.

Time to bring it together, and write it all out.

Sing it to pieces.

Break it down.

Split.

Goodnight

Goodnight
Sleep tight
the room and light are just right
the stars shine
the moon glows, coolly silent
silvering the ripples
on the lake of imagination
that gently rocks me
to sleep

Goodnight to me
Goodnight to you

Aside

Tired, heavy
Sweating profusely
60, to 58, to 56kg
Mentally agile
Frequently sleeping.

Perhaps I am tired.
I will sleep once again.

It crosses my mind
that a big change
may be enfolding
me in its hot embrace
like that of a furnace
foundry melting pot
ready to come out tempered
ready to come out new.