Months have past and not a Single letter. As I ramage through my old bag of clothes seeing if I can find that old war medallion. I think to myself ” fuck It has to be worth something if only I could find it”.
As I’m looking for this darn thing I reach for my pack of smokes. Bottle of whisky next to me on the table. Long gone are those days of battle yet they still remain freshly pressed as a news paper with illustrations that will blow your mind away.
Everyday I wonder about her. Like a painting of mMichalangelos Mona Lisa she is painted on the walls of my mind, in a big mural with the words ” where the fuck are you ” Tatooed into the wooden frame.
I’m an old sod now, who doesn’t give a shit about who, what and where but the only thing that brings a smile to this old dried up cardboard face is my Mona Lisa.You see a long time ago I new what love was or even felt like.
My Mona could do that to a person. She had a charm about her, a gentle touch. Some even called her mother Teresa, as she was so kind And gracious and took care of her own.
My mind keeps switching back and forth, back and forth from days of past to this very present moment.
I can feel her near me, her breath, her whisper. Yes, I am still waiting for that fucking letter.
When I started writing I didn’t know what I would do with it or how I would use it but it has been a tool for me to get to know the real me, It has been a main contributor to my growth and development. It has helped me in my times of need and in my times of joy.
I have been able to withstand a lot of things because of my writing. I have been able to comfort myself and to sooth myself. To celebrate myself and to reinvent myself. I have chosen to write because writing has helped me to express my feelings and thoughts which in the past were very difficult for me.
Writing helps me stay truthful. My style of writing I would say is very honest and sacred. Sacred as in that my writing comes from or better yet is inspired from my heart and to me my heart is very sacred.
To be truthful one first has to come to a place of truth. In our search for truth one stumbles upon a key. A key to our hearts. The heart is a place of inspiration and truthfulness. He who has come to shower and bath in the heart first has to look in the mirror before turning the tap on so to speak. What I speak of and write about is spiritual in essence. Its a path that many want to follow but a path that many want to evade. In life there are two types of people. The one who faces and the one that turns.
“The man that faces conquers all. The man that turns he too shall conquer but conquer himself. The man that turns in has the sword of truth. The man that faces, well he is out to prove himself. He conquers all except himself. The one that turns has developed true inner strength. The one that turns all the planets”.
You could say that my writings are mystical in essence and that my poetry carries a certain energy to it. An energy that opens hearts but my writings are inspired. I am merely the medium for divine expression. I don’t write the words on this page but the words write themselves. The heart is the medium, the heart is the channel.
Sharing is the gift that I give to you and in giving I receive. Its an offering. I’m offering you my heart, to share and to inspire. The heart is the gold piece that brings a smile to a persons face. I tend to write sometimes like I’m from another century but those are the words my heart chooses to use.
To the heart one sings a song, a sonnet, a pleasurable sound that has no limit.
Touches the depth of ones own ocean, where the elementals rest.
Lurking in the grounds of shade the devil wears Prada but no where to hide.
Along the mighty rivers one wears the scars, listening to every quake,
Hearing the wise words of old,
Where planets rotate to the sound of OM.
Silence but not a creature in sight.
Glances looking with eyes wide open.
measuring ones own success, striving, gaining,
Where is this road taking, me, you, us.
The dust settles, engines on. Hail to those new sons.
Always the beginner,
Never the adept.
Listen to the tales of old, listen how they speak to all.
Listen to the heart of truth, listen to the voice in you.
Speak so gently let it drop speak,so gently till it stops
Bring the ear ever so closer, bring it till it rests on her shoulder.
Let yourself now be told, the future looks so great and bold.
Beneath you lies the sword of truth, that speaks to you of eternal youth.
Dreaming of a place so quaint, sleeping in a place so faint.
Never in a million years, have you been told to shed a million tears.
A place where rain can heal the heart, a place where pain can feel a part.
A place where all desires merge, into the one that faces and beats the urge.
The one that honours every step, the one that burns with every breath.
The one that dreams a thousand dreams, the one that stands on golden leaves.
The one that is as light as a feather, the sacred heart, to thy love I surrender.
Through the eyes of our soul there is a truth to be told.
A truth that burns like no other, a truth that yearns like no other.
Through our eyes there is a presence, a presence that never ends,
a presence that always stays and doesn’t leave.
Why do we hold on to these words of ours, the truth is that there is no ours.
We are all here to embark on a journey of the soul, that leaves no one in the dark.
They ask the question time to time, who is above the heavens so high,
all up there we seem to wonder, while times have gone all through the yonder.
Seeking, seeking yee shall find the truth be told that is a lie,
turn around and come back again, the soul Is here, here to stay.
We are the ones who travel so far, the soul stays home not up in the star.
The soul is here the words are clear for you in life there is nothing to fear.
The fear is far away from home the soul is here for ever bold.
Through the eyes of the master I see, and now that light shines bright in me,
Gone are the days of worry. Gone are the months of pain. Gone are the winds of the past. Gone are the the sounds of the the rain. Fire in for ever your heart, the spark that shines all through the dark, mesmerising in every way, standing solid in oneself, every day. Pouring out the love we have, to nurture parts that need our hand, a gentle touch to seal the pain to heal the wounds, to feel again. Gone are the days for ever more,gone are the ways of gray and old, gone are the feelings that linger in our hearts, that tear us to shreds that keep us apart, now with you for ever more I’ve come again, knocking at your your door. The threshold of no return, only my Desiree that longs that burns. Gone are the days, months and years, gone are the days of cries and tears, gone are those days for ever more I came to you, once again, once more.