Aeroplane in Toronto

Sitting in an aeroplane in the airport at Toronto, whatever it is properly called, and the guy next to me, ask me; 'Do you think the Leafs will make the Play-offs?' And I am wearing, unfortunately for me, a Canada Hockey shirt, and I have no idea what he is talking about, and I answer, ''Well, they've as good a chance as anyone.'

Increasing Spirit

Woke up this morning with my spirit depressed and then I asked myself 'why should my spirit be like this? And I determined to make things different, and increase my spirit, and the day has been good, seems like sometimes you have to fight the spirit that you wake up with in the morning, question and not accept it, and realise the power within.

Easter Time Again

Dark and grey and the bank is on the telephone, eyes think of tears, and meaning has reclined from the day, and then, waiting for that precise moment, where care meets with care and the abandonment of the anxious time, and looking within for changes, searching for betterment for within and without, outside of the dream of the sleeping day, and seeking to be at ease in the present moment, and the changes that it necessarily must bring, and losing the future and the past, or fusing them in a sane way with the moment, and it is Easter time and the heart and mind return to almost a century ago in the persecuted city, of the heroes of justice, giving their all for the future lives of generations to come, for no present reward. I give you Pearse and Connolly and Ceannt and Clarke and Plunkett and McDiarmuid and McDonagh, I don't feel the need to try to remember them at each Easter time, it is almost as if they remind me to remember them, and who I am and how lesser I am than them, and the brave men and women who followed them, let them never be forgotten nor their esteem lessened.

Love

And sometimes, there is no venture into words, they will not express, they are detached from truth, and then perhaps, they are inclined to lie, albeit in an innocent way, and then the reclining into silence, and the wealth of feeling it is invested with, I am sure that at the zenith, love doesn't crave for a wordy accompaniment, in its purest state, it has the strength to stand on its own, perhaps, it is a provocation, known best to itself, but yet, love must care for itself, it must accept itself, for outside of this, it would have to be a pretender, and love is too real to pretend. Love is at war, it is being subdued, it is being terrorised, there are ones in this world who care to assault it, they are ones with faces, just like the ones that you and I have, and love looks outside of itself, for mirror, be a mirror, let love seep into you, divorce yourself from selfish wants, and allow love its place, to be the master.

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.