Tag: mind body spirit

Packages

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We go around

in neatly folded packages.

Work-shaped, mall-shaped, party-shaped.

Sufficiently malleable to fit into each slot.

Still wrapped when we get home.

(Often tightly).

 

Tightly taped and parent-shaped for the kids.

Ribbon-tied and bug eyed for the spouse.

Always gifted

But never unwrapped.

 

What if one string were slowly pulled from the top

To reveal what was inside?

‘No!’ we protest,

‘For that would destroy the package:

the multi-version of me that is my

identity’.

 

(The ‘i’ in identity

is with a little ‘i’

for the little eye

does not want to have

the inner view).

 

Pull the string.

Because what you really are

is both inside and outside

of the parcel anyway.

 

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018 

Tumbleweed

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Tumbleweed buries into her deepest consciousness

Strangling all sweet serenity with a sneering sadism

Penetrating all parts that were portals to the hearts of others

And infusing them with a melancholic madness

 

The vines coil round, constricting ideas and thoughts

Suffocating simmering suggestions of surrender

Savaging Humour as though it were a lamb

Gambolling carelessly into the path of a rabid beast

 

Tight tendrils of torment catalyse the once-calm sea into an ocean of chaotic craziness

Flagellating her with the ferocity of a fairy tale ogre……..

But this fairy tale does not have a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

Only the promise of disaster-zone desolation without the hope of a rescue package

 

When dawn comes she is left in shame

The Seduction shunning her like some two-a-penny lover

But she surrendered.

Not in the way that she foresaw.

Not in the way that she tried to control.

Not in the way that she expected.

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018 

Meeting in the Middle

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Dredged up from all the grime and grease

Reminders of a life at peace

The shadow falls; a spark appears

The two converge amongst the fears

 

No truth is more pronounced or bold

Than stories of a life untold

In patterns old and safe surrounds

All hidden from the vital sounds

 

For under soft and glowing heart

There dawns a new and hopeful start

A diamond on a pile of muck

That doesn’t need to now ‘unf**k’.

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018

Patterns

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Self-destructive patterns. They creep up on us like some familiar shadow, egging us on to find that security in the dark clutches of self denial, facilitating our swift escape from wholeness like some fly-by-night lover. They are a most eager companion when we are willing to leave our selves because to simply be in our bodies in the present is too painful or too lonely. So off we flit like a masochist on a mission – seeking this illusion here or that one there.

Drinking is the illusion of connection, providing fickle friends-for-the-night fading to fuzzy-headed memories in the morning’s returns.

Cigarettes waft their bosomly, billowy pillows of smoke, suggestive of solace and security.

Dating apps promise the escape in a big pink digital love bubble; a saccharin sop to a solitary singleton.

But by sure the best remedy is to go without and stay within. Realise that you’re at home being you, tucked away in your own sweet skin.

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018