My Roman Catholic Upbringing

I look around and back at all the places that I have been and visited, and I ask myself, 'whatever happened to my good Catholic upbringing?' Was it always to be just a challenge? Just a place to progress from, and a place that in fact was never really there in the first place?

Wildfire Eyes

Wildfire eyes, and the heat just keeps on heating, to be lateral, is just to cower, in a fear, in the world of togetherness, so there can be no question, can there?

St Patrick's Day 2014

St Patrick's Day is what is on my mind, an event and an occasion, open to anyone and everyone, regardless of creed or colour of skin or political persuasion, it is a celebration of humanity and its essential differences, and the things that make us special to each other, our beauty is in our difference, and that is where our wonder is too. St Patrick's Day is a celebration of our lives and nothing more, and nothing less.

Reclaiming the Spirit

So where does that spirit come from that makes you wish to reclaim your true spirit, away from drink and drugs, when their spirit has invaded your life?

Division

I understand, and then emotion tackles it, and then there is the battle between the two, and relationships are everywhere, and sometimes they argue and sometimes they slide together, but they never become as one. And I walked these city streets today, looking at the people that I will never know, and remembering the people that I have known, and that I do know. And I was wondering about whittling it all down to one person, and I thought of narrowness and decision and feeling. And the day proceeded and there I was sitting inside and gazing on the day, away from faces known and unknown, and the sun shining through my window in wintertime, and now emotion had gone to sleep, and peace had taken over, and it spoke to me, directed me, instructed me to love, this was the question that it had given to me, and now there was an answer to give.

Memories

Erstwhile memories, the obvious really, and the judges and the priests are infidels. and they all reside in this smoky room, they have come up to the present time, moment, and porn stars are seeking me, and I refuse them, telling them, that I don't need them, so far removed from love, when love is what I believe to be truth, and my heart and mind gain peace, perhaps in a smug way, but there is satisfaction nonetheless, and then I face the day, and the day faces me, and my innocent heart, my pure heart, is neither innocent nor pure, but true to itself, it needs no accompaniment, it is exact, and then in another page of another time, I see her, now invisible to me, and evasive as she almost always was, and I look into the eyes of the past and then I wonder,.

Truth

Patronising plaudits, and then she turns from me, to her reality, expecting me to consume them, be influenced by her throwaway ideas, devoid of truth, and I turn from her to a place of reality, in a moment of so long ago. Hurt remembers, and it wishes not for the accompaniment of anger, and I have heard the words of bitterness, and I have seen the words that I have written, and in the sobriety of my changing mind, they are distant from me. And then I wish to apologise for my being a misrepresentation of myself, and then within this, I seek personal change, that will align itself to my reason, to the truth of myself, or what I see, to be the truth of myself, and then I ask myself; 'who exactly am I?' And who exactly, do I want to chose to be? And why do I betray myself with giving illusions to the world? So then I have become as patronising to myself as those patronising plaudits have been, and perhaps, in retrospect, she showed me something that I was loath to see.

God

There is but one moment, it is a fusion of the present and the past, and ideas of the future, it is all in the personal view of the life, and no matter how much we want to think outside of ourselves, we are trapped in our own life, and this life is our opportunity for movement, so then there is personal expression and action, and then there is the competition of outside forces, and then when you don't succeed in your situation, you tend to turn inward and give blame to yourself, but you can only be a part of the blame, when there has been a meeting of different forces, and mainly, you can only sense your own point of view, and mainly you can only see and remember the combination of the ideas and the words and the actions of interaction, and so ultimately there would appear to be something missing, something not obvious, a higher power, strings being pulled, truth being withheld, and you can then believe in God, or you can then not believe in God, but whatever it is that you may believe in, there is something bigger then we are, in this act of life, and of living.

Ignorance

And in the midst of nighttime, silent words occur, there are negative reactions to art, and forgetfulness of early days, with one who needed to be guided, I guess that I was the shadow then, and that same shadow faded as it disappeared and left you, and in the midst of the daytime, you spoke those irrational words of innocence, but knowing somewhere inside of yourself, that you didn't understand, perhaps to reach your awareness, at another time, I am lateral to the anger, and my quest is for understanding, and I think perhaps, that we are all the same, either with simplicity of not knowing, and with the selfish idea of knowing, feeling has to be stronger than mind, and mind is vain and it deludes, but feeling is the closest thing to the body, and you express a feeling that is unquiet, that seeks to conquer, and I am not going to be able to quieten it, when there is such passion given to your feeling, I really don't want to say a word to you, I feel, that I wish you to feel understanding, and I feel that it will come to you eventually, when you open your heart to its feeling, you have rejected me and expressed your intent of freedom, with new born life in the picture, and I think that you even refuse the picture, but someday, it will assault you with its truth, it will not allow you to leave it alone, and it will question you, and then you will have find an answer for yourself, not for me, but for yourself.

Democracy

What is democracy? Is it when you vote people into government, and then discover, that they make decisions, opposed to the reason that you voted for them in the first place? So it is democratic to be able to vote, to make your choice, your decision, and then apparently they strike, with their selfish notions. Politicians are liars and fakes, and what they see as democracy, is no more than licence for them to behave as they wish. It is all the nature of humanity, and it is no different, from that time, when you or I, have given solace or comfort to someone else, only to betray them, by walking on a different path.

You and I

We are far into the night, the story has stretched beyond its apparently logical conclusion, perhaps it gazes at the Pagan moon, and perhaps a little further. And I am lost within myself, and in the images of outside of me, dreaming of things to come, and feeling that I have to muster the courage to look outside of myself, when doors have been slammed in the face of my anticipation, by those who didn't feel the connection, there is silence in my voice, and its eyes search for you, and you, I imagine are searching on the same search, and I guess, that we are both lost within our personal search. And the clock continues, as we walk different paths, looking for them to align, and I wonder who you are, and how you look, and about the sound of your voice, and what it is, that you feel, and what it is that you seek in me.