Harry Is A Poet: Recent Episodes
Harry Mason
You frown, you're down.
They wear your crown.
Not beaten, no defeating
Time to get even...
We are strong and we are smart
This is how a comeback starts
Play with grit and play with heart
This is how a comeback starts
We will not lay down and die
We are strong I tell no lie
Let us yell and let us cry
We will win, here here is why
We are strong and we are smart
This is how a comeback starts
Play with grit and play with heart
This is how a comeback starts
We will make them run with fear
We will make them run from here
Watch them quake as we come near
When we play well we have no peer
We are strong and we are smart
This is how a comeback starts
Play with grit and play with heart
This is how a comeback starts
Victory is in our sights
Only if we play with might
We win in day we win in night
Go from here and cause them fright
We are strong and we are smart
This is how a comeback starts
Play with grit and play with heart
This is how a comeback starts
We are strong and we are smart
This is how a comeback starts
Play with grit and play with heart
This is how a comeback starts
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/08/how-comeback-starts.html
Not everything in life is in your hands.
Anything can upset the best laid plans.
It sucks. I can say nothing more.
When life pushes you through a certain door.
For most of life, you feel in control.
That you can decide if you reach your goal.
The only thing standing in the way is us.
As long as we work hard it'll be no fuss.
And then, it breaks. The illusion fades.
Effort matters, but it's just an aid.
Nothing can stand against the mechanism of life.
Not strength nor sadness, not calm nor strife.
It can be devastating, to the utmost degree.
It hurts. But that there is reality.
So, what next, dear fellow and friend.
Do we just accept life, and make that the end?
Rise. Rise together, or rise alone.
But rise to meet the fate you've been thrown.
Life will have its way. It will make it's choice.
But so must you. Now find your voice.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/08/fate.html
It's how it all started.
The voices.
In the twilight hour, they whispered.
We heard them at the crossing.
Through a veil.
They gave advice we needed to hear at the time.
The advice was often simple.
Always sincere.
Time to wake up. Talk to her. Remember to breath.
They guided us in a way.
We thought forwards.
And not every step on the road is hard.
Until it becomes hard.
That step.
The voices wavered, as they always did.
A life with twilight speech
The whispers.
They don't take kindly to being ignored.
The world expects much.
But not them.
And never the people they drive.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/07/whispers.html
Everyone wants to feel, in some way, like their thoughts matter
They want to be pitched ideas as a worthy batter
What I didn't want, what I never wanted, was this
To decide whether to cast a man's soul to the abyss
I was selected for jury, and drawn to do duty
The desire to do my responsibility flew through me
I was chosen as an equal, and now within my hands
I hold the soul of a most guilty man
I've no doubt that he did it. His victims' blood runs clear
The most open and shut case they've seen this year
The rest looked at me, shocked as I hesitate
In delivering the verdict to the official of state
You see the death penalty is still a reality to me
Part of the law of the land of the home of the free
Yes this man is bad. Yes he took a man's life
And I tell myself it's different, because I don't hold the knife.
That he looked in their eyes and knew what he did
That his victim had a wife. The victim had a kid
I try to make this repulsion to the man on the stand
Give the verdict that's needed as I clench my hand
I would like to claim, as in so many cases
That the circumstances form an uncertain basis
On which to lay enough grounds to burst out and shout
"Your honour, I claim to have reasonable doubt"
I don't have such a backbone on which to rest
Instead I face a very different test
To court holds its breath, in this theatre of the absurd
Simply to cause the death of a man, by saying a word
I've waited long enough. Caused enough anguish to all.
The state is waiting for me to make my call.
As head juror. As citizen. As someone far from perfect.
I clear my throat, and I give my verdict.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-verdict.html
It's time.
Oh it would have been so easy.
You could have stayed still.
But no.
You, oh noble beast. You live for a thrill.
And so it begins. Slowly. The count.
You inhale. Ten.
This is it. What everything has led to.
The thing that has filled your dreams so often.
Nine. You shudder. Every last muscle.
You anticipate.
Even in this step into the unknown.
This step into fate. Eight.
You will now be propelled through time.
You will experience heaven.
This World is now to small.
It is your fence. Seven.
Six. You can feel your heart.
You can feel fully alive.
Now is the moment.
Now is the moment. Five.
Some would ask why?
What is this? Four.
You simply respond.
So I can be Three.
This moment is all.
All I ever want Two.
Before me is every wall.
I will burst through.
They doubted me.
With good reason.
It was impossible.
It still is. One.
Ladies and gentleman.
We have lift off.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-launch.html
Dear everyone disheartened by this: please don't be.
Now, more than ever, we need to have courage.
Now, more than ever, we need to have strength.
For so long, we have simply resorted to fear to make our case.
Fear of the man next door, fear of the unknown.
And believe it or not, this makes people scared.
So now, as we face the unknown, we can not be frightened.
One decision is made. But other than that, everything is on the table.
The road ahead need not be that which we assume.
So, to those who voted for the first time, thank you.
Britain came out in such great force yesterday
So we need you to not be scared. To not be disillusioned. To vote again.
It is the job of those in politics to make this new message hopeful.
That we are not just a community of an island, but of a world.
To inspire the next generation into a country they want to fight for.
What has happened in the past is unchangeable.
What happens next is up to us.
So please, be strong. We need you.***
Written 8 years ago, the morning after the results came in.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/07/on-brexit.html
This poem is lovingly dedicated to my Grandma
She has been around 90 years on this World so far
Brought happiness and joy to many a different face
She takes life and it's challenges with a loving embrace
Because in 1926, the same year as Winnie the Pooh
My Grandma was born all fresh and new
Young and full of promise, so fittingly
They named her simply Rosemary
And like rosemary, she works best with others
As a mentor, as a neighbour, as a partner and lover
She never sees a person as better or worse
Just a future friend with which to converse
I feel lucky, even though I arrived so late
I've spent 23 years with her on Earth to date
That after so much time since that birth year
Both she and I share this world right here
If I start to worry about what the future might bring
I remember, in 1926, we still had an empire and a king
We've been through much turmoil change, it needs not be named
Just that through it all my dear Grandma remained
Whatever challenges life decides to throw my way
Blood flowing in her veins flows in mine today
So I have the power and the passion to persevere
Thanks to those strengths passed on from my Grandma right here
I just want her to know, how grateful I always will be
For the patience growing up she never failed to show me
For the love, and the light, let me just say
Grandma, have a very happy birthday.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/90-years.html
Who am I? Who are you?
What are we? What shall we do?
We've woken up a thousand times, emerged from slumber
Sometimes we wake up smarter, sometimes dumber
But normally, well, how to put this politely?
Day by day we change ever so slightly
We are constantly changing, such is our nature
Sometime change is small, sometimes an adventure
But why? Why do we change, and why does it matter?
It's important because without it, life would be flatter
There would be fewer bumps, and far less noise
Eternally living as girls and boys
But there's another thing to find far more interesting
Which gives a conscience far more testing
Some people in life have pride and certainty
In their current state and personality
But honestly? We'll be different tomorrow
Different things will cause laughter and sorrow
In areas of life we'd never even considered
New experiences packed up and delivered
We'd tackle new problems in very different ways
If we were older or younger by just a few days
So what I'm wondering, with confusion but no rage
What does it mean to 'be yourself', in this day and age?***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/identity.html
"I was a lot more comfortable being vulnerable and open
When I was younger, and it wasn't clear if I was or wasn't joking..." - Sage Francis
It can be a struggle. To be open and honest.
So despite the evidence, I'll say that I'm for this.
When I say despite the evidence, I mean that sincerely,
Because I know for a fact that sincerity fears me.
I, like many others of my generation and age
Will stick to some conventions like tears to a rage
Although we're trying to shake them off, they just wont leave
Symptomatic of the very sickness from which we seek reprieve
Although we all have our little self-depreciation lines
Then shake them off jokingly, say that it's fine
Before we can notice, while enjoying the effect
It's turned into the knock-me-down stand-up set
But it's never serious, oh don't be silly
It's just a joke, and man these jokes kill me
Little by little, eating away at our pride
Until the jokes are as hollow as we feel inside
For me, these little jokes that I used to invent
Were the only times I'd ever get a compliment
So I'd repeat my own humiliation, as it carved the way
For the fact I still feel awkward getting complimented today
Please, if you are struggling, make me aware.
And tell me sincerely, so that I can show care
Be happy when you're happy, don't force a fake smile
Leaving people wondering what you're feeling all the while
No matter who you are, what gender, what age
Please pay attention to those words from a Sage***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/sage-advice.html
Immortality in a Can
Immortality in a Can
Grab it while you can
Immortality in a Can
You know what they say:
Once you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
Man, I just took this deal, and I feel great
Just popped now fate awaits my infinity sell by date
To satiate my thirst
I never have to deal with the worst
I get live forever as the eternal man
And I owe it all to Immortality in a Can
Once you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
Ten years on and I'm still feeling strongSince then I've taken life head onI'm still feeling great, my body is spryI have a love of life my friends can't denyI could do this forever, or that's the planAnd I owe it all to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Twenty years past and I'm still goingEven though my friends' age is showingI've no wrinkles, either in skin or lifeI've settled down with a trophy wifeShe's got a bump, on the way a little manAnd I owe it all to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Fifty years on, and I admit it's been strangeI've experienced a lot of life's odd rangeThere's been ups and downs, now my kid is grownMy wife's gone on too, so I'm left aloneI'm still fine though, and I'm still a fanAnd all I owe to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...One hundred years on, I just buried my sonI've attended a thousand funerals if I've attended oneI'm stuck on this world, the Earth has movedI'm a relic now, I'm out of my grooveI'm viewed as an ignorant, out-of-touch manAll thanks, once again, to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...One thousand years on, yes I'm still hereI've tried to find purpose, I've tried to disappearIt's tough now though, to go off the gridI'm known worldwide for what I once didA morality lesson you learn as soon as you canFor that indulgence of Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Ten thousand years on and the world is goneIt's barren, we did well to last so longMillion year gone and it's still the sameMany million years gone and it's still the sameI lost count long ago, just as I lost any planYet still I go on, Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
I'm not saying I didn't experience things of worth
I experienced much death, but also birth
But those golden moments, they weren't worth the trade
Nothing good happened to those death betrayed
And I know death is scary, but to be the eternal man?
Forever is a long long time. So would you take Immortality in a Can?***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/immortality-in-can.html
Pay attention. Listen up.
I'm going to try to explain something difficult.
Democracy.
No, wait! Don't go. I swear, I'll try to make it quick.
See, Democracy, to me, is still radical.
And I don't mean radical like skateboards,
I don't mean radical like Guitar Hero.
I mean radical like revolutions are radical.
Because the idea that every single person has a valid opinion
And the following conclusion, that we have to listen to those opinions
That the collective will of every Jack, Tom and Harry, of every Jill, Beth, and Hannah
That all of us deserve a say in how our country is run.
That, to me, is radical.
Do you ever stop to think how unpopular that idea was to the ruling classes?
Nowadays, we have made democracy dull.
We have sanitised it beyond belief, made it boring.
It is carried out with pencils and paper in churches and schools.
Usually on a Thursday.
Please, don't be fooled.
Instead, please join me.
Because, I subscribe to this radical notion of democracy.
The idea that everyone's opinions matter is one I hold dear,
And yes, that includes you. That certainly and always includes you.
Just as you wouldn't let someone else take away your voice,
Please don't let apathy, or perceived insignificance steal it either.
For you are significant. For your voice matters.
But only if you let it.
What your voice says? That's up to you.
Sometime when the world deals a blow and has dazed us
It's good to think back to the parents who raised us
Your mothers gave birth, as mothers have to do
She went through great pain just to give birth to you
Then growing up, they dealt with all your palaver
Not just sibling fights, or having the floor be lava
Those times when you were small, so tender and weak
When you were born you were so fragile and meek
Though they must have been scared, they still stayed and tried
Every parent has that scare when they think their child has died
Just a little too cold when the child wakes up in the morning
Or when everything suddenly goes quiet with no warning
They've cared for you as they cared for their spouse
Once they left you on your own for the first time in the house
And, still remembering the first time you went to A&E
Still allowed you to become little by little more free
So just remember, given what your parents went through
That the only reason they did any of that, was for you
From before you were breathing, right up to now
So if your a parent, take a well deserved bow***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/parents.html
If you're having a bad day, this a message for you
Written on a letter, sealed with love and glue
For you to open, whenever it's a struggle to get through
This bad day is one we're both gonna beat black and blue
...
...
Dear friend in the wilderness. Dear voice in the mist
Sometimes it seems like our fate has been kissed
Days when we're not tired and sick, days when all will go well
This is dedicated to those days when you go through hell
Here's a fact. You've been through plenty of struggles in your life thus far
These struggles don't make us stronger or weaker. They make us who we are
I can say for sure, when this day is finally through
You're going to emerge as a different you
Let me say something else, no matter what challenge you face
We all have reasons to be setback in the human race
The reason can be clear, something we can see touch and feel
Other times it's not. Rest assured that this battle's still real
When all is done and the dust can finally settle
Please appreciate the toughness and strength of your mettle
It's the challenges of life that make it great
It's often struggles that make us remember the date
You're someone who has woken up, and somehow always found a way
To have a 100% hit-rate of surviving each day
Then just consider this related fact to be so true
That no bad day of yet has ever survived you***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/a-bad-day.html
She had that beauty which came from getting up an hour earlier than the sun
And staring endlessly into the mirror willing herself through the next day
Even with a sense of anxious pride about who she was and what she'd done
There was only one small part of her that had never wished this life away
No, it was not those startling clear blue eyes, clouded windows to a troubled soul
Nor was it those carefully shaved legs which had walked through a thousand dreams
It was the voice inside that let her know this was her life, this was her goal
She'd deserved the adoration, and every one of her fans' desperate screams
Finally, the world was proclaiming her The Star she'd always wished in her heart
She'd been raised up high for the world to see and adore entirely
She'd never have to worry about loneliness, or the price of her shopping cart
She could shape this reality to however she wished it to be
Taking a deep breath, she made the voice inside slowly silence, then subside
Knowing that overconfidence was a strong bug by which to be bitten
She'd taken a step, when the first embers of her fame had been realised
She got out the well-worn, tear-stained letter she'd written
"Dear Star, for that's who I know you'll be and what you are
Please remember, when life is going far too much your way
That's not just who you are. You're more than a superstar
No matter how fantastic, no matter how glamourous the day
You are me, the girl sat here full of dreams and wishes
You were the daughter of parents who gave you their all
Though you may one day be served as one of high society's great dishes
Please remember that both gravity and pride can make stars fall
It is not wrong to be liked. It is not wrong for effort to meet reward
Just remember that whatever else, you are still you. Signed lovingly, you!"
She'd taken these words with as much care as she could afford
After all, she was The Star, and it was all she could ever do.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-famous-girl.html
Sometimes I like to say
Let's go wild and adventure
So lets go to our baser nature
And be animalistic in how we play
YetI don't wanna be a jellyfish
'cause without needing to wish
you can already see right through me
I don't wanna be a zebra neither
'cause I don't need ya
to spend that much time crossing me
I don't wanna be a lion
I'm not lyin'
I don't wanna have that much pride
I don't wanna be an armadillo
Couldn't be your pillow
I just wanna be right there by your side
I don't wanna be a bat
Or a rat or a cat
Or anything else in fact than what you see
I don't wanna be a tortoise
Or a porpoise
Or anything other than you and me
I don't wanna defend
The fact I wanna to spend
Every second at your beck and call
In the end,
Let's not pretend
We're anything but animals after all***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/were-animals.html
It's funny, I still see the same things
I still know red is not blue
The morning bluebirds still sing
And yet, somehow, it's twisted
While still being old, not new
As if my brain itself has misted
I can still chat and converse
With a throat that's dry
As I pretend the reverse
Its a flaw so clear, yet so weird
That the world through my eyes
Could be so easily smeared***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/fever.html
I'm sorry, can you please repeat for me
I swear that I was paying attention
The fact is I was temporarily
Thinking up a brand new life invention
It would be small, light and easy to hold
Be cheap enough every person could buy
Work in high temperatures and in the cold
Keep working until the day that you die
So it's robust and tough and versatile
Now I hear you ask "what does it do?"
I was on the verge of that insight while
I was distracted by listening to you
So, again, could you repeat what you said?
And I'll do my best to ignore my head.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/distracted.html
Look at me now, I've got all of my limbs
I've got a thin physique, cause I'm kinda slim
I've glasses to correct my slighted eyesight
Where I live is neither too dark or too bright
I've a house to shelter in in bad weather
My parents are in love and still together
They cared for me when I was feelin' poorly
Saved money for the life that I 'ad before me
I've had a fondness for runnin' an' exercise
I'm surrounded by folk who're kind an' wise
I've never been tempted in starting to drink
I've always been allowed to create and think
I've no real addiction, no real vice
When I've struggled I've got great advice
While all the above're part of me
None of 'em define my personality
I've been gifted, in such a big fashion
That I've been allowed to pursue ideas an' passion
I must remain humble, deal with issues patiently
Cause I've been given such privilege in life to be me***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/look-at-me-now.html
You can say things that sound awful smart. I know you can, because you are smart.
But all of us get scared and fearful if someone looks at us too closely.
The issue is, everything we write can sounds dumb
If it's analysed, repeated, turned over and stared at long enough
You'll pour your heart into something
You''ll create meaning you find profound
Yet still, after a long enough time
You'll see your heart crumble from certainty
Honestly, it's no wonder people are scared
Scared of sharing anything they write
We often are when our hearts are on the line
Because, nine times out of ten, we have slaved
We have worked hard, struggled so
Analysed re-analysed our work
Until, eventually, at around the time you've poured more of your life into a piece than you're publicly willing to admit
That's when your work can seem to cease to mean anything at all
Nearly all art is illusion
Creativity comes from a source
As the artist, you alone know the trail
The map will seem so obvious to you
For those wanting to start and share writing
I give you this simple advice:
We all feel like frauds. Some more than others
But we all remember the first time we shared
It's always the hardest. And the scariest.
Even after practice, even after years, poetry still sounds dumb if you look too long.
But art is not for the long time, it is meant for moments.
And the best way to recapture any moment gone
Is to share it.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/creating-poetry.html
It is not an unheard sadness, for friends to die.
To selfishly leave us stranded down this gravity well
While themselves going on to pursue the next great adventure(tm).
It is uncertain to what extent the departed are aware of the world
What consciousness they retain in their corporal remains
With this certain knowledge of death's uncertainty, here is a claim I can venture:
Funerals aren't held for the dead.
After all,
No corpse has ever said thank you
No cadaver has ever given a final bow
No earthly remains have ever commented wistfully on the excellent selection of words in the final dedication to their lives.
No...
Funerals?
They're for the living.
A chance for those left behind to gather up feelings
Get thought emotion empathy all mashed together
Share with others a show of simple humanity
And honour the one who has left them.
To dress up and look the part of the mourner
To drown in seas of black and tears
To attempt to cement memories of ashes and dust
As though, by wearing the right clothes
By saying the right things
By singing the right songs
And by sharing together in this experience
All can collectively agree the soul is now fully lain to rest.
For the individual:
This is done by acting up your very best
To show, more than anything, that you care
That you would never do anything to disrespect memory
And so we speak in sadness while we dress lovingly in pure darkness
.
.
.
When I die, don't you dare wear black
Don't.
You.
Dare.
While I understand the funeral is for you, and not me,
I must still insist on this one thing.
You may play songs I have never listened to
Read from books I have never read
Even bring friends I have never met
For all these I would be open to in life.
But
To dress in a way I actively avoid
To reduce the colour in this world
To indulge in those very clothes
For which sadness smartness and repression are habitual.
No. You don't get that this time.
You don't get the easy way to show you care.
It would not show my memory respect
And I don't think it would feel genuine for anyone there.
When I die, please, please wear rainbows
Drape yourselves in shades and styles of colours and light
For I assure you, it is at this time, more than others
You will feel me trying my best to be there.
I will go, knowing that, just once with certainty
I will have brought a little colour to peoples' lives.
So don't you dare wear black.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/dont-you-dare.html
Holla, Holla, holla at my vegan boy
This is not a song to berate irritate or annoy
And holla, holla, holla at my vegan girl
At the tenacity in giving this philosophy a whirl
Alright, let's remove any preconceptions for a bit
Life does not come with a morality kit
We all decide now how to make our way
Where to make our home, how to make our pay
One daily decision which we make and repeat
Is to choose the food that we cook and eat
Just heed this warning when choosing your diet and food
Of any strongly aligned societal attitudes
So even though I'm afraid I could never really try it
Let me say I will not go at you for your vegan diet
Be it environmental - less carbon in the atmosphere
Be it ethical and mental - wanting no animalian harm or fear
Be it health or wealth - be it pure fussiness
This leads me to a most important point to address
While there is a joke about vegans being loud and obnoxious
I've never encountered one of these folks while conscious
So holla to those who live in a different fashion
Who persue what they do with tenacity and passion
But no holla or shout out to those who bully on repeat
There's really nothing special about eating meat***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/vegan-holla.html
The preacher he screaches at the tops of his tobacco stained lung
"Beware the end of days, whether you are old or young
I'm not sure if you have heard my words before
But we are all dying and the Earth's at war!
Beware the plagues, beware the frogs and especially the locusts
Be aware of this sage, take logs and don't lose your focus
We walk on a knife's edge, about to fall into a chasm
I Talk truth of life and you people bawl twitch and spasm
Can you not see the signs, have you never listened to the news?
This planet is dyin', glisten the truth of our abuse
There's new pestilence, diseases, we're either obese or starving
Oh, the ignorance of the young, is this not somewhat startling?"
Stoic, I stared. I did not intend to be cruel.
Wishing not to mock drive, I had to question fuel.
"Dear sir, much older and more experienced than I
I know not the manner by which we shall die
The wisdom of the ancients are not mine to claim
Yet please take heed of what I say all the same
We are living in our most peaceful era of existence
We've far less war, we've almost slain pestilence
Humanity is global now. We are all kin folk.
We can chat over miles, hell we can cry and joke.
If this is truly to be the way we, as humanity, go
There is no more reasonable end that I know."
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/end-of-days.html
An ode, my friends, to those ignorant men,
My brethren in a most global misdeed.
Who show our most prominent flaw when,
We fail to notice love someone seeds.
We unwittingly reject advances,
Unknowingly we stay in solitude.
It's not that we fail to take chances,
It's not that we try to act like a prude.
We are just clueless, and utterly so,
Don't believe love is for the likes of us.
We get regret - when realised - we know
We had a chance at something more than lust.
Please see that our silence means nothing less,
Than us men simply are just that clueless.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/ignorance.html
It stood nobly
Only bowing to the wind
And so, it was respected
Animals were granted access
Gracious for the privilege
They built secure homes
Plants around kept their distance
Do not venture too closely
Was knowledge all knew
Skies flicker
Rains come and go
The tree stands
The proud humans come
Knowing nothing
Of unspoken forest law***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-tree-in-forest.html
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.Robert Frost - The Road not taken
Oh how I long, dear poet of old
For that problem of which I was told
Two roads in the wood, diverging slowly
Seems so wonderful as to render it holy
Oh, how simple this life could be!
Life, as I learn painfully, is difficult
Bridges are burnt and later rebuilt
Paths are backtracked even while changing
Inconsequential decisions universally ranging
While we spend hours on matching paths
I see the beauty, I really truly do
On reducing the number of paths to two
But the campaign for honesty is here
To reduce the natural anxiety and fear
Of a man with only one difficult decision
Worry not, many-issued person of today!
I'll restate these lines in a more applicable way
A thousand sets of a thousand sets of paths diverged in a thousand cities, and I-
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has still made all the difference.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/choices.html
Often we go through life without even a care
So let's take a moment, to be self-aware
What I do, as I commune poetically
Is possible only because of my vocabulary
Since birth I've been building my bank of words
The meanings and subtleties I've since inferred
That my poetry is a sum of me currently
Simply because to me life was locally lucky
English is my own language, and dominant enough
I've never needed a second way to express stuff
My privilege, my fortune, and in a way, my curse
Is I've never had to learn another way to express verse
As a result, I can be quite nuanced and complex
In a manner of expression which can leave others vexed
'cause I've had a headstart, of my whole life I guess
So when the domain is English I can seem to impress
But now to acknowledge the expense of my lucky 'gift'
I am verbally sparse in every other language to exist
Yet others manage, with such grace and intellect
That their non-nativeness becomes natural to forget
And then
They apologise to me for lacking a little, sometimes
Because their short learning doesn't match my lifetime's
While I have zero expertise in where they come from
They feel so bad for being ever so slightly wrong
So this is a shout out, to those struggling in a second tongue
You are wise beyond years, I'm linguistically young
Never feel ashamed if you ever have to enquire or ask
These verbal tricks of mine are a single language mask
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/second-language.html
You poor little thing, you impossible soul
You who hold the most difficult goal
That among every human on this decrepit earth
Only you have been perfect since birth
The rest of us mortals, we pale next to you
Engaging in things only you have right to
So clearly only thee, blesséd among all
Have the final say and ultimate call
I've never seen you step over your line
Knowing precise the justness of crime
Always in the right place, exactly the right amount late
With the perfect etiquette for first second and third date
If we differ on an issue, it's always me who is wrong
If we sing different tunes, then I know not the song
I've never seen you admit to losing any sort of debate
About who it's right to love, and whom I must hate
I'm trying to learn from you, I really am
From such an honest and uncorrectable man
You give me such much feedback and also advice
About who I am and why I'm not nice
So accept my sympathy, you poor little thing
About the day to day horrors this earth must bring
For it must give you much stress and cause you much fuss
To live among mortals such as us.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/you-perfect-man.html
Life happens as it occurs to me.
Sometimes, life occurs gently.
Then life is blissful almost wistful running through clouds of mist I'll see each memory as it arrives and feel alive and so
I'll acknowledge the collage of colours life displays knowing that each and every day is just a collection of seconds yet
Each second is my first and life is not trying its worst it's just trying like each of us to get a grip or grasp on everything and anything
Although life is full of stress and somewhat a mess I swear and I declare that more than any other thing existing on this entity we call earth
Life is
Life is what?
It just is.
It exists.
That's the purpose of Life.
The rest of us
We find beauty in that meaning
Distil filter add what is our own and take away from that what we can
An elixir of essence
Then drink my friend
Down
Down to the last drop
Let it infuse with you and become even more you
Life is
We can try to plan or to panic
To fight flight or flounder
To stress savour or strive
To live or to lie
In the end life happens at its own pace
One second per second
As it always has
As it always will
As it occurs to us***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/as-it-occurs-to-me.html
The man I knew was full of surprises
Although I saw through all his disguises
He shocked and inspired me every day
Allowed me to develop (in my own special way)
The man I knew, well, he also knew me
We'd share experiences, wherever they'd be
We'd share the world, this man and I
Or how we laughed in times gone by
The man I knew did not come with me though
The man I knew could not follow where I'd go
The man I knew waited, as I developed afar
The man I knew now seems somewhat bizarre
Because the man I knew did not grow in my absence
He kept all my old prejudice and ignorance
Gained no new memories, and stayed quite still
In the manner of the comatose and deathly ill
See, I treasured my time deeply with the man I knew
I spend my time today with another man, quite new
Because though the man I knew doesn't really exist anymore
The man I knew is just the man I was before***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/the-man-i-knew.html
A goodbye can be many things. Yet it is just one word
This is polysemy. From one word, many meanings
Many different responses which can thus be inferred
From a simple goodbye emerges many feelings
"Goodbye Today" is said with closing eyes
An an inevitability in every utterance
The routine sadness is mere inevitability
As it's said with mechanical competence
The goodbye to a hero, that they cannot hear
To an inspiration you may never have met
A person who got you through your darkest year
Though they've gone their legacy is your safety net
Goodbye to a habit you've had for a while
Wishing a life with new habits and motives
Those it may have brought you many a smile
And the impact of its absence will be explosive
The casual goodbye, which later meant much more
A last word you didn't realise would be your last
When you didn't realise what the future had in store
As life has simply moved by you too fast
Goodbye is more versatile than we ever give it credit
We put much burden on the shoulders of this sound
So, until and if we meet again, please don't forget it
How much a goodbye can mean when it's around***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/goodbyes.html
This is today.
You're experiencing it live.
Front row tickets.
Now what will you see....
This is today,
Not yesterday, that's done and over with
No replay, so let's make it different. I saw it first hand
I say, yesterday, is old news.
This it today,
Not tomorrow, we're not ready yet
We come gracefully towards it soon. But for now
Let's have some grounding in the present
This is today,
Your whole life has been leading here, you know
That hole in your timeline is now filled. It is
Your soul, your flow. Your current.
This is today,
Though I've said this before, it's never the same tone
To strive to understand that in this moment. Only now
Are we alive, to experience today.
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/this-is-today.html
I pledge to listen more this coming year.
What if I agree with someone on an issue?
I will listen carefully to how we agree, in the hope that they can further my understanding and nuance, and find more wonder in what I already enjoy.
What if someone is passionate about something I am not?
I will listen to understand their passion, either to further it in them, or to elicit it in myself. Just maybe, the spark of a new interest may burn. I will not put someone down for having different interests to myself.
What if we disagree?
I will assume the disagreement is because of a well-thought out structure. I will endeavour to take the same path they did, and understand their journey.
What if their ideas are dangerous?
I will seek to understand, before I seek to marginalise. Seek to help enlighten them, before I seek to blind them. It is possible I am wrong.
What if they're bored of me?
I will give people polite opportunities to leave, if I can. I will accept that, on the whole, I am bad at reading signals, and should always allow people a chance to get away.
And what if I'm bored?
I will seek to find interest, and something to spark mutual energy.
Mostly, I will try to find the best in people. Find why they live their lives, as they obviously live one I do not.
I will try.
For that is all I can do.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-pledge.html
What is that boy, you've created something new?
Well that's fantastic, I'm so proud of you
With that last statement being so nearly true
To create is dangerous boy, did no one say?
You can't just make something then go on your way
You're invested now stay, see what I have to say
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
Oh, you have spent so long, you have worked so hard
You have overcome adversity when the way has been barred
Now you poured your heart into a creation, you are such a card
Because you think the difficult bit to be behind
Well, buckle up boy, you had better change your mind
Because that is not the reality that you are ever going to find
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
Release your creation boy, your public await!
Put it out in the world and embrace the hate
Your trainings in station, so don't be late
What you've made is surely offensive
Or a copy or flawed so get apprehensive
You took the risk, now get on the defensive
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
...
Dear Sir. I'm afraid I must ardently protest
See I know you're only saying what you know best
But I've found every creation is worth the invest
You get hit hard, I know that to be true
But every creation is just a reflection of you
Worth the perspiration for any person who enjoyed it too
To create is risky, but now I'm in this game
Sure I'll go through my fair share of shame
It's not because I'm trying to not be the same
What a beautiful thing is the monument in fate
To the strive and toil that marks this date
With the unique thing, existing only when you decided to create
I am a Christian, but I am not an evangelist.
See, I do believe, I find beauty in the bounty of creation, and without hesitation (or even much provocation) I can say why I find it amazing we exist.
It's had an impact on my life, minimised my strife, is important for if I ever seek out a wife, and that my faith is never something I have missed.
But that's exactly it, it's been ever present never evanescent simply a part of my element and evident in more ways than I could ever list.
I'm not sure I could ever do without, and so I'm scared to shout to preach aloud, though I'm allowed, and truly proud, but too much of an analyst
See, I never enter argument without indicant that I myself could find I could change mind were I too unwind and find myself an unwanton errorist
I care too deeply, too invested in the answer, to be tested, lest I'm bested, not in jest but in a way which strikes me as a theorist.
And yet, that's nearly all that I encounter as a doubter I will shout the protestation that "I'm still not sure about this"
And so it goes. All around me know and show certainty and thus I stand awkwardly in piety for myself that while I do believe as a Christian in Christ and all his gifts.
I am not an evangelist.***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/im-christian.html
It's one of the nicest things I've got to do
Be a friend to someone a little like you
You know the situation, go somewhere new
Scared about what you're going to go through
Not sure if people are friends or rival
On your toes from point of arrival
You're being judged, it feels the whole while
I'll be the friendly face and smile
It's not much effort, I swear that here
To realise if someone is feeling fear
To just be kind, and tease them out of the shell
Especially if you remember going through that hell
As they come and go, replaced with many more
To be kind to all who walk through that door
It's similar for you, but unique for them
Worth the effort to be a port in the mayhem
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/a-friend-in-strange-place.html
An animal on the street is must curious
Because usually you find them furious
Cars honking at them from both ways
Doesn't help to alleviate delays
Equine was the creature that I saw
Four legs stood on tarmac floor
Giving no sign of trying to move
Happily painted in paved road grooves
I'd been stood a while at the scene
Just wondering what it could mean
Key to this scene is that I waited
Let the scene progress as it was fated
Making no attempt to startle the beast
Not tempted to approach, and become feast
Obviously this irritated those at the wheel
Politely yelling if I was real
Quite clear, I pointed at the danger
Realising I had to help the stranger
Slowly, carefully, I explained clear
That stripes on the road gave me fear
Understanding nothing, he started to yell
Very loudly that I could go to hell
Walking out his car door to shout
X-ing the road to engage in the bout
"You an idiot, you fool" (He shouted to chafe)
Zebra crossings are perfectly safe***
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/zebra.html
I've never had wings.
I've never felt the wind.
Yet for what I have known.
I may well have flown.
One time, when I was five, I ran really fast.
Everyone around gaped and gasped as I galloped past
I leapt onto the bench in front of me and pushed down
Nor the lack of height nor the impact could make me frown
Age twelve, older, wiser, I did slightly better
All I simply did was to pen my predicament in a letter
Attach it with twine to the leg of something which could fly
And feel my insides and my words jump high
One year ago, actually, on this very day, I
tried to see if I could touch the sky
I got very close, by climbing the tallest ladder I could find
(Or at least, I got quite close in my mind)
Then, in fact, I tried once more just last week
I am sad to say that my arms were too weak
Though I flapped up and down, it just wasn't enough
As just a sadly (un-avian) ball of muscle and fluff
But what can I take from there steps into the unknown
For I still can't really say by any measure that I've flown
But I still ignore the doubters, and those with contempt.
For after all, I've tried. And the pleasure's in the attempt***
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/flight.html
I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, I don't have all the facts
I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, there are points of view I lack
I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, but I'm trying to pick up the slack
'Cause I'm ignorance, and that ignorance, is being but under attack
There are so many things that I know I don't know
And I have to say that sometimes it really does show
That to stay ignorant is a common status quo
A place I have to try hard not to go
See, I don't know much about many countries
If there is any interaction between birds and bees
Why it is that mornings cause so much pain (say what?)
Or how to stop a runaway train of thought
I just about know how to tie a bow tie
But not what to do if I see a baby cry
Why it is politics causes such heated debate
Or why some people so quickly turn to hate
So, here's something I really don't know to be true
Which is really, just who on earth are you?
Your religion, your faith, or your philosophy
If you consider sleep saviour or monstrosity
Like so many others, you are the sum of many parts
Adding up to give the world an impression to impart
In this world where we are so quick to blame strangers
We don't often stop to think of the dangers
I've seen so much recent hate, it's startlingly common
Insulting and scapegoating in manners ad hominem
I can't argue against, because I don't know enough to represent
All I ask is that you too realise you are ignorant.***
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/ignorant.html
In art, no one has a blank canvas.
...
At the start of all art, you have to be reverential
Because at heart every start is purely potential
We could unfold any world with that blank page
Because the world is whirled onto every stage
So why then, why? Do we have styles and trends
Because my oh my, don't you even pretend
That you don't have topics and tropes that you prefer
Have themes and schemes you always wish to infer
See the blank page is blank. That much is true.
But let me be frank while seeking no thank you
As the artist we must be incredibly stained
As someone who's the sum of how we've trained
Even the creative take comfort in what they make
Don't sink in to thinking this makes you a fake
Don't infer it's a sin to prefer one style or thing
Else you'd likely never ever make anything
When given the blank canvas. You must be aware
How your past steers you to the art hidden there
And other pasts would steer you in other ways
With no past you'd be staring at blank canvas for days
But, here's the twist, in case you missed it (and you care)
The more empty your mind's canvas, the more you find there
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/potential.html
To say I'm an old school cur is a rule of thumb,
But I love things that whirr, and things that hum.
A machine with too many gears and too many parts,
Is something I revere in my heart of hearts.
It's not at all suspect, in fact it's quite clear
When that thing there hits this thing here
One part goes clonk so that another goes clink
Which leads to a bonk so I don't have to think.
Machines these days are way too small,
How to know if they work at all?
If it erks 'n' jerks on a molecular scale,
With what size hammer do I smash it when it fails?
How am I to be a handy type of dandy man,
With objects that fi in the palm of my hand?
I love to grind, to tinker and to strive,
But this machine thinks and it's not even alive!
So back to the old school, with rust dust and levers
I remain with no shame the most ardent reverer
Down with the scientific witchery of present day
Who do modern engineers think they are anyway?***
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/things-that-whirr.html
No one watches tv anymore. We wouldn't dare.
We've got real life if we want our scare
We tell stories and tales of days gone by
Of the lost generation, of those on standby
It used to be, we would stare long into screens
It would give us laughter. It would give us screams
We'd plug ourselves in at the start of today
Put on our boots-up, and then press play
The key was never to acknowledge, of even admit
You'd lost days to a being, forced to commit
But what did that being do, with it's extra hours
What was the reach and source of its powers?
We tried to plug it up, but that made it worse
It would screeach and wail, if put in reverse
So we let it go on, stealing our time
Until we had none left to give of our prime
That was them, the standby generation
Who watched it happen without hesitation
They're gone forever, each boy woman and man
But their neon ghosts still haunt our land
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/neon-ghosts.html
Here's the answer to a question that you weren't even asking
There is no such thing as a perfect casting
For that book you adore that fills you with amour
When put on screen just leaves you wanting more
See this is the issue with our imagination
We fill in details and cracks with no hesitation
There are no seems, just seamless transitions
Which never even endeavours to require our recognition
Even right now, somehow, you are reading this in a certain way
The voice in your head acts with emotion, with disdain and dismay
And were I to read it to you, my way, in a voice of my own
It would not seek to replace the seed or tone your imagination has sown
There is no such thing as a correct way to experience art
But there is the first way, which left the imprint on our heart
Such that, when someone seeks to recreate that anew
It's just natural it wont be in the way that is personal to you.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/reviewing-art.html
I've done this before.
This day to day
Waking up in dismay
The repeat and replay
To all work and no pay
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
The eternal tired
The never inspired
My headache is fired
My nerves are wired
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
The ever-fake smile
And yet all the while
A face in denial
Of internal trial
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
You may know it too
And this to be true
What we've been through
Is never that new
We've done this before.
But what is it for?
That glimmer of change
Just out of range
Asks much in exchange
It may seem strange
I've seen it before.
I say nothing more
But that it's worth fighting for.
It's time that this world did not forsake me
No lie, it's tried, to bow down and break me
It fried me inside as it tried to bake me
Wanting to expose, but finding no fakery
It would never hold back
So I weathered attack
Of smacks front and back
That would felled any hackThough not framed in my favourThis game's to my flavourThe danger, I'll savour'til I emerge slave or a savior
I arose unbound from the ground
Though my soul it did hound
Alive now I'm found
Crowned a man of renown
This Earth will strike again
It matters not when
For now as for then
I have not forgotten
This earth's not one to trust
I'll fight 'til I'm dust
Until I'm bones and rust
Just doing what I must***
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/break-me.html
Your own experience of the world is not invalid.
The emotions you feel are very much real
There is no bubble that is more real than any other
No possible interference of anything but a real experience
It is not only they who have it worst who has a right to complain
Anyone can feel depression or anxiety or pain or PTSD
And yet, we must also, as always, acknowledge the inverse
We must be kind, not terse; whether or not our friend has it worse
See, when I look worldwide at the struggles other humans face
I can't help but feel bad for complaining about how I feel sad
As if the sheer resilience and courage so many manage to show
Means I should refrain from the response due to chemicals in my brain
I am not saying don't feel sorry for them. I'm not encouraging apathy
Go out and make a difference, join every indifference resistance
Merely saying that it's also ok for you to cry and laugh, if you need
You are always permitted to feel, that your experience is real.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/first-world-problems.html
Never forget your youth, dear reader.
By which I mean the truth.
Not of simple nostalgic flights of fancy
Your days were not that angelic
Not, simply of this fact, good friend
You'll realise if you think back
That you were made to conform each day
You were dressed in uniform
You were made to parade in dress
That was only ever a façade
There was no reason, though I say
To suggest so was treason
No financial incentive, as in employment
Just a crush on fashion inventive
There are no individuals, in a crowd of the same
Just uniformed residuals.
One day, I happened to go back to my school.
Back to the place that started it all.
To the place I was never cool.
But back as a much wiser fool.
I came in colour. And felt alight.
When wondering through those halls.
No longer fitting in. I drew stares and gossip.
Setting me apart with knowledge
knowledge the pupils had yet to grasp
I smiled.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/colour-in-crowd.html
We, as a country, elect a leader
(Near enough we do anyway)
This leader is sent to live in London
And in London they'll tend to stay
A five minute walk from work
What a beautiful place to reside
And if you go to Downing Street
You can see through the leader's eyes
See, what's telling is not the gates
The security looking the part
What's telling is the surroundings
The feel, the look, the Art
Some of our leaders have gone to war
More sent others in their stead
Some of those others came victorious, some came defeated
Most they came back dead.
As if in protestation, the country, well
The country responded in force
Not to say they were wrong or at fault
Although some of them were, of course.
Merely to make many a monument
A testament to those dead throngs
Then make many more (for we've many a war)
Built strong of stone and bronze.
Each war is different, each monument too
But somehow all the same
Trying to tell our leader, shouting it silently
That war is not a game.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/on-streets-of-our-leader.html
I look out for myself, in my own way,
I try to take care of the day to day
I watch for trouble, look for danger
Every other human is essentially a stranger
So I keep myself aware and healthy
For this is a tie that binds me
But I can't just watch out for myself blindly
Throughout my life I've loved my family
They've supported me since I was a child
Now I give shelter away from the wild
I love my family, and do what I must,
For these are the ties that bind us.
I care for friends, trying not to cause fuss
I give 'em support and advice if I must
My confidants, those to whom I turn
With differing thresholds I try to learn
I joke and tease, to try to be kind
For these are more ties that bind
I love the country with which I'm aligned
I care for its heart, body and mind
Though honestly we may not always agree
I do care and work and hope for my country
I should vote, protest and aid sans hesitation
For these are ties that bind our nation
I care for those across all boarders
The sharers, cares, hopers and hoarders
We are you united by no more than our biology
The empathy inherent inside humanity
Opportunities are sparse, but I do what I can
For the ties that bind me to my fellow man
We all care, in one way or another
For family, community, country or lover
Recognise those with whom we share lives
Those on whom we depend to survive
The question is where we draw our line
Between our ties that bind
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-ties-that-bind.html
Dear human,
Rest assured this letter is not of the form I would love to write
I would love to claim moral height of what is wrong and right
I dearly desire to dismantle and dissent of all that you do
But I can't. The truth is, I don't even know you.
Dear human,
You untouchable being separated by electronic waves and wires
One of humanities many enragers, saviours, liars or criers
The fact is, I don't know you. Not in any meaningful way
Though we may have met, or may indeed meet someday.
Dear human,
The reason I'm labouring (maybe straining) this particular issue
Is that I've literally no idea what hardships you've been through
You may be fathering a child, have never smiled, or be just fine
I'm sad to say I don't know your struggles, as you don't know mine.
Dear human,
When my dear friend posted about her experience with sexual assault
I hope you realise, regardless of appearance, that this wasn't her fault
That she may have already gone through enough stress, anguish and fear,
Without you saying "your arse was grabbed once. Not exactly the sinking of the titanic here".
Dear human,
I've no idea why you or I may choose to say the things we say
I like to think us all honest and blessed, in our own little way
Maybe you really do judge everything life brings by the same metric
Judging life as if you're thinking you are sinking on the titanic.
Dear human,
I would dearly love for this letter to allow me to shame and rage
But I clearly don't know you, and we're not on the same page
I don't know your life and struggles, and I'm not going to pretend
I just wish you had realised to do the same to my good friend.
This was a five part poem. Only the first three fit in the description, links to the other two are below.
Stage 1: The Gates
Are you really alive? Are you really awake?
Is all this real, or might it be fake?
Do you know for certain, can you be sure?
In which domain you dwell either side of dreams door?
Let us propose to postpone pomp and pretence
Stop with the certainty, admit self-synthesised sense
This world, whatever it be, confuses all the human race
We struggle to reason, just ruse to wear a brave face
For those who walk the borders between lands, beware
I have known men slip the line of neither here nor there
Traverse an edge long enough, who knows what you find
When the certain become stuff, you know not you own mind
Let us journey, the glory is always in adventure
To the initial question, which I felt brave to venture
Of if we are in dream, or dwell with the awake
I propose it matters not. Regardless, we shall undertake
To shine. Let us make promises and favour, debts to be owed
Let us adventure so our subconscious struggles to lay road
Whichever world we find ourselves, lets us still be proud
Let us prod dwell and delve, meet our destiny unbowed
Stage II: The passage
The dreaming is not a difficult place to enter
You've probably done so yourself many a time
Any meaning or memory you must face to surrender
To protect everyone against dream crime
The dreaming is more fragile than you've been told
A single misstep and it'll break
Usually seeming to occur just as the good bit takes hold
You suddenly find yourself awake
Those who are versed in passage can avoid this path
We've seen some shape dreams to their will
They've rehearsed an age to hone their craft
Weave reams and make seams with utmost skill
They always get the kiss before opening eyes
Can always utter that last goodbye
For days they've waited in bliss where they lie
No sound say they but a sigh
Beware, though, should you chose this path
Do not draw attention to you presence
The Lord of Dream enjoys a laugh
You should seek prevention from this circumstance
Tread soft. Get the girl after time. Fly low.
There is much to offer a traveller in Dream
Don't act aloft, being hasty is a crime y'know
Be aware from this storyteller not to blaspheme
Stage 3: Comfort
It is often the curse of life, that we get too comfortable in our way
We're all versed in strife, too ameliorated with the day to day
Too easy to get a trifle too used to do tomorrow what you did today
See the same eye full of images emerging as if they're on replay
It is all too easy, to turn to live a life that's sedentary
You must seize the day be on guard like the sentry
Unlock the problem the keys of the solution elementary
Lest you freeze sans delay you must force your entry
Nowhere is this more true than when discussing your dreams
Nothing more sticky than glue than thrice failed schemes
To explore through I implore you to live in new regimes
And force into new ways of sleep, experience extra extremes
Do not fall into the same wish, night on night
Do not stall when deciding to walk or take flight
You must know by now what is easy may not be right
You must show your strength, for courage is a fight
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-1-gates.html
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-ii-passage.html
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-3-comfort.html
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-4-dreaming.html
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/stage-5-sleep-paralysis.html
When I was born
And when you were too
Some sounds were uttered
Then given to you
You held on tight
Still do to this day
To that utterance
Which you portray
The sound is not unique
To you or another
Yet it's certainly yours
To be learnt to a lover
These sounds are you
Pick you out from crowds
Yet mean nothing more
Than what you allow
They are arbitrary
But that doesn't mean
They can't be you
Who you are, who you've been
Did you stop to wonder
To if you had different sounds?
Would you be the same
If that different you were found?
It matter not
For you are simply you
But it's also fact
Your name is you too.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/names.html
IMPORTANT: THIS IS A PSA
IF YOU'VE RECENTLY FOUND YOURSELF DOWN ON A MONDAY
LESS ENTHUSIASTIC THAN MANY OF YOUR BUSINESS COLLEAGUES
UNABLE TO FOCUS ON ANY CIRCULAR OBJECT WITHOUT WANTING TO THROW IT
TRYING MOTIVATION CHANTS BEFORE IMPORTANT MEETINGS
SPIKING ANY REPORTS DONE ON TIME TO AN ACCEPTABLE STANDARD
OR EVEN JUST RELISHING CRAMP FOR THE MEMORIES IT CONTAINS
THEN YOU,
ARE SUFFERING,
FROM,
POST TOURNAMENT BLUES...
The post tournament blues are the downfall of us all
Where most incidents renew your recall of a call
Since recent emotions have been so intense and too high
Your mind's location is green pitches and blue sky.
The speech replay of the captain trying to inspire you at half
The point of day where you were in pain 'til a team mate made you laugh
Your saviour, near enough flying in a bid to make up for your mistake
You savour this stuff near crying until you have to fake you're awake.
Snap back to reality, and ain't it cold?
You lack normality, though it should've taken hold
See, the moments where you are most real and alive
Paid atonement now in the struggle to feel and strive.
You miss your team. You miss your friends.
You want to scream and make it end
It's the price we pay, for bonds so tight
My advice today, to make it right.
Is to enjoy the tournament most, while you are there
To not annoy or taunt the host, to show you care
To play with spirit and heart, try not to be fake
Today give it your part, for all of our sake.
It may not make it any better the day after
Trying to fake along with the office laughter
Just know if you make your tournament and invest all you can do
Your team is doing what they do best, and sharing that feeling with you.
And with your team behind you, you can do damn near anything.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/post-tournament-blues.html
History is written by the winners, as you know. By the victors, the ones who come in first.
Usually, rightly so. They fight and battle so when it matters they don't end up as worst.
With great respect we honour their names. Learn our lessons from their paths
They're showered in riches, respect and fame. We study their skills and mimic their craft.
Winners are two a penny, as far a history is concerned. You can find them ending each story.
This poem is dedicated to those who're spurned. Whose fate is somewhat more gory.
This is an ode to the loser. A tale of the downtrodden. A requiem for the ever unrealised.
It was felt they are owed a chance to explain and broaden the perception of those never idealized.
You see, there is beauty in the struggle
Drawn from a duty to not crumble
There is much to be learnt from the fight
Even if victory is not earnt that night
To the resilient soldier in dulled armor
The brilliant lover in cold amour
The persistent in the face of defeat
The ever-resistant but finally beat
For the strength to be defeated, but still keep going
Make the conflict be repeated, scars still showing
To rise from the ashes to still get burnt
To live through the crashes, with knowledge earnt
We should remember that life is not just made of victories
You can learn from those who lost well
That throughout all of history
The man who came in second still has a tale to tell
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/dedicated-to-loser.html
I am not a smart man. I was never even a smart boy.
What I am, is curious. Curiosity leads to preoccupations.
Which leads to you forgetting whether or not you've eaten lunch.
Alternatively, it also leads to finding out some rather cool things.
The issue I have is, there are so many things to be curious about.
The world has so many wonders, lots of which are distressingly difficult to discover.
As such, as soon as one discovery is made, it must be abandoned.
If only to embark on the next great adventure.
This means I forget a lot of things.
That discoveries are lost. Even if only to be rediscovered later.
That what was once known, is no longer.
That one must never become certain, if a person is to keep changing and evolving
So, before I forget:
I need to remember that I am a different person today
Than I was yesterday, the day before, and all days prior.
And, going on from that, to who I will be tomorrow.
Before I forget, I need to remember that though I have moved away from dear friends
I have always gained fantastic new ones.
There are now so many people and faces I have known.
The chance to reacquaint myself should never be ignored, lest it never reappear.
Before I forget, I need to remember all the people who have helped me
Even if it were to no benefit to themselves.
That the kindness of others works best if passed on.
That sometimes you don't see the rewards of your efforts, and that's ok.
Before I forget, I need to remember that I know no mind but my own
And even of my own mind I'm not completely certain
That others are fighting battles of which I have no idea of the battlefield or the dreadful enemy
But that refuge in such battles is always appreciated.
Before I forget, I need to remember that I began a beginner.
Before I forget, I need to remember that the past had it's flaws, and so will the future
Before I forget, I need to remember why I learnt whatever it was in the first place
Before I forget, I need to remember that how ever much I experience, I can never capture life perfectly inside me.
But mostly, before I forget
I need to remember what made me who I am in the first place
I need to remember, always, to stay curious
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/before-i-forget.html
The aliens came to destroy us, which was only fair
We'd been instituting polluting without a care
We'd been renegades of morality, aka the human race
The rest of destiny would not be ours to face
However, before we were vapourised to just a residue
The aliens were of a kind mind to give us our due
They gave us an offer which we couldn't refuse
The single message of our legacy was soon world wide news
Who would deliver it, and what would it say?
We'd quarrel and war for all of the day
"Us" said the white men "we've been the rulers"
"We're the cleverest, the cunningest, sit back as we school ya"
"Nah" said the mothers "We won't take that anymore"
"They should hark at the matirach not your tale of gore"
Said the blind "We've seen humanity for how they truely are"
The artists "It's our duty to tell of our beauty and bizarre"
The refugees told of our notions of what is was to be free
The disabled enabled visions of our heirarchy
The old told of what we'd done to deserve our fate
The honest would admonish us for our holding of hate
The evangelist spiel was to tell of our sin
The atheist's tone was his own, but said the same thing
Voices rose, and we came to roar and yell
The aliens watched as earth turned to hell
Their job done for them, they turned to leave
Humanity instigation of its own decimation was beyond reprieve
They felt a tug on their robe, just before they left us to our gory glory
As a young child smiled, and simply said "sorry"
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/our-last-message.html
Once more, my friends, is all it takes
Muster energy once more for all our sakes
Once more is all it needs to be
Until we shall be once more free
Once more, those old words of inspiration
Just once more with effort and perspiration
Once more and all will be over and all will be done
We shall once more be free to be someone
Once more, I promise, I swear it's true
Marshall energy now and you'll soon be once more through
Once more, the end is now nearly in sight
Try once more now and be done by night
Once more, once more, that fickle phrase
You've gone through many ill-fated days
And all I ask, this final score
Is for you to take this journey, just once more
I said once more my friends, because in truth I'm weak
All our journeys are necessarily unique
What's once more for me is no more for you
But trouble is still better once it's through
So when I say once more, I say it kind
For I will say I do not know your mind
I do not know what once more would take for you
Just that the fact that it's just once more is true.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/06/once-more.html
The greatest of all sins is pride. And so I must confess
That, deep down inside, I felt great duress
That I found the scene before me impossible to explain
To not be able to say what I had seen caused me great pain
Alright, let me clear my mind and at the very least try
To explain what you see when you go above the sky
The setting is made, I'l give you my angle
The beauty displayed out of your transparent rectangle
Ignoring the wing in the corner of your eye
An ugly orange thing emblazoned with corporate vox populi
You see the wondrous sight of the clouds from above
As your heart is set alive with longing and love
You want to break outside, to try and escape
So you can live forever inside the cloudscape
You're to be enclosed in this rectangle another hour
The discontent sowed as your mood starts to sour
I want to sell this time later to a great artist of the past
Take a bard, poet or painter of a high enough class
Who can properly portray the majesty of this moment
As my skills have betrayed my description of this incident
I haven't yet begun to describe the cloud horizon
Nor mentioned the sun anew bright as my view wizened
My heart is down, as I realise I haven't described it at all
Just take solace my eyes witnessed something so beautiful
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/06/cloudscape.html
Run, run, run, run
The time to move has just begun
Though to some it may not seem fun
You'll change your thoughts when I am done
Ok, let me paint a picture for you
You are young, energetic, and lively too
You love the grass as it flies past your running shoe
Each rushed breath you breath is life anew
Then suddenly, from out of the grass
A branch sticks out, makes you fall on glass
That step you took would be your last
For a good long while, without a cast
Suddenly, life moves a lot slower now
There's advantages, that fact you'll allow
But that fact will never make up somehow
You see all your friends running, all "faster than thou"
You long for the feel of wind in the hair
All you can do, is train and prepare
Go through physio and hell, as others just stare
Wondering what could push someone to so powerfully care
Day turn to weeks turn to months turn to a year
Your inner thoughts turn to your greatest fear
All you want to do is not be stuck here
You want to run so bad as you fight back a tear
The day you're allowed to jog blows your mind
The first steps beyond a walk in a long long time
But you dare not go faster, commit that crime
Indulge in the speed you so want to find
It's here, finally, the day of speed
Its certainly been waiting a long time indeed
The day finally, when you fulfill your need
Gets set, get ready, and now I've planted the seed
I hope you can see now what I have done
Go out, enjoy it. I promise you'll have fun
Have I inspired you at all since I first begun?
Do you finally see, what a beautiful thing it is to run?
You lucky thing.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/06/running.html
He was the magician, his tricks you'd never realise
You could get an optician to double check your eyes
You could see a psychiatrist to examine your brain
Who'd heartily insist you were indeed quite sane
A philosopher you'd see, and debate the nature of man's being
A scientist in biology would confirm the magician a human being
A gymnastic trainer to confirm the impossibility of such a reflex
A filmographer to let you rewatch visually yet still stay vexed
You see it seemed impossible, what that man could do
You were there for at all, you witnessed the show through
It's been haunting your thoughts, all other ideas tried on the shelf
You went and caught him, to ask the man himself
"Dear magician, entertainer, I must make a request
I could never refrain from calling you the best
Your tricks have troubled my thoughts, and I can't break free
As such I have sought to ask to reveal your secrets to me"
He replied
"Dear entertained, I'm so very glad you enjoyed the show
But for what you have asked I'm sad I can't let you know
Though it may surprise you, in fact I would prefer to be in your position too
Imagine being the only person in the room for whom the magic doesn't hold true?"
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/06/magic.html
It's one of the few times in its insanity, humanity hasn't lied
When it acknowledged as homage our greatest sin is pride
We like to pretend our philosophy is unique, it's hypocrisy
That our culture has the only properly practiced clique of democracy
This hypothesis is preposterous, but it's argued in absentia
From our monstrous cluelessness of kingdom animalia insecta
You heard me right, the insects of this earth elect the ruler of their state
Let me not just infer or be impolite, let us go instead straight to the debates
You'll see the idea and their demeanor, none of us will know the victor
Each bug claiming they are meaner and stricter
The reBuglic stands strong, the empire looms past the horizon
A democracy far greater than any you've yet laid eyes on
Up to give their first spiel, it's their incumbent overlord
You may feel he's worst, vitriol inherent like swords
But he's grown soft in the underbelly, a ready reason for uprising
He was one once feared as Machiavelli, now treason wouldn't be surprising
Next in line to argue for lord insect elect
Is a dungbeetle intellect out to infect
The masses of lads, neuter, and lasses with their talk of a dystopian ideal
But sadly he's badly and madly arguing a position too intellectual
A long nosed weevil sniffs around then takes the stand
Claiming to be the ultimate evil she unleeshes the zeitgeist canned
Appeals straight to the hearts by claiming bacteria welfare
She's got rhetoric as an art, delighting in the fear and the scare
Right next to me you can see the bumblebee, causing a buzz
No chance to flee as she would sting with glee through his fuzz
Causing a stir trying to get the masses to collect as a colony
You can hear her avoiding calls of socialist sticking to her policy
Demanding reform an armed alliance as urgency
Is the cockroach claiming they could live with spiders in harmony
That together they could take this land by surprise
A very curious call to be Lord of the Flies
The mosquitos and moths, the butter and dance flies
Each have their representative, watched by stalked eyes
It's not a responsibility to take lightly, the leader of this space
Just think twice when you claim democracy as sole domain of the human race
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/05/democractinsect.html
Y'know. For a population so diverse, so varied, so fantastic. We use a lot of labels.
Wherever we go, with whomever we converse, we like to keep our reality stable.
We make matches, avoid mixes, we categorise people's personalities with care
And it catches, because the trick is, it simplifies humanity so we can socially prepare
This world is confusing so we strive to be the first to make sense of it all
It's mostly amusing, to be alive is to thirst to try to enthrall
To capture imaginations and a heart's fraction of anyone we happen to meet
Without hesitation engage in the art of interaction when we greet
We want to be outstanding to be more than just a member of the crowd
We're demanding that we be dismembered from another vox populi, if we're allowed
We want to be special. To be unique. To be essentially ourselves.
Yet we make all the others seem freaks if into individuality they delve
The first trick into letting others see you not just as another stereotype
Is to slip into the habit of never just painting pictures of people with the same stripes
Create a picture of the world which is fantastic in the range of colour and shade
The structure that'll unfold will spring elastic into new shapes, and leave you permanently amazed.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/05/labels.html
If today is not the day we die, then let it be a day worth living
Before the world should pass us by, for time is unforgiving
There's action we can take, paths that we may choose
There are smiles that we can make, hours that we can loose
If today is not the day we die, let it be one we remember
Let July not pass us by, so we can't recall it in December
We all have dreams, we all have goals. It is not wrong to strive.
Complete your longing, and be whole. Let us feel alive.
If today is not the day we die, let it be like no other
For when this day will pass us by, there is likely just another
The future is not known of any, nor what destiny has in store
Just remember the last beg of many, who ask for one day more.
If today is not the day we die, then let it be a day we laugh
Let it not be yet another day we take by half
We've all so much kindness and passion we can give
Because I feel today will not be the day we die...
So let it be a day we live
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/05/if-today.html
I would like you all to realise how fantastic democracy is
And yes, I know it's flawed. I know there are many different democratic systems.
I know there are those whose voices I do not want governing me
I know there are those who do not want my voice governing them.
But voting. Ah, voting. It's the great equaliser.
No matter how much money gets spent, in the end, you get the choice
You. No matter who you are. You matter.
You matter enough that you get a say in this country.
When you see human rights violations
When you want road works completed quicker
When you get angry at the news you read
When you disagree with your neighbour
You have a direct say in how the country is run.
It may not count for much. There's lots of voices after all.
You don't mean more than them. They don't mean more than you.
For those that care. voting is the minimum you can do.
It's far from the only thing. But it's certainly one of the greatest steps.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/05/why-im-voting.html
Don't get me wrong. I'm amazed at the Sun. I really am.
I don't really understand the physics. Or the chemistry.
I just know it as a big ball of fire in the sky above me.
I know it's been here from long before I was born.
And will probably be here long after I die.
It provides plants with energy, to produce the oxygen we breath
It lights up our life so we can see our lover's faces
It is hidden by a rotating Earth to give us chance to rest
Now, we have harnessed the Sun to start to power our homes
It is vital to all life on this Earth.
Now, I understand all this, I really do.
But when a ray of light, emitted by this ball of fire
Travels eight minutes through the vacuum of space
Past space dust and planets, penetrating our atmosphere
Reaching the insignificant surface of this blue rock, against all odds
And finds, out of seven billion people, me.
Forgive me if I forget the wonders and curse at the Sun a short while.
As someone who burns a little easily.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/04/tanning.html
Stop if you've heard this one a few times before
The re-tale of those who clean and mop the floor
The deja vu of the cashier's day
Just sit back and press "replay"
I said stop me, if you've already seen this scene
Analysed all the wall you're appalled this is mean
There's not one task to do you haven't done prior
Your brain goes insane as you know this world entire
Don't pretend you don't know of this world gone stale
The all-too well known re-tale of retail
You've done it so many times. Repeated every task
I said to stop me. Was that too much to ask?
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-re-tale.html
They're working, working. On computers and paper
But I'm working too, serving caffeine to their flavour
I see all types, observe every Mrs and Mister
So listen to the tales of the coffee shop barista.
They're working, working, scribbling away.
Some have been here since the start of the day
Let me take you through the types, the workers' who's who
Because it seems everyone these days has a lot of work to do
Sitting by the door, talks to everyone as they pass
Is the not-really-worker, the snake in the grass
The distraction, the trap, the folly of the fool
While blank pages litter their table and stool
In the corner by the window, watching the world go by
Is the worker-dreamer, who let's their imagination fly
They'll compose a thousand stories of the world outside
Before trapping a single story into words inside
Right by the counter, next to the coffee bean sack
Needing regular coffee, and needing it black
Always up at the counter, and shaking slightly
We have the worker-addict, to name them politely
The imposter in the shop, of which we have a fair few
Comes in looking haggled and tuts at the queue
Spends fifteen minutes setting up, but never stays for long
In coffee shop worlds, worker-drones just don't feel they belong
Working in the middle, taking centre stage
Is a person who has written many a page
My favourite worker, for they've survived such a trial
The introvert in the room, for whom I always save a smile
The hardest worker of all. Head always down and low
Lest they have to talk to someone for more than a hello
Social anxiety can make this a personal hell
Yet it's the same thing that makes them work so well
Every worker in the room has a type and style
Some here briefly, some here for a while
So if you ever come to my shop to work, I can guarantee
You won't be alone, it's a worker community.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-coffee-shop.html
You wasted three seconds reading this line
Another two on this one.
We need to be careful with how we spend out time
Whether on learning or fun.
Our purse of time is not predetermined
Yet it will have a limit
When you're young, as far as your concerned
Most spending is within your remit
You can't live each day preparing for sundown
You'll survive the night anyhow
Yet as you spend more time to become more renown
You'll gain more regrets than you should allow
If I'd spent my time differently, I'd have been
So different to how I am
Why yes, that's true, but what does it mean?
What's more, should you give a damn?
After all, you've likely still plenty left in your banks
Don't worry about fortunes lost
Enjoy what you spend, be happy and give thanks
Realise that some things are worth the cost
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/04/time.html
Pitter patter pitter patter goes the rain on the window
Howl and whistle, can you hear the wind blow?
Thud and splat as the rain raises it's attack
Now there's a solid connection as the hail makes contact
And here you are, just hidden away
Protected and secure, no need to pray
There's no hell to endure when you're under a roof
You can shelter ensured of protection, that's truth
You can find it peaceful, the chaos outside
It's almost sinful, like a sin of pride
That some are feeling pain, and getting wet through
It's almost insane, the duality you go through
You feel safe in pure safety, it seems odd then
That you can relax to danger, but only when
It's close by, but still kept at bay where you can see
Yet another reason why I find humanity a curiosity
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/04/outside-elements.html
Practical exercise time.
You've probably done it before courtesy of a tired teacher
Now courtesy of this rhyme
I want to re-execute this exercise in enlightment like a preacher
Are you ready? Do you trust me like science?
I'm going to follow it with you and write right after that
I need you to turn off all noise, engage in silence
Be aware of all that surrounds where you sit.
...
The constant whirr of my computer is not new. I'm aware of this companion
What else is there I don't always acknowledge?
A car on a distant road. It's man-made engine purrs as the wheels spin in tandem
Then something new is added to my knowledge
It's all artificial. Were I to try this again
Outside my home in a field in nature
I would hear insects enough to drive me insane
Or rivers and wind, I would happily venture
Humanity has made amazing things. But we must be aware
What progress has done is certainly profound.
We have silenced nature. Created our own fanfare.
I'm curious as to what you found?
I'm sure you've heard the big names before
The classics, the greats, the best for ever more
The ones who stand out from an ever growing crowd
The ones who you'd love to know and make proud
Well put all those aside, whatever your doing
Whatever goal it is in life you're pursuing
I assure you, there's no point from this moment on
You've been surpassed, there's no stopping the momentum
They'll do it with skill, they'll do it with flare
They'll do it through passion, hard work and care
They'll do it effortlessly, without even trying
They'll be so good it'll leave you crying
And no, they aren't just another flash in the pan
You're sure to always remember this man/woman
Whatever he/she will do would just be a fad
They wont just be good once and then be bad
No I assure you this is a name you'll remember for eternity
The best in history, of all humanity
Welcome to the greatest name you'll ever hear
The eternal name of
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-greatest.html
It's not often that the death of someone you've never met affects you so personally. This. This is one of those times.
My first steps on the Discworld were shaky
I wasn't sure if I'd take a firm footing
I was young, so young, when first I ran with Rincewind
It was the first time I remember enjoying meeting Death
Slowly my footing on this odd world became more solid,
The skies became tangible as I met its characters on its ground
I slunk in dark greys as I observed the dragons and nightwatchmen.
I saw people grow from children to adults. I saw monks ensure it happened
When you've spent so much time in someone's imagination
Literally lived there, slept there, though maybe avoided drinking its water
It can be difficult to leave. Remind yourself it isn't yours.
Just remind yourself that the wonderful person who made it was kind enough to share it with you
So, to Sir Terry Pratchett, one of the custodians of my childhood
Now that I see Death again, and he appears not so kind, I just want to say thank you.
Thank you. So much. For sharing your imagination.
Thank you for the people I met, and the places I went, under your care.
Thank you, you brilliant, brilliant man.
"No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away...”
― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man
He was a fixed learner
Never was a yearner
Always put his dreams
on the backburner
She had a growth mindset
Would start to get upset
If the last thing she'd done
Wasn't the best she'd done yet
He thought talent was fixed quantity -
A self-fulfilling prophecy
As, when faced with a challenge,
Retreat was his philosophy
She saw her talent just as potential
That fact was evidential
Because when she faced opposition
A battle was consequential
When he saw success
He found it nothing less
Than threatening and worrying
While she was inspired and impressed
She so desired to learn, he so desired to look intelligent
So he cheated and schemed, she'd say that attitude was decadent
They started off the same, maybe him slightly ahead
The ending to both their stories I'll let you invent
Any guesses?
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-grower-vs-fixed-learner.html
Had I been a girl, I wonder how my life would be
All I know is my name - I'd have been known as Hermione
My birth would've brought gender balance to my family
So my parents would have 2 boys, and 2 girls
I wonder then what I would be in this world
I know, at least, my parents would have been kind
If, as a girl, I had showed a scientific mind
But from society what prejudice would I find?
Maybe I'd have studied humanities, delved deep into art
Maybe I'd have gone less with my brain and more with my heart
Would I have been bullied less? Or even more?
Would I still like everyone and be an optimist at core?
Would choosing how to appear each day actually become a chore?
I might have had mood swings, maybe gone to a riot
Given the percentages I'd likely have weight issues and be on a fad diet
Would I be as inclined to sport? There'd be less opportunity
I was very energetic, maybe I'd have channelled that creatively
Certainly I'd have been the only girl in my school playing frisbee
Since I likely couldn't rely as much on height and speed I know
Maybe I'd have been a different player, actually learnt to throw?
How would I perceive the world? How would it perceive me?
Would I have prejudice, be aware of privilege I currently don't see?
Had I been a girl, would my life have turned out differently?
Or would I be much the same? Its hard for me to know
Exactly how my gender has shaped the places I can go.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/03/had-i-been-girl.html
I took the slow route today
It's odd, but I think I liked it.
It turns out, the place that I live is remarkably beautiful.
The sun can indeed shimmer, if you look at it right.
If neither of you are going too quickly, you can exchange a good morning with strangers.
Close up, scenery isn't actually blurred.
The space between worlds is a destination itself
The journey is not intrinsically interwoven with the destination
Time, is not merely a deadline
Time is what we are given to experience the world.
The path I walked was beaten, but not previously be me
It had a stone wall one one side, sometimes. People tending allotments on the other
The streams flowed. Picking up some sediment, but also leaving it to rest.
Baby birds really are absolutely tiny.
The cliché of life going too fast is well known.
But life doesn't go fast. We do.
When we don't, we often don't move at all.
Needing to rest from going fast the whole time.
Slow. Slow is a new one to me.
Not quite rest. But far from fast.
I won't take it again for a while. Tomorrow is down as a fast day.
But the trail is not as unfamiliar now as it was.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-slow-route.html
I'm the happy man, the new guy to meet
Always a grin, and cheerful to greet
Maybe not the life of the party, but certainly life in the room
Someone who seems to not feel gloom
There's no question I get joy from interaction
I do enjoy when I'm doing things and taking action
At parties you'll see me chatting to all
Confidence among strangers was never my downfall
I've never had an issue talking to new faces
I love to meet those who Life gave different races
I really do enjoy chatting and conversation
So please don't let this next fact cause you hesitation
While I do enjoy meeting others and hearing their view
I struggle to get up, I find life difficult to pursue
The effort initial, I find harder than you'd be imagining
It's often why I'm late to many a gathering
The conversation itself also causes me to tire
Perhaps you may not guess when I have to retire
While still awake and aware, my mind still thinking
Just unable to join in with partying and drinking
I'll be clear - I do enjoy your company, I like you indeed
Though public life is hard I do not want to receed
But it's so much effort, I can clearly attest
So please forgive me, if I have to excuse myself for a rest.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/02/confessions-of-fake-extrovert.html
Take my hand, there's a world to explore
All you need to do is leave your front door
It's the hardest step, but it's the most worthwhile
Please leave your doubts and ignore your denial
Take my hand, we can go anywhere you wish
Walk lands with mammals, swim oceans with fish
Please realize, right now, you could travel this earth
Thank how little you've seen so far since birth
This world is so big and broad and varied and vast
Expand your mind from the mold in which it is cast
There's places on earth to visit that you haven't been yet
If you just take my hand and make the first step
Meet many characters with which to converse
Make many lives in which you contribute a verse
Just know that though life gets better and life gets worse
That's true if you stay or you travel the universe
Let's see the moon from many any angle
Let's get into scrapes, though escape we will wrangle
Let's try new food, walk on new road
Repay your soul the debt of adventure it's owed
If you don't start now, you may never at all
I'll always be here, you just need to call
Feel wind in your hair and your feet on sand
We'll explore the world, just take my hand
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/02/take-my-hand.html
I imagine on this night, Life manifest as a reality show.
With the Host cloathéd in white from his head to his toe
His grin, it sparkles. His voice is veneer.
The lights go dark, his will becomes clear.
For now at least, he's running the game
He'll unleash your beast, he'll make you feel shame
He's got questions and challenges to test every master
Your heart starts to race as the beat it gets faster
"So, are you ready? Let's test what you know.
You'd better be steady because it's 3-2-1-Go!
You think you're an adult, I know this about you
But that thought feels at fault, so let's see what you do"
I know I can't resist, I have no defense
But I get his gist, I put on a pretense
"Sure I'm ready host, I'll show you no fear"
He knows this to be boast, he sees through me clear
"Host, bring it on, I can adult with the best
Just ask almost anyone and bring on your test"
He grins ear to ear, raises his hands to the skies
And I know that right here, my pretense of adulthood dies
Snow. Snow falls from the sky in flakes
I know that I'll soon be revealed as a fake
I try to pretend it makes me sick, muster up a pretense
Start complaining about traffic, how cold it'll be hence
...I can't pretend for long. A smile beams on my face
I burst into song as my heart starts to race
I may be nearly an adult, but I'm still a child at core
The Host fades into his grin, triumphant once more
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-host.html
Humans have always had the potential to impact the earth
Either to celebrate and elevate it, or damage it beyond repair
For some reason they seem to like to chose the latter
They've caused great wars due to disagreement
Radiation makes some islands untouchable
Punched a hole right in the atmosphere
And wiped countless species from the planet
So many species.
So many cries and sounds never to be known
Hunted for sport, food, curiosity, or because they didn't know better
Given how many species they made leave this world
It seems curious it took us so long when they were tying to
One species, whose eradication took so long
Caused celebration amongst the humans that hadn't been seen before
Was this just their bloodlust showing through? (again)
Not quite. In 1980, WHO declared smallpox eradicated.
They had destroyed a whole disease.
And now. It looks like they may be close again.
Loosing part of the Earth is not often something to celebrate
But this time, I'm going to join in with those humans
Cheering the use of destructive powers for good, once more.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/01/humanity-great-killer.html
So, very recently, I think I might have realised a purpose.
Don't worry, it's ridiculous beyond measure.
Soon I'll realise that and join the rest of humanity without one
After all, the search is almost certainly the bit with most interest and pleasure.
But, it hasn't escaped my notice that I've been lucky.
That certain decisions have gone my way
That life has thrown me pre-made lemonade
A folding table to sell it on, nice weather to sell it in (at least, on a typical day).
So, I'm getting suspicious
I've done nothing to deserve this
I've been kind to others where I can, but I'm certain
There are other, kinder souls whom life never deals nice hands, fate never blows a kiss
Why then. What is the cause of this?
I think I might know. See, I've never given into vice. And I ponder.
I don't know how I'd handle addiction, because I've never gone near any
But casual multiverse theory research makes me wonder
About the other me
See, if you believe in redemption on earth,
You believe that your life could have been better
But you screwed up somehow since birth
My life has been too kind
I could have done better, but my circumstance couldn't have been kinder at all
I'm not sure I could be blessed better than those I know
I'm waiting for pride to give me a fall
And I think it might be this
That in some dingy alleyway
The me that started drinking, and was unable to cope with addiction
The me that fell harder
That never had people to inspire him
That circumstance was never kind to
The me that so easily could have been
That other me is going to see into this world. The one that could have been.
He'll see what I've become, and wonder (like I do) how on Earth life could have turned out as it did.
Then our universe will snap away as the other me finally vows to sort his life out.
If Hollywood has taught me anything, it's that destiny loves an underdog kid.
As the purpose of our multiverse is fulfilled and ended
I wish him best of luck this night
That other me, so far away
But I'm not going down that easily without a fight
See, if I can keep screwing up just enough
I can stop myself from being that motivation
Our universe can keep going, if I can make myself tough
It may seem unusual to be avoiding your purpose in the world
But, hey, it's mine. It's the only one I get to decide.
And it might just give you the time to let your own destiny unfurl.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/01/my-purpose.html
Curse this world, if you will
That is all too understandable and I do not blame you,
This world is known to be unkind
But yet I ask of you this
You may scream at the skies
It has brought naught but grey days
And overcast reality itself with shadows
But yet I ask of you this
Cast devilments at circumstance,
Chance alone should not lead to so a disparaging destiny
As the one seemingly in existence
But yet I ask of you this
Profess profanities at life for what it's been up to lately
For life itself seems to be struggling to keep up with itself,
And is patching up the mismatches badly
But yet I ask of you this
But yet I ask of you this most difficult of tasks
Please, I beg of you, do not curse, scream, cast devilments or profess profanities at those flawed little beings that call themselves human
They understand so little and are trying their best to find purpose
Toiling to make it to the next time this harsh world allows them to rest
They struggle day by day, against different pasts and different presents
When you finally realise all that those fatigued beings have been through
You will know there is nothing any of them should need, save kindness
This I ask you give them
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/01/curse-this-world-if-you-will.html
She'd was both cute and dangerous, and gosh darn did she know it
She'd inspired lovers and labourers, adventures and poets
Not a soul in this world or the next could resist her charms
Let me explain to stop you being vexed and maybe save you from harm
The most transient and beautiful thing, well after life herself see
She'd overthrown more kings than the oracles at Delphi
Her true name is unknown, she's a Goddess in most culture
She helps Fate be sewn, is more persistent than the vulture
She is bedfellows with Destiny, touching the vestibule of hearts of many a lover
Employed tirelessly to make it irresistible to you when you meet your other
That love is not always requited, yet no known person had found a way to refuse
My determination alighted, I made a pilgrimage to the being known as Muse
As a poet in training, I felt it just a part of my learning
My heart should be paining so my skill could be earning
Following the footsteps of Shakespeare, Byron and Keats
Though it was patently clear this path had witnessed many fantastic feets
I drew closer to her throne, thanking of the travesties she'd help cause
Her will was her's alone, and her history gave me pause
She'd caused hearts to break and strive, thrown men from many a cliff
Though through some she became alive, yet others she made lay stiff
My feet took me to hers, and I stared at her in awe
That I could infer one so great could ever be a flaw!
That I could ever have doubted her heart, it put me to shame
The only being worthy of the great Art done in her name
This Being too influential to deny, so beauteous to behold
She would be my path to the sky, as my sense took hold
I remember her danger. I come to sense as I linger
Deciding to stay a stranger, I showed the great Muse the finger
I walked alone long and friendless down the path I once came
Though it seemed sometimes endless, not once I felt shame
While I may have no Muse to aid my poems and writing
I hope to still amuse and, just maybe, sometimes be enlightening
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/01/a-muse.html
new year, new aims.
new life, new games.
strategy changing
while staying the same
welcome to the new age
same paper different page
new life, new bird
nearly out of the cage
so here's the deal
I can now reveal
let me be clear
and let me be real
I'm not yet at my best
my life is a mess
I want to improve
I want to progress
yet somebody told me
quite patiently
I'm hard to give advice
I like their honesty
so from now
somehow
I'll listen better
even if time doesn't allow
lend sympathetic ear
actually start to hear
not just wait to talk
be happy right here
to summarise this letter
for any risky bettor
I'm going to try my best
to listen better
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/01/my-resolution.html
Dear Thomas, cat
I know I talk to you all the time, but sometimes I don't feel like you can understand me
So I thought I'd try to pursue the process of communication somewhat more formally
Cause I know that although you do turn to me when I say your name each day
Do you really know it refers to you, or do you just think it means "hey"?
Dear Thomas, cat
I've known you since we were young, and we've both grown old together
We both confuse the parents with the amount of time we like spending in bad weather
We're both the most energetic and sleepy people anyone could ever meet
When playing games we can both sometimes struggle to admit defeat
Dear Thomas, cat
Do you actually enjoy it when I scratch you and stroke your fur
You certainly seem to approach something approximating a smile and a purr
We've had special games which nearly always involve you trying to catch something I try to whip away
I estimate your expression is contempt when I prod you with something if you don't (but I do) want to play
Dear Thomas, cat
It's kind of long-winded, but what I'm trying to get at in some way is this
It's a habit of mine and your other pets to try to build up a narrative about you while you exist
We try to work out when you're happy, hungry, going out or feeling great
But this game has had to become a slightly darker one of late
Dear Thomas, cat
You were given 6 weeks to live. You're now on 40 weeks and still going
And I'm trying desperately to work out what emotions you are showing
Your face is contorted. Your tongue hangs out. You dribble on every floor
It seems like the cancer must be hurting you. Causing pain, discomfort and more.
Dear Thomas, cat
I want to imagine you're a fighter. I have this great image in my mind
Of you striking back at this disease, a victory for all cat-kind
You do seem happy to see us still. I know this is merely the image I project
But while you're still seeming to smile and purr, I guess we'll assume you're happy to struggle on for just a little while yet.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/12/dear-thomas-cat.html
She's not fully human. At least not any more.
Not since involuntarily gave up a finger or four
And the rest of her hand, her thumb and her palm
Her wrist, elbow and shoulder - but please remain calm
For she means you no harm. For they built her anew
A limb to replace where she once had too few
Not fully flesh, she calls herself cyborg with a gleam
While brightly her arm reflects the smile of a sunbeam
"It's fantastic" she'd say "I'd recommend the experience
Loosing a limb is a testament to my stronger limbs' perseverance
I've got rid of the weak, only the better remain
And look I got to replace where I once had to feel pain"
It's shiny, though slightly dulled from substantial use
From having being subjected lovingly to generous abuse
It can't do everything a human arm can, but also vice-versa
She has strength she never had before - they call her "bear" or "ursa"
But this girl ain't stuck in the constellations, quite the reverse
She's loving life on earth with her gift, and never calls it a curse
And feels nothing but confusion, is even saddened slightly
When others express sympathy, of course doing so politely
"Think of all the things she'll never do. The sensations she wont enjoy.
Think how isolated she'll feel when she holds hands with a boy
She can't knit or crochet, can hardly catch a ball
It's painful to watch her eat, how does she enjoy life at all?"
And these words do annoy her, partially the obvious assumption
But mostly because she feels she has no problem with consumption
She worked hard for straight months to practice technique
Enjoying the challenge of every new skill she should seek
They don't see, can't see, how her life could be better now
The admire her bravery, without seeing it's genuine somehow
And if offered the chance to switch back? She'd know right away
She'd still be the cyborg. She prefers it this way.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/12/freeform-cyborg.html
There are some people who just can't help but leave a mark when you meet them
Leave etches on your memories you can never delete and
Remind you of the other in the earth, those in the planet but not of the same
There are those always in the picture and then there are those that chose the frame
I tell you this so you understand just how special this wise wizened lady was to me
Standing before me voiceless at 5ft3
She'd lived life to it's fullest, never dreaming just doing
Reminding you of how much life you should be pursuing
If she had a tongue she'd curse me for hanging around such an old hack
She'd long ago lost her voice yelling at life to take its lemons back
You ask how I knew without voice this women's great heart?
It's simple. Her entire body was art.
To preserve moments of her life she'd sketched them on her skin
Never one to keep people out or hold feelings in
She was open and honest, she'd tattooed the good and the bad
A tattoo of a young boy, underlined by two dates, of the child she had had.
There was a list of lovers, each with a rating out of ten
There was her Mother's birthday, which she'd once forgotten. Tattoed to never forget again.
There was a world map, coloured in for places she'd been
Her back held the message of "a place I've never seen"
She had hearts and tears, but each held a purpose
This old lady before me, full of art that to anyone else would be worthless
But she was more than her skin. More than just colours and ink swirled.
This lady had become her own tattoo and applied herself the world.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/12/freeform-tattoos.html
Yo. I'm the circle in the square
The odd guy over there.
I'm the monster in the closet so you'd better beware
But maybe I'm being unfair
So let me say what I mean and you can see if you care
I know I can seem all confident and full of vigour
But that doesn't mean I don't assume people snigger
Behind my back
About social skills I lack
Things others were taught but for me fell through the crack
Is it right, is it fair, is it honest, is it true?
What do they say about me? What could I do?
I've never known if I'm cool or not
Never known if others consider me hot
All I know is there's no social awkwardness I've caused that I've ever forgot
I can assume it's normal, but never really know
Is this social anxiety natural? Can it really be though?
Don't get me wrong. I love to chat and meet people I haven't met before
But when I think of what they must think of me I head to the door
Not wanting to plague them with my presence any more
I've been called unusual. I've been called weird.
I've been outed and laughed at, but I don't think ever feared.
I'm the butt of many jokes, The stereotypical guy.
The one who is seen as all surface and no inner, but why?
I guess that's just how it goes. And why that is, man, no one knows.
Just know this
I do feel awkward
I do wonder what people think of me.
I'm aware it's probably not much
And if it is much, it's probably not good.
But I don't really mind.
Just know I've yet to meet someone I dislike.
And, if you are happy talking to me
I'm happy to stay a little longer and chat with you.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/12/freeform-circle-in-square.html
Thank sinking feeling when you know you've messed up is never nice.
I should know. I've messed up a few times myself. Ok, more than a few.
That's not hyperbole, that's me counting past my fingers.
And I know it's not easy to admit, it never is
So, what I'm going to do is take you through a couple scenarios
And let you see what you should do from now.
In the first scenario, you own up
Yes, I know it isn't easy. But what else can you do?
Knuckle up. Grit your teeth. Clench your hand into a fist if it helps.
Apologise for the world to see.
You are flawed. But you aren't flawed enough to hide.
You may get some flack for this.
This road ain't easy. No one said it was.
But it's an option.
In the second scenario, you just continue on.
Man, that's tempting isn't it?
And yes, it's a genuine possibility.
No one has to live with your mistake except you.
Sure, maybe you insulted someone.
Maybe you forgot a favour
But in the end, you could just live with knowing the person who does those things?
That person is you.
And all you have do is not put in the effort to do otherwise.
The best thing? This is easier the more you do it.
Take this road once and it'll be easier the next time, I assure you.
...
It takes a lot of effort to be a good human.
And being a good human doesn't mean you are never wrong. I think.
It means taking time to realise that you can be
It means that bettering yourself requires acknowledging the parts of yourself that are worse.
And so often I've wanted to take the easy path.
Some day, I would like to meet the me that took it.
But for now. Man, for now?
I'm sorry. I screwed up. In advance for next time if I haven't to you yet already.
Just let me know. And I'm sorry if I'm bitter at first. Because I don't deal with it well.
Just rest assured, even if it takes time.
I will deal with it
If only so I can kid myself into pretending to be a good human a little longer.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/11/remember-admit-your-mistakes.html
This is 2 minutes of silence, 2 minutes to actually think
I relish in this quiet and let my thoughts start to sink
No one can control what goes through your mind
Here is 2 minutes worth of what you may find in mine
What is this for? Ah, that's right, I know
To remember a war from long long ago
A war we thought was fought for good reason
A war where not to fight was treason
It was fought by many
And yes they fought well
Those boys my age or less
They all went through hell
Not all, but some noble
Not all, but some kind
Not all, but some aware
Nor all, but some of sound mind
All of them fought in this war to end all wars
All wars since have just been peacekeeping missions
Even if I disagree with the fighting,
I have to admire their courage and ambition
As I do those who stood up
Saying they would not fight
It was a different bravery
306 executed for doing what they believed right
I know picking sides and saying who is right or wrong is a fool's errand
I know life isn't black or white, but far too often stained with red
So while I still am uneasy with propaganda, patriotic jingo and the means to war's end
Rest assured that in my 2 minutes, I still remember and honour the dead.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/11/remember-2-minutes-of-silence.html
Remember remember the 5th of November
Remember remember the 5th of November
Remember remember the 5th of November
But why?
See I remember the fireworks from my childhood
I remember the colours making me feel good
I remember the bonfire and the crackling wood
I remember the sparklers, but not the spark I should
See way back when, kicking it 17th century style
There'd be dissatisfaction, there had been for a while
People were screaming, every citizen a potential revolutionary
This unsettled the royal and his loyal powers that be
So they hatched a plot. The decided to conspire
That a plot would exist to set parliament on fire
But it would be foiled. There'd be no danger
Just the death of someone not them, an unknown stranger.
So the plan went forth on the fifth, and low and behold it succeeded
They'd got the scapegoat they so desperately needed
They took the luckless man, and set him alight
So is this what we should remember on bonfire night?
Nah. Not in my reckoning. You see just one king along
Nothing had been solved. Everything was still wrong.
Despite the best intentions, the best laid plans
The mice in power were thwarted man for man
Dissatisfaction can be abated. It can be delayed
But if the root is not tackled you may end up dismayed
So I remember this night as the great deadline extension
That still led to no cure. Nor further prevention.
That if you are granted a second chance
Be aware of the route down which you should advance
Don't trust the hand of lady luck so blindly
Remember the second time she might not deal you so kindly.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/11/remember-fifth.html
She was the watcher. That was all that she did
She would watch the world without interaction
It's all she'd done since she was a kid
It would've been all she'd do until death
But I, I sought out and met the watcher in person
I wanted to discuss great things
They marvels she'd seen, but also her aversion
To going out and experiencing the world
"Will you not come with me?" I near begged at her side
But not because of her beauty or looks
You've been cooped up too long watching from inside
The earth is there for all to enjoy
She looked at me, and gave a wise, tired sigh
"I would like nothing more than to explore with you
But I stay here for a reason, and you must understand why"
I waited so I could hear what she would say
"The world is more beautiful than you could possibly realise
I have seen thing no others ever will
But these memories no exist no place but behind my eyes
I could not stand them to vanish if I would go
Life and all in it is temporary
It is fleeting and transient at best
So I must stay to hold it my memory
To let it last. To let it live, if just a little while more.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/remember-watcher.html
And I rose.
I wove jovially at the odd collection of individuals around me
The pillow of air bellowed out below swallowing all I could see
A transparent bubble of separation giving an indication of reality
The untouchable. The others. The ever further away.
I was swept into the aether as it took me where it may.
And I rose.
Going up now, going up ever ever higher
I was excited, yet only via aid I could even respire
My mind was raised up, up, up to a scene to inspire
And I had to admire the entire collage of colours collect
Though nature has her faults you have to acknowledge her palette
And I rose.
I danced on clouds since up until now in life I'd had to refrain
I spread my arms and pretended I was an aeroplane
And I looked down at the ground, that refuge of the sane
As it grew smaller and smaller, and grew a horizon
As the earth shrunk my landscapes widened and wizened
And I rose.
Here from the edge of space everything looks so small
The boundaries blur as if they were nothing at all
I rose from the politics, the arguing, the discriminating, the brawl
And it was only so far away that I finally did know
I didn't want to return back. I didn't want to go.
And I fell
I would be safe. I would be secure
My own little bubble would still be so pure
But still I had to wonder how I'd endure
Knowing how fragile, and how small we are
How I could live among the ants I had once seen from afar.
Inspired by someone going really high into the atmosphere and then not being so high - http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/25/science/alan-eustace-jumps-from-stratosphere-breaking-felix-baumgartners-world-record.html
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/space-rising-up.html
Alright, sit back and settle in.
Let me describe how your evening has gone so far.
A good friend of yours has dragged you along to a party.
He's currently trying to stand up while chatting to a girl in the corner. He's having about equal success at both.
That leaves you alone.
The party itself is decent. The drinks are about the right level of cheapness. The house has just less seating space than is ideal. So far not one person has started a fight or thrown up on themselves.
It's kind of dull to be honest but you're fine with that. You've had a bit too much excitement recently. I'll leave it up to you as to whether you were the cause of the excitement.
You've tried chatting to a few people. Nearly everyone else is either in the wrong type of investment banking for you, or too keen to talk about people they've known. You've been talking with other people about other other people a long time, for so long you're not really sure if these others really exist.
You look at your watch and decide it's just too early to leave, yet. You don't mind going without your friend (he's fully occupied after all), but you've just never imagined yourself as being the first to leave a party. You want to make one last go at conversation.
Then, you find them. And by them, I mean the person you've been unknowingly looking for all party. The one you actually sort of don't mind hanging around for more than 5 minutes.
"Hi!"
"Hi."
You can tell it's going well so far.
You follow with a "How are you?", and then it turns to "How have you been?" and you start fantasizing with them about "How will you be?". Without really trying, you're talking. It could be there's something more there but for the most part you're just so happy to be finding out about someone, and discovering they're someone it's worth finding out about.
You glance down at your phone - not (for once) to check your messages but just to see how long you've been there. It would now be more than acceptable for you this to call this a good night, try to find your friend and stagger home with him. But you don't want to, not yet. Just thinking about it makes your brain freeze. And I don't mean time stands still, no, time is very much moving about the very stationary you.
They look straight into your eyes, possibly with a hint of concern (and it seems like genuine concern, as much as anyone does care for each other at these parties). They ask if you're ok.
And you're just sitting there, begging your mind to come up with something.
This is it. The s p a c e.
This is where you decide what it's all about.
What does this conversation mean to you?
Does it mean anything at all? Will it just stand out as a good night in your mind, a meaningful highlight that there are real people in this world.
Does the person in front of you mean anything to you? How much talking have they been doing? God, has it just been you rambling on so far? You'd been so engrossed in the conversation you hadn't thought to check.
Is it love? Or is it a genuine friendship? (After all, falling in love happens every night for some people but finding a good friend is something not worth ignoring either). Or is it just you desperate for companionship at this dull party.
Why are you not saying anything? Come on.
At what, I'm not quite sure, but your chance at something. Something more than anything else that's gone on so far.
You can see them glance away. And you see why.
The friend you came with has managed to start a fight with himself.
With a sigh, you get up and make your excuses. You ask them to hold on, promising you'll be back and hoping you aren't lying. Sadly, it turns out you are.
Full version - http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/space-gap-in-conversation.html
I'm always kind of amused, whenever I find myself on stage.
Of all the emotions I feel, it's never fear or rage
I never want to strike out. I never want to hide
Just a curiosity. To find out what is inside.
See, I'm placed here before you all today.
All 6tf1 of post-teenage angst and decay
All of you see me, standing right here
All of you waiting for me. And I don't fear
See, some people get stage fright, that was never my scene
Others get an audience in sight and shout words that're obscene
I've known a man or two who sees a crowd and loves the attention
But my reaction is one that's just of my own invention
You are all sitting down there, trying to make a decision
What sort of person I am, am I worthy of derision
What am I saying, thinking, and about to do
Here's what you don't realise: I'm deciding the same about you
See, my own dull mind is the only one I know
It's quite spacious in there, it's not a fun place to go
But other people's minds? That's a wholly different tale
So leave me some breadcrumbs and I'll follow your trail
What are all of you odd little creatures thinking of in the space behind your eyes
What images are playing, what is the purpose which causes you to rise
How do you think? How do you see colours? How do you do?
If I see a thing do you see the same thing too?
Do you really think behind those eyes, or are you just put here to deceive me
But mostly what I want to know is are you willing to receive me
As a performer, after all I'm up here on stage to put on a show
So what I really want to know, is should I stay or should I go?
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/space-space-inside.html
You may not know, but earth gets a regular visitor.
And I mean regular, as in, with regularity.
It's far from a common occurrence
But, well, I like to imagine there's a purpose to the visit.
That, far far away, a grand council of others spotted this planet
That they saw it developing, so young as it then was.
And, for the purposes of science and stories
The decided that, every 3 generations, they would monitor our progress
And then they waited
They would have seen so much in our time.
I'd like to think they applauded the young man
The one who, only seeing their comet once, realised the pattern
That they watched, possibly unable to help, as we delved further into war
That these watchers note carefully the steps we've made
That they can see us start to stare up at them
That they let us grow
They watched us be slow
And then
They visited in 1910. And the world was starting to turn.
We'd blackened the land so we could travel it faster
We'd explored the world so we could command it
We had progressed for personal gain
Then, in 1986, they visited again. And the world had turned many times.
They'd seen the greatest period of peace in history
They'd seen us learn to communicate across the seas
They saw that we had finally started to explore beyond earth
Yet they will visit again. They always do
In 2061, the comet will fly by again
The earth will have turned many more times
And I wonder what the watchers will see
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/space-halleys-comet.html
I hate this first bit.
Always have, always will
Never quite enjoyed this thrill
A clench of fists, my teeth grit
The countdown begins
I do a check - I've got my things
The safety announcement
Please lift up your cabin trays
Check how to exit on the displays
Departure is now imminent
I strap in real tight, fumbling
I can hear the engines rumbling
This trip is quite short
Due to last a mere two days
Which seems a long way aways
As my mind is on just one thought
I must stay conscious, I must
The engines start their thrust
I feel as if I'm dying
This is a slow but powerful course
I try to withstand the G-Force
And then we are flying
I have overcome my fear
My reward for consciousness is clear
All around me, space
The wonders of the galaxy come into view
In utmost clarity, vast and true
Yet mine is the only wondered face
Some glance briefly, the universe quickly seen
Others look not at all, this trip is routine
I am always sad when I realise
That humanity can so quickly be bored
With that which our discoveries grant accord
But then I see another set of glimmering eyes
The small girl next to me, staring out into forever
I squeeze her hand and we stare, together.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/10/space-flight.html
There is no more beautiful or treacherous pleasure to indulge in as a man than to enjoy crying
To let emotion pour from you, your face dripping with the betrayal of what society demands
For once, you can be honest.
For once, you can not hide.
Most of the time, we have to bottle up our tears
Drink them down with the rest of our sorrows
Tattoo them on the inside of our eyelids
So that only when we blink do we wash away the mask and see ourselves clearly
Trying so very hard to emotionally barricade the first tear in
But once the breach is made, all internal defences are voluntarily taken down
And, sitting there in a pool of utmost clarity
Know that this, this can only be a merely temporary transparency
But for now, while the taste of salt on tongue is fresh
Before people scold and make fun for not being a man, before rejoining the anti-emotion mob
This ephemeral feast for one will provide a little nourishment
To help build this human into a man once more
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/09/new-words-ephemera-or-honest-tears.html
I've got a little tip for you
It's how to perk yourself up, when you need to
It wont get you to elated levels of exuberance
To be described as someone consumed with ebullience
Rather quaintly, its just a little tip
Some small advice, an oddly trick
So let me get to it, I've been rambling a while
It's known some parts as the two part smile
First smile small, don't show your teeth
And hold your breath, this part is brief
Then exhale, and go full cheer
Show your happiness, then never fear
You'll find yourself elated a little, at least it works for me
It's not much. But may it make you just a small amount more happy.
Ebullience - The quality of being cheerful and full of energy; exuberance.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/09/new-words-ebullience.html
Listen up, as I help you:
Remove the dichotomy
Lose the lobotomy
And stop your world view from shrinking
Despite the polarity
Realise that contrariety
Does not only equal two ways of thinking
Alright, let's rewind it back a little
When I was just a young cur
As most of us once were
I would struggle to see more than two sides
So when I'd want an opposition
My natural disposition
Was to take the first position I realised
And then not think any further
Let me provide an example
Just a little small sample
Of the type of thinking that used to vex me
See I saw on television
The nauseating preposition
That was life was only worth living if you're sexy
So what did I do?
Now, not to come on strong
But this was clearly wrong
So I decided that life should be blander
That each and every person
Should have a natural aversion
To this clearly incorrect propaganda
So what did I miss?
As I only heard one voice
I didn't realise the choice
That I could just give people the option
I shouldn't force others to display
That people should choose their own way
And select own mindset for adoption
The lesson from this?
I took time to realise
I'd become what I despise
By forcing others into my point of view
There is always at least 3 criteria
But then, giving me hysteria
I realised there could even be a forth option too...
dichotomy: a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/09/new-words-dichotomy.html
Sometimes, I want to strike out
And I want an opponent too
I want them to know exactly what I'm about
As I strike them with the old one-two
Yes, my friends, the one two classic.
If you haven't heard of it let me explain
The move is so old it's practically Jurassic
To cause both types of pain
You start with the verbal retort
To render them confused and stunned
Then you come out physical, to end their thought
And show them they've been completely out-gunned
Recumbentibuses, we're talking in plural
Because just one knock out ain't enough
Back them up against the wall then turn them into a mural
Cause you're made of the tougher stuff
At least, I fantasise about that a short while
Then I realise and I'm back to reality
I don't want to hit people, just make them smile
Except for in my wildest fantasy
Recumbentibus: A knock out word, verbal or physical
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/09/new-words-recumbentibus.html
In august 2014, I wrote a story over the month. I wrote a fresh one every 2/3 days, 11 in total. I didn't really feel like changing my recording schedule, so I've combined it all together since it felt more like one long poem anyway.
Sadly, it's over the character limit for my posts. So here's the prologue, you can find the rest through the link (or by listening to the podcast).
Story: In which our story has a PrologueThere are a lot of tales in this world.
But not that many actually worth listening to,
And far fewer worth retelling.
Particularly for those whose business it is to do so.
Myself, I knew a tale or two I think you'd retell.
But which one, which one to choose?
Hmm, I apologise, but a few seconds are needed.
The choice of which story to allow to the world is not one to take lightly.
Let's see. I can't tell that one. Not if you want to sleep tonight
And this one?
No. The wounds haven't yet healed.
But, wait, thisstory right here? Hmm.
I guess I could. But you must promise to be careful with it
Now, get yourself comfortable.
Because, this world right now is to be on
In which a story is told.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/08/story-in-which-tale-is-told.html
It's 1900, and the seed, carried by the wind from its parent, finally finds a home in the soil and take route.
It's 1901, Queen Victoria has just died.
The British empire spans most of the globe.
The first Nobel prize is awarded.
The tree is one years old, and not very tall.
It's 1914, World War is declared.
The entirety of the world is up in arms.
Humanity gambles with its own extinction for the first time
The tree is 14 years old, and the tree has leaves.
It's 1945, The second World War is ended
Humanity enters a cold war of fear
A global mindset is present in all
And the tree is nearly a half century old.
It's 1969, Humanity lands on the moon
It reaches up above the sky
And climbs even higher
The tree is 69 years old, and has just climbed above the canopy.
It's 2000, Humanity celebrates a Millennium
Celebrates surviving y2k, a bug of it's own design
And celebrates the advances of a century
The tree is 100 years old, and still standing tall
It's 2014. A young boy comes across a tree among many
The tree was here before him, and will be here after him
The world has moved fast around it
But, just for now, this part of humanity stops to rest with the tree.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/age-this-tree.html
In case you weren't aware, my Dad is old.
It's not his, fault. He's been old since I was born.
But back then he was only old.
Now he's old. Like, he's now nearly 50 old.
And, even though I haven't been around for much of it,
I feel like I added at least half of those myself.
Multiply that by 3 extra siblings,
And you might finally understand how my Dad is wiser and wearier than his years.
Alright, let me back up a bit.
My oldest brother was born when my Dad was two years from my present
And three years past from my brother right now
So maybe he wasn't always so old.
But he's certainly old right now.
Despite his love of Pixar
Despite the way he acts around cats
And, well, ok, maybe he doesn't act that old.
Wait, what am I saying?
Ok, let me get on solid ground.
My Dad has been old throughout my life, and, from what I can tell, all of his too.
But that isn't the only thing he's been
He's been a constant force of motivation
While allowing me the freedom to pursue routes he may not think best.
He's been there to guide my taste in books
Even while not being 100% at guiding my taste in music
He's helped encourage me to think for myself
He's been concerned for me, and helped me (sometimes) be concerned for myself
He's been there for meals, even when he's been busy
And, though I hate to admit it, he is rather good at puns.
In short, he's been the old person I needed in my life
Even though I realise now he's had to learn to be old as we go
And though I may slowly be reaching an age to pretend to be old myself
He will always be, my old man.
Happy 50th Dad,
Love Harry (the youngest one).
Happy 58th birthday Dad, from an 8 year old poem
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/age-my-dad-is-old.html
There's a lot of static in modern day life
On a frequency that we just don't tune to
But we catch little snippets and sentences
But don't usually focus long enough to realise
That's how it is for the news for me
I'll catch a story every once in a while
But the rest of the time it's just static
Impersonal. Uninteresting. Irrelevant.
"Today a young man in Liverpool went....Kids today I swear....The average taxpayer can expect....Exciting change in number ten....9 Britons died today.....The church of England has radical new policies....We'll bring you more on this as it happens".
And usually, I don't listen in for more.
Usually, it means nothing to me
Usually I'm quite content to let it happen
Because usually it doesn't affect me.
Until I find out it does. That it does affect me.
That it shouldn't. That statistically, I was safe.
That numbers and percentages are so small, they could be ignored
But some days, the numbers just aren't small enough.
I had a friend die in the MH17 Malaysia airlines plane crash.
I wasn't his closest friend. Even though it hurts, I wont be hurting the most from this.
There are people right now who need prayers and sympathy more than me
And I am going to give the every ounce of it I can muster.
I still feel pain. I know he was a good guy. I knew his smile.
Suddenly the news, read and written by people I will never meet becomes the most relevant thing in my life.
"Why aren't they mentioning him?" "Why are they talking about him, let him be".
I've read more news today than I have in a long time.
Because today, those statistics they're talking about, aren't just statistics.
Those statistics mean way more than they ever normally could.
Those statistics mean close friends of mine are crying, are sad, need someone to listen to them.
Today those statistics mean a friend has died.
God bless. To all of you, but to one guy especially.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/when-its-not-just-news.html
So, here's the thing. I'm just at the stage in my life where my decisions have just a bit more impact than I'm comfortable with. That what I decide to do now may just end up affecting the rest of my life. And, well, that's not the easiest thing in the world for me to deal with.
In a pre-mid-life crisis
The best advice
is to try not to panic and shout
So get on my page
As I preach from the stage
to tell you what it's all about
Time is a finite resource
So, quick! Decide your course
with what you've learnt already somehow
But each day you are given
Yet another decision
which will decide your life from now
Is your lust for money shameless
Do you want to be famous
and maybe end up in Hollywood
Do you want to make an impact
Or just live with the fact
you don't know what to do in adulthood
So now you are stressed
And I have to say I'm impressed
that you've held together thus far
So just take a quick break
Before you make a mistake
and I will try to make it seem less bizarre
Don't be scared to wander
To discover and ponder
and change course wherever you may desire
Uncertainty is no sin
And you are not caged in
unless you decide to create your own barbed wire
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/age-pre-mid-life-crisis.html
It was not a pretty conclusion I came to
But I had to concede that it was true
That I am a product of this day and age
That I didn't write the book of which I make my page
It really was painful to realise
That I would view the world with different eyes
That, were I born a hundred years prior
Being offended at misogyny would make me a liar
Were I in a different place and time,
I would most likely think slavery were not a crime
I might be homophobic, and I might be a soldier
No, this was not a nice realisation to shoulder
I may not have been these things of course
There are those in history who stood up to this force
But they were exceptional, and far from the rule
I must accept that, I most likely, would have been a fool
So now, if chatting with a gentleman of a different era
If he makes an off-colour jest I don't shout his error
I don't condone, or condemn, but try to understand
While letting him know why the joke didn't go as planned
For one day I to may be making jest at fault
Not realising my utterances as pure insult
I will try not to, for this is my crime
I, like most of us, am just a man of my time.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/age-to-which-i-belong.html
I don't want to be young again.
I don't want to be young again,
because I try not to forget there were bad things about being young
To have to still be doing work I don't care for
To still be embarrassed about not getting drunk
To be ashamed to develop talents
To have to relive teenage mood swings
To not yet be really thinking for myself.
Yeah, I don't really want to be young again,
because I'd have to undo so much of my life
I'd have to un-meet so many good friends
To re-spend all those hours working hard
To have to forget so many memories
To be bored for all those hours
While I may not have a spare moment these days, I think I like it that way
Because, honestly, the reason I don't want to be young again
Is because, even though I know 21 is still young, when I start wanting to be younger, I stop wanting to get older
If I feel like my best days are behind me
If I add a rose-tinted filter to all days past
Then I would probably stop trying right now.
Part of me does want to be young again
But much more of me wants to find out what happens next.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/07/age-to-be-young-again.html
This is dedicated to labour without gain
To labouring with pain
Even as it all still feels the same
And going on sans shame
With neither result nor fame
To the psychiatrist, trying day after day
To cure a patient, to get through some way
To the teacher working to break though to a kid
Even if just trying the same thing they already did
To the benched athlete, trying to improve his skill
To the struggling painter who is painting still
To the addict trying to attend rehab again
Yes this is dedicated to labour without gain
For it's the labour without gain, that leads to success
It's when you know you're fighting for nothing and finally confess
That's when you're free, to labour on and on
Because that labour may have been for something all along
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/06/labour-labour-without-gain.html
**There's a mythology around last words They supposedly have more impact than all others The parting imprint we impart on those about to depart Whether they're the last words of life or last words to an ex-lover
How can a few words sum up All the experiences that have gone before Whenever I've found myself saying last words I always want just a few last words more
Right now, I want to talk about and to each one of you In turn, saying how you've made my time here unique How you've encouraged, supported, assisted me and all others And helped one another when someone's struggling that week
This community of individuals is simply outstanding The time you've all sacrificed to help others go far The things we've done, the people we've known These are the things that define who we are
I don't know what my last words are gonna be But know that my last words to you are simply this I hope these are not my last words to you. Don't grow old without me. I love you all. There's not one of you that I'm not gonna miss**
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/06/off-topic-last-words.html
context: this is the poem I wrote and performed for a valediction service (normal language - leavers assembly) for the people in my year at Mansfield College who were leaving.
I'm stuck in a rut, and this rut is sticky
No signs of escape to roads out of this city
I'm just paying my dues from a bankrupt account
Struggling to earn enough capital letters to spell it out
This repetition has become it's own deja vu
A copy of a copy of not knowing what to do
So I'm though. I'm not gonna take it no more.
Wait, did you like that? Let me do an encore.
I'm sick to death of this illness
Viruses up to my irises yet I'm not feeling fulfillness
So I'll fill myself with whatever facts I feel belong
Did you know that what you know is known to be wrong
I find comfort in that, so I settle down in an armchair
Made of whatever nice half-truths that I happened to find there
I lay them around me as a protective thought
So you can try to batter through while I cook you up a treat
You'd better not harden up else you wont take the heat
I kidding of course,
Let me open up a discourse,
I've been working tough,
But I think I've worked enough,
So if you'll humour me
And wait patiently
I've got one last job to do
Until I break through...
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/06/labour-keep-working.html
When I dream, I dream of stars and rainbows.
I dream of flying to distant lands and fighting pirates
I dream of worlds I don't live in.
I live here, why would I dream about it as well?
I don't dream about what product I can sell
I don't dream about where my life is heading
I'm sure I will, but while I'm not dreaming yet
I don't mind following someone else's dreams for a while
But I want to follow someone whose dreams make me smile
Someone who wants to make the world a better place
Someone whose dream is of this world but still in colour
Someone who doesn't just dream of making more money
And I'm not writing this just to sound funny.
We have so limited time on this earth
Such little time to explore and influence the path of this rock
And I don't think I'm being unrealistic
I may be young, and I am idealistic
But I want to dream in this world someday to
Dreams are just a reflection of our surroundings after all
So I'm gonna follow a dreamer
Follow someone with plans: a schemer
Someone who dreams in ways others don't: a prophet
Someone who is, well, a human
Someone who doesn't just go with the capital flow
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/06/labour-dreams.html
While I was playing with magic objects one day
I came across a strange instrument indeed
I knocked it in a very particular way
And out of it some parchment was duly freed
It was scrunched, as though placed back in a rush
It had one big clear line, with disclaimers underlying
"View your future today!" was written in bold brush
"Though you can't change your future, except by dying"
It would be fantastic to know who I'm going to be
There's no doubt that we wonder about it each day
But a future set in stone was not to be for me
Having a definitive path was never my way
But it wasn't just that, you see I have a fear
Concerning exactly what I would hear
That my future is simply one of monotony
Such a curse would be like a lobotomy
That I would get a job earning more than I need
Focusing on the financial legacy I lead
Friends with whom I only talk small
Living a life that isn't a life at all
That I've given up my creativity
Laughing about my past efforts jovially
Becoming of the world, rather than being fascinated by it
Happy to just have a comfy home in which to sit
While I'm aware there are far worse fates I could uncover
Such a life is, I hope, not for me
May I have an interesting life, and then may I have another
Onwards onto uncertainty
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/05/personal-my-fear.html
I don't think people realise just how recently I've come out of my inner shell.
On the outside I was always sociable and interactive
I would always tell people about what I'd done. But never who I was
I've always held beliefs that I don't really talk about
For example, as a pacifist Christian, it's amazing how rarely I discuss these beliefs (possibly out of a desire to still have friends).
It's said by some that analogies are key for understanding
And there's one analogy that fits rather well
See, not many people have ever been in my room
When I was young, we didn't have people over much
My parents were blessed with 4 kids and boy did we bless them hard
So I never got in the habit of having friends visit me
Instead I would have to be invited to visit them
It just so happened my house was a bit offset from my close friends
So even when I was older, it was never my house things happened at
My home was just where I went to be with a busy family
Where I would lose myself in books for lack of anything else
When I got to uni, I was in the most isolated room
Just by chance, everyone else's room was more convenient
I decorated and put on a show, but still
No one really came to visit. And I never really asked them to.
I sort of didn't realise this was the case.
I'd decorate my room, be all presentable
Set up a chair in the corner for people to sit
Then never invite anyone to sit in it.
I'd like to think I'm different now
Just know that if I invite you back to my room
It's cause I want to get to know you better
And maybe chat a little.
I did not dance to please the crowds
No, I danced just for me
I danced hard and I danced loud
As I became the symphony
I danced because it filled in my veins
Because I felt the rhythm
I danced because it healed all pains
And closed up every schism
I danced to know I could dance at all
To marvel that my feet could tap in time
I danced because it made me tall
Even as the beat began to climb
I danced so the music could not fade
To ensure that not one note dropped
I danced because I was afraid
To what would happen if I ever stopped
And now I'm caught up in my tempo
I can't control the pace
And now you may call me yellow
But I don't want to leave this race
Because this dance may be my peak
The most beautiful thing I'll ever do
And now I dance because I'm weak
I dance because I can't bare not to
I dance because I see,
There will never be a second act
So wherever this dance may send me
I will dance it on, and that's a fact
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/05/personal-dancing.html
If I tell you I find you beautiful.
(Which I would absolutely love to by the way)
I mean just that.
That I think you are a beautiful human being.
And I don't just mean in physical beauty,
Though I definitely can't discount that.
I mean there is beauty in the way you talk
In the way you think, act, and walk.
I don't mean that I want to enter a relationship
I don't mean that I want to sleep with you
I don't mean anything else than that,
I don't mean anything else than that I find you beautiful.
See, I find everyone I meet beautiful.
I really wish that these were hyperbolic statements for artistic effect
I really wish they were symbolising me being a "charmer"
It would make my life so much easier
Then when I meet the next beautiful person
I can complement without connotations
Put a smile on their face and go on my way
Without people second-guessing motives
It's just the way I am.
I really do find humans beautiful. And all of them in their own special way.
Him and Her and all of Them and especially You. I mean it.
You are beautiful. And I mean exactly that.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/05/personal-i-find-you-attractive.html
Content Warning: self-harm
A lot of my life I spend confused. Not knowing what to do.
I would desperately love to have the answers to everything, but I just don't. Sometimes there are no right answers.
Sometimes this means I make a fool of myself. Those are the times I can deal with.
This is dedicated a friend who will likely never read this.
One skill I've wanted badly from a young age is to notice things other people don't. And if I did notice something I would then pretend that thing defines a person:
I want to notice the colour of your eyes, if you have dimples when you smile,
I want to notice, most of all, if you're having a bad day, so I can offer kind words so I can see if you have dimples again!
What I wasn't prepared to notice was your scars.
My mind jumps to a thousand conclusions, while concluding nothing.
I have to remind myself that I am not Sherlock. I can't tell your past.
All I know is that some scars don't heal, regardless of time.
All I know is that you are fighting.
I have never experienced anything like what you're going through.
I don't know if the fight is over or still raging.
I don't know why you started, or how it ends.
I want to talk to you about them, so I can offer help. But I know that's selfish, because I know you probably want nothing more than to forget they were ever there
So let me just say this.
If I am ever fortunate enough to become close friends with someone who has scars,
They will not be my close friend who has scars,
They will be my close friend.
If you want to take the fight alone, you can take it alone.
If you want to wear your scars with pride then ignore any prejudging moron who jumps to conclusions.
If you want to hide your scars because they aren't you then so be it.
If you are confused then be confused.
Just know that to me, those scars do not define you any more than the colour of your eyes
Any more than your dimples. They don't define you any more than a bad day
But if a bad day ever does turn up. As they sometimes do.
I just want you to know that I'm here. And I'll do my best to make you smile.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/05/personal-scars.html
Humanity needs to expand its mind
It's been doing so for quite a while
Looking for new experiences to find
New methods and techniques to trial
But to do so can be frightening
Intimidating to the average soul
For every experience they find enlightening
There'll be another to annul
We're certainly scared of straying a lot
Those fellows are just completely wild
Better to do something safe soon forgot
Experience a life more mild
It's by small differences that we gain our pride
It helps define who we are in essence
Helps us to be set a little aside
Gives us new life lessons
Straying from the path has it's own reward
Be it a run, jog, stride or hobble
But I ask you to stray a little as you go forward
Trust me, you'll be better for the trouble.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/04/honour-to-stray-little.html
There are no whole beings any more
No creatures who are fully intact
Some beings give away part of themselves to others
Entrusting them, even though the other may not be aware
A beautiful sign of how much they can care
Each reducing themselves to become more together
They are not broken by such actions
They are all together more wonderful by doing so
But others find that same act harder
Because it's possible to lose yourself without giving it away
It's possible to not know where part of a being has gone
Just that that part absent. Not here.
Somewhere far away yet oh so close.
Paralysed bodies preventing restoration of a piece within arm's reach
And then others talk of honour
Of how good it is to be whole
And they mean not to be vicious or callous, but there's no honour in a broken soul
They just don't understand. And have never had reason to.
Yet they might be hiding an absence themselves
It does not do to assume you alone are broken
For the beauty is not in keeping yourself whole for eternity
Yet nor is there romance in being a broken being
Life is for searching. For adding, subtracting, swapping and dividing.
Maybe growing a little bolder. Filling a couple gaps more than you create.
Not embracing the brokenness, but perhaps becoming a little more accepting of it
For you are your edges, curves and cracks all together
And then maybe, someday.
You can share some of your broken self with another. And they'll share their broken self back with you.
I don't have a great origin story.
Unlike most heroes, my story is kind of dull - I've had my powers since my birth.
Unless you'd consider most childbirth gory,
There's nothing to distinguish mine from every other child on Earth
I was personally tutored from a young age
Taught multiple types of Engineering, I could get degrees overnight
Though my education was not just based on the page
See it was considered compulsory for me to learn how to fight
And I was great at my crafts
I became one of the strongest superheroes ever known
To oppose me was considered daft
I was a king of fear, who wasn't even aware he had a throne
I had been blessed with many powers
Which meant that there was no equal to me on the streets
Yet I wondered for many any hour
If there would be something that would eventually lead me to defeat
I became introspective of my plight
I turned to studies in a way no hero has before
Mine was a different kind of fight
One no one could have dreamt would be in store
So I studied philosophy
Tried to work out the motive behind my actions
I studied psychology
Why heroes and villains would always be split into factions
I took a very bold decision
I talked to my nemeses, to all who opposed me
But I could never envision
The final result of my extended study
See, humans are a competitive race
We can't stand to be less good at anything than a rival
There's no greater insult than second place
So, with utmost certainty, I could predict the next great arrival
That if I kept on as I was
One would soon arrive who could match my strength
It would happen because
I'd cornered the enemy and hustled them at length
Either they gave up and went home
A rule of fear from my power controlling them at last
Or they would gather up every tome
To summon a rival, and they'd do it fast
So I made a choice
A final addition of the superhero coda
I summoned strength in my voice
And announced my heroing days as over
It was difficult
And draw so many criticisms and complaints
There grew cults
Worshipping me as Antichrist and saint
For I did not give my reason
I could not make the system self-aware
So my actions were simply treason
As for my motives, they didn't care
I still long for duty
I still long for such simple, straight forward solutions
Yet they'll never recruit me
My restraint must hold with resolution
The greatest act
That I'll ever do, with whom's legacy I am smitten
That I am in fact
The best hero, by being none, shall never be written
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/04/honour-honour-among-superheroes.html
What is honour?
Is it the respect of our peers that we've made good life decisions to get to the present point
Is it fighting our fears until we're no longer scared or put out of joint
Is there honour in seeking out pleasures we enjoy, even if others don't think we should be allowed
Is there honour in certain social restrictive measures, so that we fit in more with a crowd
Is the honour in self-sacrifice?
Is the honour in self-realisation?
Is the honour in giving others our advice?
Is the honour in patience and hesitation?
It is hoped we are perceived as honourable
That we are worthy of that high esteem
But we all hold different things as venerable
So it's hard to say exactly what honourable should mean
For myself, I believe honour to be with those who don't know
And admit willingly they still have much that needs to be learned
Who try to advance themselves, with no aim where to go
The lost but willing. That's where I see honour is earned
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/04/honour-what-is-honoura.html
The lines glows white on the pitch tonight
Not an open pass to be seen.
A tactic of isolation,
and it looks like a defence screen
The wind is howling its a swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in;
Heaven knows I've tried
Don't let them win,
don't let them D
You shouldn't twirl the disc don't let them see
Conceal, don't feel,
don't let them know
Well now they know
Let me throw, let me throw
Can't hold it back anymore
Let me throw, let me throw
Forced away and need to score
I don't care
what they're going to say
Let my dump rage on.
Playing D never bothered me anyway
It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the zone that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all
It's time to see what I can do
To test their forces and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me,
I'm free!
Let me throw, let me throw
The disc into the wind and sky
Let me throw, let me throw
You'll see my deep threat fly
Here I stand
And here I'll play
Let the dump rage on
My throw flurries through the air close to the ground
My disc is spiralling through those zone trials all around
The defence realises that it's just too fast
Its never coming back, its past them with a blast
Let me throw, let me throw
And it'll rise as the break is on
Let me throw, let me throw
That perfect curl is gone
Here I stand
In the field of play
Let the dump rage on
Playing D never bothered me anyway
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/bonus-let-me-throw-frozen-frisbee.html
It was one of those days where everyone remembers where they were when it happened.
The only difference between this and similar days is no one remembers where they were just before.
You'd be standing there, a day like any other you've lived recently
And then you'd forget exactly what you were standing there for.
Being akin to the universal feeling of momentary forgetfulness
You'd continue walking, hoping the situation would resolve a.s.a.p.
Nothing would come to mind though, as you'd walk further
Explanations would distort beyond a simple 'silly me'
You'd remember your name, and you're current state
You'd know who your friends were and how you felt about each one
You'd just have no idea about the experiences you'd shared
You'd forget each and everything you'd ever done
Humanity reacted unanimously in the same way
And after the chaos and glory of the following year
Life was restored to mostly normal
Or as normal as it ever really gets around here.
It was understandable though, the impulse with which we seized that year
We had the chance to re-make the fun mistakes we'd been forced to learn from as adults
The only rule for the whole year was that you weren't allowed to do anything important
As the world was no longer wise enough to deal with any catastrophic faults
Thankfully, the sewage system was fully automated, as was a surprising amount of everything else
Decay due to entropy definitely did occur, but it was not as bad as anyone had feared
Sure, there might have been a few extra fatalities, but it was fantastic for the most part
We explored ourselves and the world. Nostalgia would ensure this year was revered
We would remember with wonder the year that we forgot
With no one questioning if it was because there was something we needed to leave behind
No hints were left. We'd successfully wiped out all record of our past selves
Except a clock counting down. It's locking a sealed letter in a transparent safe. We can't wait to see what we'll find...
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/history-day-history-ended.html
Humanity often fails to admit that its past isn't great
We've become kinda lax with learning that of late
So lets rewind to the common ancestor we share with apes
To remind us how far we've come (as of this date)
It used to be simply survival of the fittest
And though it might seem painful to admit this
The selfish gene was our means to survive
Looking out for number one is what kept us alive
But then slowly, slowly, we started to adapt and change
We realised intelligence, and something most strange
That we were stronger as a community than we were alone
And thus the seeds of civilization were finally sewn
There was still an advantage to be at the top however
Thus bred global insecurities and personal paranoia
It is clear that fear is what drove those with power
Virtuous mercies and compassions were no norm that hour
Ethics and moralities developed so we could live together
It became within our interests to shelter others from bad weather
Still acting for personal gain, but now it's not quite the same
Because we advance from helping others without shame
Now we're getting around the present day
Arguing personal responsibility in various ways
That some people were just born to thrive
Competition and battle is what makes us strive
I'm not going to say whether or not that is true
But it's important we don't sacrifice progress we've gone through
There is a beauty in compassion not often told
So let me extrapolate how our future should unfold
Quite simply, continue linearly on our path
Learn to love one another so we can chat and laugh
Emphasise how working together is how we inspire
Because compassion is what elevates humanity higher.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/history-history-of-compassion.html
I am merely the sum of my own histories
I won't bore anyone with already done stories
But know that each hi-story narrates my tale of today
Which will add to the adjective of tomorrow in it's own special way
While this consciousness is nothing less that so many temporal transactions
Each decision that's each day given leads to more important reactions
Why I acknowledge I learnt from the college of my own fair past
It seems frivolous to learn a limitless syllabus I will never outlast
Yet in my squalor of a mind I'm a scholar (but will never be a graduate)
I search these historical tomes in my cerebral home so my writing elevates
As I write the transcript of my transit through this strange wide world
I feel like a passenger on a stage as I see each page unfurled
Life is quick it doesn't stick in one place
There's no limit to the range of the danger you can face
I am just one present who is meant to rely on what I've already done
My previous tales making up the details that makes me someone
Yet, following this trend this history is soon to end and go
To add to the scroll and make the whole of the me of tomorrow
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/history-personal-histories.html
It was the oddest encounter I'd had since my birth
Many years of research had led to this point you see.
But I finally managed to make my mark on humanity.
The first human to ever speak to the Earth
I wondered what on Earth the Earth would say
Would it critique for how we treated the environment?
Would it tell us the purpose for which humanity was meant?
Or would it make small talk then go on it's way?
Would it be impressed with all we've done?
The fact we've harnessed the Earth, to power our homes
The fact we've recorded our history, written at length in tomes
Or would it hate us with a rage of the Sun?
I said my greetings, and waited for the Earth to reply
In a deep slow voice, it spoke only a few words for our existence
"Oh, I thought I felt something. I have to say I admire your persistence
Well, best of luck. But don't get your hopes too high..."
It was then silent and I realised our vanity
We need the Earth, but we're not a symbiotic pair
It's not that it doesn't want to, but that it can't care
For such fleeting an instance as humanity
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/03/history-greatest-event-in-history.html
Ladies and Gentleman, what is love?
And don't worry, this ain't some bullshit hypothetical
From someone about to brag lyrical
About everything love has meant to him
No, this is genuinely a curious question of a stranger to the concept
Someone who's been told a thousand tales
Of how love can cure ten thousand ails
But never the contents of the ointment
Sure you can call me an unemotional husk of a human being
And you may be right but that doesn't mean I'm less curious
of that which people angrily search for until they're furious
Savagely tearing at their own absurd misconceptions of the small word
Is love just lust by another name?
But coated and quilted to look presentable
Pretending to be something it doesn't represent at all
A dark desire lifted as something to which to aspire
Some claim to have found it easily,
Without smugness but full right to feel that way
For achieving easily what will take some to the end of days
Who're wondering nought but what all the fuss was about
Or is it by definition undefinable by mere words?
Love is what it is, there's no clear map or directions
Just a collection of rumours and vague descriptions
And the journey is what makes you worthy
Ladies and Gentlemen, what is love?
Quite frankly I've no idea
And while I'm willing to learn - I'm still unclear
So here's to somehow finding out what exactly love is about.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/02/love-what-is-love.html
I'm a little bit socially awkward and estranged
Sometimes people view me as a bit forward and deranged
But that's because I'm not quite sure of myself you see
It might just be I unlock this Ace Lover in me
As it happens Ace Lovers are a special breed
They care deeply about your personal needs
About enjoying life as a whole together
About knowing life can be difficult to weather
Ace Lovers love but sometimes not in the way you might think
They long for true romance, sometimes from the bottom of a drink
But romance not with any other goal in mind
Merely to woe an other soul that they find
There is magic in the words and way they speak
There is beauty in the hearts of these freaks
It's not usual you see, almost seen as a mistake
For anyone to fall in love for falling in love's sake
They view no greater aim than being with their lover
For someone who cares you should long for no other
Yes they really are a peculiar but wonderful breed
What a beautiful thing is an Ace Lover indeed
See, I don't know if I'm an Ace Lover, but I know I've got potential
Don't know if it was the way I was raised, or if my genes were influential
But at least now you know what Ace Lovin's about
So if you're an Ace Lover let me here you shout
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/02/love-ace-lover.html
Dear Lover,
Though you're many miles away,
There's no one I hold closer to me than you
Though right now I can't hold your hand
You're still the one helping me pull through
Though when I wish you "good morning"
You may be wishing me back "good night"
Though you may be too far for me to see you
I assure you, you're still my light
The distance is far,
Sometimes it can feel too great
From the space between us,
You've seemed distant of late
Just know I'm holding on
Waiting for the day
When we've saved up the money
When we've found a way
To bridge the distance
The world has put between us
It feels like I've done wrong
Being punished for some crime
Yet we'll stitch up the gap
So well that it seems seemless
So that every time I do see you
We embrace again for the first time
Love, x
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/02/love-long-distance.html
When we make love, it'll be to the moon
It'll shine brightly, it'll almost swoon
The great celestial orb will look down on our pairing
So great are we even the moon is moved to caring
It'll see us there, and bless us with moonlight
So let us show our love to the moon tonight.
Mate, fuck the moon.
Fuck thinking you have to be beholden to a lump of rock in the sky
A rock that hides half the time and even then only ever shows half it's face
An oversized pebble that can only reflect the light and energy of others, and produce none itself.
I don't want to be like that. You and me shouldn't hide, even if times are dark.
And we should live off no light but our own.
When we make love, it'll be to the stars
They'll glitter gently from way afar
We'll draw dot to dot over the canvas of the sky
We'll make wishes on any stars that try to shoot by
So lay down with me, and lets take inspiration
Let us show our love among the constellations
Mate, fuck the stars.
Fuck those giant balls of fire hanging in space
That seem nice from afar, but burn any who get to close
Those pinpricks, so many light years away
I don't want to be that far away from you, or to be hurt if I get too close
We shall burn with our own brightness
When we make love, it'll be to the Earth
It'll bless us gently as we lie on it's turf
We'll spin with the planet as it revolves around us
If you listen close you can hear the rocks discuss
How they were made for us alone
So lets show our love on this Earthly stone
Mate, fuck the earth
Fuck this big ball of rock that cares not
We are insignificant to it, and rightly so
We do no matter to it at all, I can honestly say.
Although it may not seem much, you matter to me
We shall create our own world between us
When we make love, I want to express it in metaphors
I want all to realise that you are the one I adore
That the world shall be amazed by our creativity
And the love that is present in our imagery
To describe the love I feel for you
Lets make love like no one else could do
Mate, fuck metaphors
Fuck wordplay as a means of romance
I want to take action and explore this world with you
I want us to know reality, and embrace that for all it is
We don't need to exaggerate to show how in love we are
We shall create and be our own hyperbole.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/02/love-moon.html
I have a lot of voices in my head
And each one of these voices love the sound of their own
They keep bickering and chattering and jabbering and nattering
Until they turn to one tone
And all of these voice, they have one goal
To suggest what they think is best for me
The only problem with this simple fact is
Each one has a different priority
And there is a great myth
The most of all fantastic of lies
That there is one voice of truth
In that grey bit behind your eyes
That if you know which voice to follow
Then life will go perfectly in all you do
You'll make the right friends, do the right job
Naturally you'll charm the love of your life too
The only issue is, I don't believe this one bit
It would be so nice if this were a fact
If it were, the choice would be so simple
Yet I believe it requires more tact
There is not one voice for good and one for evil
Because that would be a simple choice
Life is not like that, it's much more chaotic
Than to be able to follow one voice
Instead, there's many voices, who each know what's best
All want a different something
One always wants adrenaline, one wants sleep
One simply wants for nothing
Some prefer risks, others security
And near all have certainty when they speak
There's so many choices and outlooks to choose from
You could be there for many a week.
And choose you must, use that most dangerous thing
A personal decisional capacity
Don't follow just one, for you'll get closed minded
That path leads to calamity
Life is tough - there's no easy answer
The same approach is not always the right one
Be a wonderful mix of all sorts of voices
Then, you can be someone.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/01/off-topic-voices.html
He was the colour in peoples lives, honest, kind and no liar
He was known worldwide with pride as the sort of man who pushed you higher
Some called him the spark, because he could re-ignite the dullest embers of any flame
But now he needs a therapist, and feels naught but shame
He wanted to colour peoples lives even while feeling kinda down
See there's no jester left for you, when you're the world's clown
For although he's been known to cheer a whole entire town
His is the only smile he could never turn from a frown
Sometimes it's those with the brightest exterior
Those who shine bright, who to us seem superior
They are those who are cursed with the darkest interior
Who really do feel the most inferior.
Now his outer colour is all he has left
While his inner colour is simply grey and bereft
But he'll still do his best, to show that last inner light
To bring colour to your life while on his stage tonight.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/01/colour-man.html
It's quite spectacular, that we can all be identified by our eyes alone
That different patterns and colours sit on the surface of our vision
It can be seen that we all hold different pattern, colour, and tone
Which can be distinguished by a decent optician
But not only do we have different eyes externally
A different eye-based appearance
We also all see the world different internally
We have a different ocular experience
So do you see your vision too often tinted red?
An anger at the world that faces you
Does it all occasionally get to your head
Is it sometimes tough to fight through?
Can you also, though, see with blue
Be at peace with the world entire?
It's not angry, the world has its problems too
It's up to you to lift yourself higher
I know I occasionally have more than a hint of green
I'm jealous of what others display
And don't see the work put in behind the scenes
To make up who they are today
Maybe a drop of brown to your eyes?
A gentleness to welcome a friend
Honesty and sincerity, no person of lies
Or is that brown just a lens and pretend?
But grey is what I fear, no colour is let in
To be tired of the world and all its merry little game
I want to world to expand and brighten!
Not for it to dull and seem all the same
But life is a palette, a versatile mix
And no lens sees the world the same way
Each is personal, deep and complex
So what is yours, would you say?
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/01/colour-eyes.html
It's said that these days
Most people are greys.
Grey personalities
in sharp grey suits
Their grey formalities
Enabling grey pursuits
And those greys,
They like it this way
The greyness is comforting
Their scale blends softly
With greyness embracing
But ending up costly
See, there's a price to pay
To become a grey
The rewards are great
Security and community
Yet along with grey fate
There comes immunity
A resistant shield of grey
A barrier to display
For the comfort of a grey life
You give up a rainbow
As payment for no strife
You limit places you go
For to be grey
Is to live just one day
The greyness eternal
Is a life without risk
So a pox on those prisms of the infernal
What a glorious monochrome is this.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2014/01/colour-world-of-greys.html
What I'm about to tell you may or may not tell you a lot about me.
It could either be a pointless anecdote, or a deeper hint as to how I perceive life.
But know this, in life, the journey is often as important as the destination.
The route we chose to take in life defines us just as much as where we end up.
So, with that in mind, know that when I was younger my favourite colour was Turquoise.
It's one of those slightly odd facts about me that you might dismiss easily.
And you may be right to.
It's just a favourite colour after all.
Though remember what a favourite colour is to a 7 year old boy.
It's what they want to wear, the colour they want their towel (really),
It even can influence their football team (which to many boys is their life)
Colour can mean a lot to a person
So, why on earth was, out of all the possible colours, turquoise the one I "picked"?
It may add some context that, for a while, I wanted to be an architect just because it was the longest word I knew.
But turquoise wasn't my favourite colour because it was a difficult word to spell
It wasn't even because I originally had something turquoise I liked.
I was just glad I'd found it.
When we were shown the colours, everyone was taught primary.
(Side note, when I found out it was RGB - not RYB - in real life
I felt far too betrayed by school for comfort)
Then, later on, we were taught about secondary colours.
Oh, it was so perfect, they fitted in so nicely after all.
But then, my brain got to wondering,
What if there were more colours between those?
So some brave teacher dug up a list
And told me 'tertiary colours' did indeed exist
Showed me the names, most of which I knew
But there was one which was entirely new
Turquoise. Half way twixt green and blue.
Instantly, it became my favourite hue.
And while I didn't go around bragging about it
I made sure that, when asked, I was honest.
I can't remember if I just liked the novelty
Or if I just didn't want the colour to feel left out
But for a long time, I was happy with turquoise
Although I'd settle for pale blue
Nowadays, I don't really have a favourite
I don't have a story about any other colour (Although I did really dislike red)
But, as far as that goes, I wonder if this entire spiel has been highly trivial
Or if you now know more about who I really am. Just from a fondness of turquoise when I was young.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/colour-turquoise.html
I remember when I started out, I was so naive
It was a seemingly innocent and quiet eve
I set out of my proverbial door
Not knowing the challenges the world had in store
So I braved monsters and demons
Stood toe to toe with the most sinister villains
I developed arch-enemies and other foes
But I also had friends, as is custom I suppose
But every time the challenge came my way
I thought back to that fateful day
I could have just stayed at home
Safe and cosy in a protective dome
I ask myself, why am I out here at all
As I'm being battered down and about to fall
After all, the challenge a was self-imposed risk
There was no need at all for me to do this
And the comfort is alluring, no doubt of that
I could just give up and fall down flat
Accept that the adventure is not my fate
That the danger has been getting too great
But, while all of that is certainly true
I have to look back at what I've gone through
I'm taller now. I have a clearer view
I can see exactly what I was trying to do.
Now, after so long in the wild, a choice appears
One that has filled all my hopes and fears
There's a path that circles back to comfort again
It seems so relaxing and free of pain
I mean, I can still journey out once in a while
Tell myself I can go just one mile
The marathon is just self abuse
It's an offer I find it tough to refuse
But another path branches off to the left
And of comforts it's very much bereft
It requires me to be unique - the monsters have learned
It might best me even with the skills that I've earned
With a sigh and an eye role, I head to the left side
I'm not sure why, it might just be pride
But screw it. What is life but for the battle?
Why do we exist if not to get rattled?
For why comforts are tempting, they're the reward of life
To earn them we have to fight hard and take on the strife
For to have taken on the world and still be able to stand
I can't help but feel that I've emerged a slightly better man
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/53-adventure.html
Ladies and gentlemen. I bid you silence for a second.
Yes, I know, but it'll only take a second.
Come on, please? It's this type of thing I'm going to talk about.
Alright then. Ladies and gentlemen. Fill your glasses and raise them.
As I make a toast to adulthood.
And ignore the fact my glass is filled with milk. Focus.
This is important.
ahem
To. Adulthood.
That exact moment when we all became mature.
I hope you all remember where you were when it happened to you.
You were just walking along, jeans round ankles when suddenly, boom.
You pulled up your pants and walked briskly to the nearest store to purchase a pair of slacks.
That exact point where we woke up and realised we needed to apply for a job
Where we all realised there were 'young people' in the world
Where suddenly youth culture stopped making sense
When people instantaneously felt they could rely on us
When we realised how important responsibility was to us all.
When we were able to go to bed at 10 and wake up at 7 every day
When we realised late night parties were silly
And that exact moment when we realised there was nothing we liked better than doing the same thing each and every day, preferably for the next 50 years straight.
Where, just like our parents before us, we suddenly wanted to be sensible
Where, just like our teachers, fun was something that happened to others, and should therefore be squashed
Where you were suddenly aware what taxes were and how much you hated them
Adulthood. Where in an instant you changed into a functioning member of society.
Nah, I'm just kidding ya.
This is a toast to the slow gradual decline of childhood,
And the realisation that it's left adulthood behind for you as a parting gift.
To the slow appreciation that someone actually makes stuff work
That people have been working pretty hard around you your whole life
To understanding this world isn't all fun and games, as much as we'd still like it to be.
To knowing that you have to work a lot of it out yourself, and suddenly being aware that no one anywhere has any clue what they're doing.
To moving away from friends because you don't have time any more, but you'll find time again soon I'm sure.
To wondering how there could ever have been too much time in a day.
To adulthood being the realisation we are all alone.
And this toast is to adulthood. But it's a toast by many. For we have become alone together.
Which just might make it that much more bearable after all.
To adulthood.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/52-toast-to-adulthood.html
You can spend a lifetime planning
Where your lifetime's gonna go
You can spend a lifetime planning
All the things you're gonna know
You can spend a lifetime planning
Trying to decide just one decision
You can spend a lifetime planning
Finalising your grand life vision
And I know you
You're the sort of perfectionist
For whom the devil's in all details
For whom every plan has a plan
And plans for what those plans then entail
When your lifetime plan is done
And has been checked over twice
Then you can really start to be someone
Which I guess will be nice
But new surprises will come through
For all plans have their flaws
What then will you do
You who planned 'til you could plan no more
So here's what's up
Everything in life is a balance
And plans do indeed help life run by
But, there will always exist chance
On that you can rely
Sure the future is scary and unknown
And planning can help to that end
But no matter what fate has sewn
You still have to live in the present, my friend.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/51-planning.html
He sits in his room and plots the world's demise
Through this musky gloom comes all light to his eyes
This darkened vision, this darkened sight
Unwelcome decisions taken in perpetual night
And this propagates, spawning new dilemmas and questions
But he's started this class and is determined to learn the lesson
There is a grandeur, and a certain amount of style
To dark this pure, as he sits and ponders a while
As he sees himself, stood on top of it all
Standing on the back of the world that he made fall
His plans have come to fruition, come to an end
He's a king with ambition, no more need now to pretend
He's been hiding himself so long, and his true potential
But now power courses through him in a manner almost sensual
And he can see everything else, stood in awe finally aware
Or exactly who it is they see standing there
They finally notice, they finally recognise
Too late the mist has been drawn from all their eyes
He can see himself now, finally who he deserves to be
This vision he sees through the dark with such clarity
Ah even the manic, the megalomaniac and king
Can be drawn asunder by even the simplest of things
He so focussed on his vision of being Lord of all
He's forgotten he needs a plan to make the Earth fall
He sees so far ahead he can't take a single step forward
He's stuck in the present, but if he can't help himself then who would
The grandest ambitions can lay waste to the greatest of men
As he sits forgets that life is an 'if' not a 'when'.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/50-rebellion.html
One of the sad facts about life is that you have to get older
One of the good facts in life is that we progress
When balanced together, it can seem irritating.
I'm turning it through in my head 'til my mind is a mess
Yet as I grow up and older, I'm forced a new angle on life
I can witness my perspectives slowly shift
So while sometimes this change can be truly devastating
Other times it can't help but be a gift
See, I remember back when I were a lad.
How I thought about education and about learning
And through the forced nostalgia of age
For that time again I'm initially yearning
Then I remember how I behaved. How I acted.
I remember all the embarrassing things that I've done
About yelling and screaming. About bullying and demeaning.
Oh, what it was to be young
See life was clearer back then.
It was binary, Boolean, in black and white
Good and evil were clearly determined
By who you'd got along with that night
And there was one evil clearer than any other
Standing clearly in front of us all
The teacher, controller of our fate and destiny
The teacher, standing so tall
That one who was forcing us to learn against our will
That one who couldn't understand who we were
That person who seemed heartless and cruel
That villain. That scoundrel. That cur.
And yet. And yet. The teacher isn't so tall these days
I'm starting to see life from that view
Looking back, I'll admit, I'm almost amazed,
At what we put our teachers through.
They're trying their best, in a thankless job,
The outsider just doing what they can
And to still impart knowledge, and lessons of life
Ain't an easy job for a man
So now I can see clearer, or at least in a different way
From how it was way back when
First, I want to firstly apologise
For how difficult I can't help but have made it back then
Second, be grateful, that this realisation
Came while I was still learning
Since the way I'm treating those trying to educate me in life
Is slowly but surely turning
And finally I give thanks
And gratitude most sincere, of that make no mistakes
To those who fought through
To teach and educate, for mine and for other's sakes
Who went the extra mile, to show me
That the teacher in class was a person too
And by that I mean, they're tired and flawed
A person like me or you
Yet still they show strength,
Trying to do their best each and every day
For their own reasons
Helping the tomorrow before they become today
So a repeated thanks to my teachers
And to my friends who are bravely choosing this as their career
It may have taken a while, but I assure you at last
You'll find gratitude and sympathy here.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/12/49-teaching-parallax.html
I mean, personally, I find it difficult to see
Why anyone on this Earth would become a refugee
After all, it's quite frankly plain to me
There's no place like home to be quite so homely
I mean, my parents are there, if I'm not feeling well
But for when I am, man, the place seems swell
I'm safe behind these walls, it's easy to tell
To never come back, now that would be hell
I mean, why would anyone want to depart
The place they hold as home in their heart
I mean, there are so many comforts, privileges too
This country cares for me but why should it care for you?
I mean, sure you'd be welcome to stay a little while
But don't you miss home? Oh, why don't you smile?
I mean, is it really that bad? Is it really that tough?
You've...given up your home. You've had enough.
I'm sorry. I guess. I mean. I can't really know.
What it's like to not have a home to which you can go.
I've been fortunate. Far more than I'm willing to admit.
Please, I'm so sorry, won't you come in for a bit?
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to sell you one hell of an adventure
The only fear that I have is that you'll love too well it's splendour
You'll be enticed, drawn in, and instantly infatuated
As I present to you the boldest hypothetical ever instigated
Nostalgia. Where you can go back and live in the past
Go back to your birth or just re-eat this morning's good breakfast
In fact it can do both, and intertwine strands of time so fine
So that you'll align any personal timeline highlight you call mine
Yes re-relive your memories for only a minimal fee
We'll even add in this rose tinted filter for free
Oh, can't you see how much better your life could be here
Sure you can stay for a while, of that don't you fear
In fact some of our clientele stay for a long time indeed
They get almost defensive if you try to make them recede
After all it's comfortable here, what on Earth is the harm?
It's good for you, cover the pains of today with this temporal balm
Now I'm nothing if not honest, you see I did mention a price.
It's very small, practically minimal, but this virtuous land, it can be a vice
See while it's good to visit and remember where you came from first
It's like an elixir which can be addictive to those who develop fix for the thirst
But never mind that! Get lost in happy mis-memories and drink the present away
It's scary there, just a few sips and you'll return to a happier day
Maybe you'll come to love Nostalgia, maybe you'll never want to leave
Maybe Nostalgia is cruel, and your time it might just thieve
But aside from all that, why not come for a small trip?
Our drink is healthy, even doctors recommend the occasional small sip
Come on. What's the worst that could happen, do you really need much persuasion?
Come to Nostalgia. Give in to temptation.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/11/47-welcome-to-nostalgia.html
This is dedicated to anyone who's every found themselves apologising for no less a mortal sin than just being themself
Let me just start off by saying you all the most spectacular fantastic amazing interesting and intriguing person, that I have ever seen.
I realise that this might sound a little extreme, so let me take a step back to explain what I mean.
See I guess I'm a passionate guy, But I'd like to think I'm honest too
So I'd like to admit to being honest about being passionate about you
And by you I mean every human soul who I've been lucky enough to greet
You've all achieved this amazing goal, this amazingly crazy feat
And that's:
To manage to make your own way in this feral thing called life
To fight through all the perils and to fight through all the strife
To find beauty in areas that other people don't
To experience cares about things that other people wont
You've all got a past that belongs to no other
You've all seen life go by fast, you've all been a lover
You've all gone through great hardships, you've all gone through betrayal
You've all known what it's like to try you're very best and yet still somehow fail
You are individually wonderful, individually unique
Which all seems fascinating to this happy little freak
I know you do yourself down a lot, that's just how things are
But even when you're down, you're still wonderful, you are your own little star
What I guess I mean is, if you'll excuse me the rambling
Is that life is a game of risks, and I'm not very good at gambling
So I love to meet everyone who took the chance to advance down different paths in life decisions
Which I think is roughly everyone, estimating with fairly accurate precision
You have great personal stories and you've shown great personal strength
Strengths about which if I don't condense I am able to go on at great length
Because when I say you are the most spectacular fantastic amazing interesting and intriguing person, I honestly mean it to be true
But what I mean by that, what I'm trying to get to,
What I mean is that you're quite simply and wonderfully just you
So don't you ever let me catch you apologising for no less a triumph than simply being yourself.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/11/46-you-are-all.html
Any fool, or any dunce
Can, if they try, make the world stop once.
To make the world see them, to make the world know
That this fella right here is a guy who's gonna grow
It's not too hard, doesn't require too much invention
To make the world make you the centre of attention
Make it acknowledge that, hey, you exist
Isn't that nice, now wont you be missed?
Only, if you've stopped the world, it's a dangerous game to play
As the world respins and curls, commences creating the day
The intertia, might just knock you off your feet
In the type of experience you might not wish to repeat
See now you're behind, trying to catch the world again
But you've had your time, it's just not the same
It knows who you are, now does it really care?
You'd have to go so far, and no it's not fair.
Last time, you took the world by surprise,
And in it's shock it managed to look you in your eyes,
But all it saw was a fool or a dunce.
Who had their moment, and made the world stop once.
However, that's really not the point of this rhyme.
The real trickster can stop the world a second time.
Stop the spinning of this great ball of rock
For the second time to halt both hands on the clock
To have the courage, conviction, creativity and class
To once again manage to stand on top of this planetary mass
So that, for a second time that the world sees you standing right there.
You see the second time you make the world stop, you also make it care.
Because any fool, or any dunce
Can if they try, make the world stop once
But that's not really the point of this advice
For it takes a genius, to make the world stop twice
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/45-earth-keeps-moving.html
Just to say, I'm not your typical run of the mill human being
I'm not like that standard model you see walking around
I'm fully equipped with genuine thought 'n' feeling
With all the latest gadgets that can be found
Look, I can work through maths with 101% accuracy
I can draw art, and I'll only have to start over twice
I can feign culture and pretend to be classy
And, if for some reason you desire, I can feign being nice
Yes I'm the top of the range, the latest trend
Not like those other fakes you see walking around
I can see you're jealous, no need to pretend
I'm unique, one like me is not to be found
But then it hit me. Exactly what I was saying
By trying to be the best, I was being like the rest
With exactly what message I ended up conveying
It mattered not the result, just that I was taking the test
See the flaws in my design are what keeps me different
I don't need to be scared to acknowledge it you see
All I need to do is acknowledge what is most apparent
That I don't need to be better, just to be me
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/44-not-your-typical.html
So, it's my birthday. I've survived another year.
And I did it my way. And yes I'm still here.
I've clung on for life for another orbit of the sun
I've survived much strife but now this year is done
One more to add to my ever building total
Kind of sad, the year is just a number after all...
But in that year that adds just one to my age
While I've dwelled here still on life's stage
I've acted my part in a great many plots
I've thrown my heart into worlds that others forgot
I've moved on a great deal, not forgetting my past
There's been times to stop and heal, others to go fast
There's been a great many memories that were once the present
Hopefully now fewer enemies and who have less to resent
Many friends made, and many friends not seen
Many debts paid and many insights gleaned
There's so much I've done, and forgotten accidentally
But now this year's gone, and wont return incidentally
So when I add up all that I've achieved
I can stand tall with what I've received
Aside from the friends, aside from the presents
And I wont pretend that I mean the events
I can forget all that, and add one year to call myself 21
As where I'm at, and a tribute to the year just gone.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/43-birthday.html
The first time I cried, and realised I wasn't ashamed
Was the first time I realised that I had cried as a man.
When I decided to accept responsibility when I was blamed
I realised that I was finally mistress maturity's fan
We were never told about this growing up
The difficult parts about becoming an adult
That it doesn't come at one time, a head's up
But a collection of slow and uncertain results
But sometimes you get glimpses of indications
Little hints that Life is moving you along
Giving you a little bit of provocation
After all, the distance we walk is long
Sometimes I feel I don't want to advance
That I'm happy just at this point in the adventure
Feel happy pausing at this instance
Not feeling there's anywhere else I need to venture
But I realise now, I'd hate to be stuck further back
Now I've developed so far
Progress of self is a virtue I'd not wish to lack
And that's when I have my moment of aha
See, although moving on is a scare
It's how we sadly mature
And this realisation, of it's own affair
Was another small personal advancement to endure.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/42-maturity.html
It's happened. Again.
It feels kind of insane
How often it's said
That I'm in over my head
Everything is rushing
I'm embarrassed and blushing
Because I should understand
But I'm really not the wanted man
Let me step back and explain
I went to shot the moon but hit a plane
I aimed way too high, and fell on my ass
I wanted to graduate when I needed to stay in class
Learning to reign myself in is not a skill I possess
I tend to go for too much so end up with less
Find myself claiming I'm far more than I am
A hollow shell of a shadow of a man
So as an intruder, I hide my heart
I try my best to act the part
And sometimes, I succeed
I do exactly what I need
I've felt an intruder the entire time
Like an accomplice in some sordid crime
Then people congratulate me after
Pat me on the back and say with laughter
How well I did, impressive and cool
Yet if on that day, I feel a fool
I'll believe them. And pledge to aim higher
Jump willingly from the frying pan, and into the fire.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/41-out-of-my-depth.html
It takes a lot of courage to stand up to our enemies,
But a great deal more to stand up to your friends.
In fact, courage comes in many places
But it follows no patterns or trends.
Courage can be exactly what you'd expect.
Some show it by great acts of heroics
Which have an obvious cause and effect
Which are all very lovely and quite poetic
But who doesn't love a challenge ay?
So I'm taking quite minor courage and making a stand
Here is some courage more difficult to display
Here is some courage of which I am a fan
I love the courage of a small kid standing up to a bully
But also that of the bully to admit he's done wrong
To overcome pride and admit his folly
That he's been a bully all along
To the man who's struggling with depression
And has the courage to admit it to another
Who decides to seek help, rather than bottle it up
Is courage greater than almost any other
For the small girl who believes in monsters
That are hiding under her bed when she rests
When she goes to look and confront her fears
She is sure to match her monstrous test
I love the courage to play an instrument even when you suck
The courage to say what you should've said before
The courage to stand up for small principles
The courage to be just a little bit more.
Courage can take many forms, forms others don't understand.
For courage where it seems not needed is almost an adage.
But the first step is always the hardest. And the most worthwhile.
So go ahead and be brave my friend. Have courage.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/10/40-what-is-daring.html*
When I was younger, I was a little scared of books.
They were all terribly impressive after all.
They contained worlds I could never understand.
Words I could never hope to comprehend.
Books were almost a symbol of adulthood in their way.
A tangible path to maturity,
They were powerful.
Very powerful.
I learnt about books leading men to war.
Growing up a Christian I was taught about one very powerful book indeed.
And there are similar texts which command similar authority.
Books which controlled nations.
There was also the personal level on which they had power,
JK Rowling created a brand new world in books,
A world I spent more of my life than was probably healthy in.
I was taught at school that some books were more powerful than others.
That by studying them, I could tame them.
So study I did. And the more I did so, the tamer that book became.
But books in general were still to be respected.
I read every book I could. Some more than once.
I absorbed other worlds. And they absorbed me.
There started to be a lot of books I had to read.
Yet still, I battled on.
But then the world started to change.
The world went online. And books had to go with them.
While for some this change was welcomed,
I guess I found myself very much part of the old ~~skule~~ school.
They no longer had a physical presence.
I could dismiss huge texts in a second.
There was just too much in one place.
Far too much to ever read.
I felt a disconnect from the author.
A disconnect from the words.
Sometimes, even a disconnect from the world within.
Books have lost their power.
I have tamed them, but the victory is Pyrrhic.
A victory I had never sought.
But the world moves on. I just wonder where it will move on next...
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/09/39-books.html
I know why I'm stuck down here
But I'm still occasionally the one who gets scared
Cause I'm constantly plagued by a single fear
It's unheard of, as a demon who dreams of nightmares
See I threw in my hand, way back many days
I had my reasons for my choices, I was mad
I gave in to Lucifer's temptations in a daze
But that was so long ago when I was barely a lad
And now I'm stuck here. Paying back my debts.
An infinity in which to think things through
And when you've so long to think, you'll sure have regrets
About what your life has lead you to
See I've been told many a time
That my work is for the good of mankind
That those that I'm torturing are guilty of crime
The greatest sinners you ever could find
So I put them through torture, I put them through pain
Basically, I'm a professional plying his trade
And don't get me wrong, like my clients, my skills are insane
Out of millennia of practice, such skills can't help but be made
But my victims they scream, loud and unbound
And though I'm deaf to every word they say
And though worse scum could nowhere be found
And though they deserve whatever comes their way
There's a couple come through that have silver tongues
Their tales can reach even my devil's heartstrings
They scream their innocence as I pull out their lungs
As payment for all of their sins
But even as their screams stop still as they turn silent
Their words can hang in the air
They follow me round, no rest for the wicked and violent
Because apparently justice is fair.
Their claims of innocence ring in my ears
Their pleas will borrow into my skull
As they attack the worst of my fears
They're the iceberg striking my hull
Cause it's possible life and decisions ain't always so clear, it's not fair
That my victims are mentally unstable and torn
But what does it matter what I feel and fear, when I dream of nightmares?
After all, I'm just a demon, and the devil's own pawn.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/09/38-demon-dreams-on.html
Hey man!
Hi.
Whats up?
Not much. How're you?
How am I? Well.
That's kinda difficult.
See, I'd describe myself as kinda complex. A little bit unusual, y'know?
Saying how I am is gonna take a little bit longer than you might think.
I've been thinking a lot about a lot of things in a lot of ways
So you might want to settle down and grab yourself a drink
I'm feeling kinda amazing. I'm luckier than most people in this world.
I've been blessed with a caring family, supportive friends and good circumstance
I was born with relatively few disabilities to stunt my growth
There are only few obstacles on the path down which I wish to advance
But I'm also feeling quite sad and disillusioned
Whenever I see what's happening in the news
I feel sad when I see the media not doing it's job
Yet when it does it's job well I just develop depressing views
I'm feeling optimistic - I'm still young with life to live
I'm feeling kind - there's so much that I want to give
I'm feeling anxious - there's some tough challenges in store
I'm feeling satisfied - screw materialism, I don't need anything more
I'm feeling like the sum total of 1000 generations of natural selection
I'm feeling that I'm thinking too much, with introspective introspection
I'm feeling lonely, a unique sum of genetics within the human race
I'm feeling small, as I realise the vastness of outer space
I'm feeling like a lot of things right now
And I know you do to.
I'd love to ask you to answer with exactly how
It really feels to be you.
But with all things considered
Now I've gathered up all these thoughts of mine
When you ask me how I'm feeling?
I guess I'm fine.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/09/37-in-which-i-learn-i-suck-at-small-talk.html
This was a poem written when I first share my poetry blog to all of my facebook friends. 8 year later, the fact some people are still reading my words is amazing. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I'm still just as thankful.
So, it's started to happen slowly,
That among the 1000+ people who are friends on facebook
The 1% of you who've seen me link (or maybe 2%)
Who've thrown caution to the wind and given my poetry site a look
And then decided it wasn't as bad as you thought
And told me you quite liked what was written here
And possibly been kind and told me to promote further
I wanted to respond to make myself clear
But first, let me thank you in an unreserved manner
It was really unexpected, that you actually liked my little spiels
It really does make me happy and surprise me everytime
One of you comes and admits my poetry held a little appeal
And while I truly am glad, allow me to be a little blunt
For I'm a sham, and the selfishness of this blog is my vice
For the main reason for me writing this was for me
So I could see myself improve and realise some advice
If you're feeling brave, flick between the start and now
I feel I've already got better than I was before
And I want to keep getting better and better
Until the better of my poetry is rooted at it's core
I know this sounds bad. And I may actively try to promote in the future
But right now I'm not quite there.
So while you're reading this from the comfort of your computer
Let me state right now, I'm really glad you care.
That each view does make me glad.
And people returning to read more is just, well, great.
And if you hang on a bit further until I'm a little less bad
I'll try my best to make it worth your wait.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/09/36-thank-yous-and-responce.html
You kinda have to be an artist to understand.
That behind each masterpiece of art lies work unseen.
That thousands of brushstrokes went into building the technique
That many paintings were discarded in the pursuit of perfection
Into the muscles mastering the precise control and co-ordination
Into having the patience to repeat, over and over, for every flaw
That which is before you is the sum of far more than just the time to create that one piece of work.
But only an artist would understand
You kinda have to be a musician to understand.
That behind each masterpiece of music lies work unseen.
That thousands of hours went into building the technique
That many melodies were discarded in the pursuit of perfection
Into developing the rhythm which will guide every beat
Into having the patience to repeat, over and over, for every flaw
That the work before you is the sum of far more than just the time to create that one piece of work.
But only a musician would understand.
You kinda have to be an athlete to understand.
That behind each masterpiece of athleticism lies work unseen.
That thousands of hours went into building the technique
That many techniques were discarded in the pursuit of perfection
Into the muscles mastering the precise control and co-ordination
Into having the patience to repeat, over and over, for every flaw
That the work before you is the sum of far more than just the time to create that one piece of work.
But only an athlete would understand.
You kinda have to be a scientist to understand.
That behind each masterpiece of knowledge lies work unseen.
That thousands of hours went into building the thesis
That many ideas were discarded in the pursuit of perfection
Into understanding exactly every assumption and justification required
Into having the patience to rethink, over and over, for every flaw
That the work before you is the sum of far more than just the time to create that one piece of work.
But only a scientist would understand.
Yet it took me a long time indeed to understand
That behind each masterpiece of any field lies work unseen.
That thousands of hours went into building the technique
That many techniques were discarded in the pursuit of perfection
Into developing any skill to the point that no one else could imitate it
Into having the patience to repeat, over and over, for every flaw
That the work before you is the sum of far more than just the time to create that one piece of work.
That every thing masterpiece you witness
Is the sum of a lifetime so far
That no truly great work is achieved without great effort behind the scenes
Without all the sacrifice, all the pain,
and all the work unseen
And I think that, just possibly, I'm beginning to understand.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/08/35-work-unseen.html
I've always been told,
"Why can't you just stop for a second and smell the roses?
Can't you see how pretty it is?
Feel how soft it's petals are?
How the thorns give pungent imagery about the intertwined nature of beauty and danger?
Just stop and appreciate the rose."
It might just be me,
But I'm far more interested in the bit of graffiti
Etched imprecisely on a tree
Saying SW loves JD
In the slightly damaged branch
In the bit of litter on the ground
In the butterflies dancing with each other
In the oak that stands many meters tall
In the little bit of rope on the strongest accessible branch indicating the absence where a swing used to be
In the pattern of flowers that means nothing at all
I love the sound of a river streaming
I adore the rustling of leaves indicating the hidden life I can't see
I like stopping in a place with long grass indicating no one really stopped here before
I like to stop to try to work out why on earth I've stopped at all
And yes, sometimes, I like to stop to smell the roses.
But the only reason we can stop at all is because the rest of the time we're moving.
We can only stop so many times.
And I have to say, that when I stop
I want it to stop for my own reasons
And find my own beauty in this world.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/08/34-roses.html
It's quite odd that we view not caring about something as cool
I don't know why, but I had this feeling all the way through school
That it was wrong to have any greater goal and mission
That the greatest sin was the pride of ambition
Cynicism is king, scepticism the jester
That the worst person is the one who invests their
Time trying to be an active go-getter
Making fun of anyone trying to get better
All of this, sort of builds into a general theme
That to care about something is entirely obscene
To try to strive in a new direction
Is tantamount to utmost insurrection
And now I regret not doing more
That I didn't have more things to try for
For now the most fascinating people I know
Are those who've been driven be something greater since the word go
Because it's only when you take a stand you can realize you're standing on faulty ground
It's only when you've tried your time many times you can realize what you've found
Only when you've tried and failed and tried and failed again
Only when you've defied all odds can you love your mission
So screw convention, and the idea you shouldn't have a passion
Let's have an intervention, because apathy shouldn't be the fashion
Let's all go out in different directions, please go and stop stalling
This is my open invitation, for you to finally find your calling
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/08/33-to-care-about-something.html
I'm an asthmatic.
Sometimes, I really struggle for breath.
And I have to stay calm.
Can't be mad or fanatic
That way, I walk to close to death
To very dangerous harm.
You treasure seconds
You store them up for later use
Life is more real
The struggle beckons
As you try to reach a truce
So you can still feel
And then suddenly life is back to its normal pace
You're hustling about again, forgetting time is a race
You'll spend days doing nothing at all
Forgetting the moment you hit the wall
Forgetting the sweetness of the first true taste of air after an attack
Forgetting the fleetingness of moments where you didn't know how to come back
Forgetting the alien sound of wheezing coming from no mouth but yours
Forgetting the difficulty of the ground, the feeling of your pores
I have known the value of a single exhalation
Only when you know that can you know inspiration
Take that struggle, and know asthma only highlights what you spend every moment doing
Pull yourself up young muggle, because tonight you realise what is worth pursuing
See, that near death experience has become routine
I can disappear, greet the reaper, and return with absence unseen
It's not often, and normally it's not to severe
But when it is, you'll know if you happen to be near
Breath is short
Words are now even shorter
I become more zen
I'm caught
Possibly down for the slaughter
Life is precious again
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/08/32-breathing.html
I don't know why, but sometimes, I'm scared of being replaced.
And I'm scared that replacement will be able to do everything I can
That if one day I was just suddenly erased
My replacement could just be the clockwork man
That my day to day becomes too predictable
That the way I walk and talk can be replicated
That each day is merely average and typical
With the life that fate has seen me designated
And I'm not sure why I'm scared of this
What is so bone chilling about routine
But it's simultaneously a cage, a chasm, an abyss
The easiest trap into which I could careen
It's the curse of comfort, the fate of the familiar
But something which a lot of people may not think too scary
Life is just what you've got, does it really make you shiver,
If you like your life enough you don't want it to vary?
I want to experience life, in all it's horror and majesty
I want to know my life was not just spent in the same old dive
To make mine the richest of tapestries
To always feel like I'm still alive
For me, I'm afraid, that's the way my views go
The monotony of repetition is my greatest fear
Because the clockwork man inside me is waiting in my shadow
But for now, if just now, he's not in control here.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/07/31-clockwork-man.html
I had one of those rarest moments today
It was clarity, like a single word in ink
A moment of great rareness and sparsity
A moment where I could actually think
The feeling was enlightening
A release from my usual entrapment
Yet also, oh so frightening
At the brevity of this enlightenment
I could do anything, if this feeling would only last
Understand any problem, solutions would surround me
My mind finally working, and seems to run fast
While clarity quickly lessens, then confounds me
I really want to focus, but these days it is so hard
There's so many updates to see and read
And to think takes such effort, to go the extra yard
We have everything that we want, but nothing that we need
It is time I actually did it, shut everything down
And listened to nothing, so that thoughts could be beckoned
And then, for just once, in this noisy old town
I could gain clarity, for more than just a second.
In this world of Monsters,
We're either charlatans or freaks
The charlatans, they try their hardest
To be seen as neither 'weird' nor 'unique'
The hide every imperfection
Every blemish that they perceive
Then sell their vision to us
And it's that vision we receive
That this world is not of monsters
You're clearly not trying hard
This world is one of perfect beings
Who are never spotty or scarred
Can't you see how happy we are?
And how perfect we appear?
You know you could be just like us
If you tried your whole life time plus just one year.
...
In this world of Monsters,
I count myself a happy freak
I'm not trying to hide myself
And I don't think that makes me weak.
I will never be the perfect being
They parade around before us
They're tried so hard to pour beliefs into me
I'm practically porous
I am blemishes and scars
Acne, pain and regret
And that ain't no bad thing
I'm proud of it you bet.
Sure I'm trying to improve
I'm not saying in life you can't progress
But there's nothing wrong in being yourself
Even if that self is a mess
You are beautiful, you are flawed
With your own personality
Embrace your weirdness and your oddities
Cause you're a Monster, just like me.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/07/29-monsters.html
Ok, I'm about to speak about something
To which every reader can certainly relate
I'm talking about when you're talking
And plough straight on, and don't hesitate
Oops, see? You've done it now
You've said something awkward,
It's been said and you know exactly how
And you know you can't just leave it and move onward.
No.
From now, you will spend countless hours thinking about what you just said
It'll hold immense and uncertain power, swirling around inside your head
A thousand different scenarios will present themselves as an option
Things that would just flow over the conversation and soon be forgotten
What if? What if? Your mind will echo for a age
If only I could go back in time, rewrite that page
I could be known as a great wit and connoisseur
Instead now I'm just a local twit, a dumb-ass cur
You're going to beat yourself up for a while I can tell
So let me step in before your own mind becomes a hell
It's perfectly natural to worry about this - it's how social skills improve
But if your mind wants to find bliss, it's going to have to move
For you can say things that can brighten someone's day
That can help and encourage when someone's mood is grey
You don't realise it, but that's what people remember
I mean, you may not relight someone's fire, but you can provide an ember
You can build up and strengthen, that's your gift
What you just said was over quite swift
One time is one time, but what matters is the message you re-enforce
But that's up to what you want to do, of course.
I mean, some people like being awkward.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/07/28-awkwardness.html
I was there on that most beautiful and fantastic of dates
A summation of two such painful and intertwined fates
Despite efforts to separate, the decided it was far easier to join
As two opposing sides realised they made the same coin
It was the ceremonial joining of Science and Art
An emotional time for the brain and the heart
Both simply trying to comprehend to world in which we dwell
Both had caused healing and harm, created heaven and hell
Yes there was bound to be turmoil, the honeymoon would be short
That there would be debates and arguments worthy of the highest of courts
But for the good times, man, they would rock the world in two
Lifting us higher than either one alone could do
The ceremony was certain to be a most curious affair
For the conjoining of such a conflicting pair
On a beach by the sea lit by stars in the sky
The sort of scene that embodies the very essence of the question 'why?'
The vows were something to help separate the couple
Art wished for turmoil, so as to find beauty in the struggle
To sometimes work apart, so they'd appreciate being together
To go forth sans map or chart, not knowing what storms they'd weather
Science, in their vow, wished for something quite different
For both to work together to avoid being ignorant
To never let ego and pride cloud the road ahead
But even more fascinating were the words left unsaid
For as these two embraced, kissed, and left over the sand
And strolled away, hand in newly ringéd hand
I realised why this was the most beautiful pairing I'd ever witness
For both Science and Art answer to themselves, and no other mistress
There is nothing that can limit the artist's imagination
Scientists' will hypothesise the impossible without hesitation
Together, brand new ideas and possibilities could be given birth
Together, they could truly push the limits of earth
Context: Aesop Rock's "Water" contains many beautiful lines, one of which is:
'When Science proposes to Art beside the peace-filled sea,
I'll be the cat with a ring on the pillow shouting "Finally!"',
*which gave birth to this poem.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/07/27-when-science-proposes-to-art.html*
The paths you've taken are yours and yours alone
These paths define your current personality and tone
And lead you to where you are right now
Now while you can never take the same path twice
To revisit where you once trod is my advice
Find a way to do it somehow
For a man who's forgotten from where he came
Does so only to his utmost shame
For he's lost touch with his past
So I'd encourage you all to do this
Go back, stop, and reminisce
Find the mould from which you're no cast
But don't stay for too long in that place
Keep on moving in this human race
Staying back too long should be barred
For you have to move on from your history
To places unknown, towards utter mystery
Even though sometimes, trust me, it's hard.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/06/26-paths-youve-taken.html
It's not to hard to find the pressure against you
Feel it building up and becoming immense too
These pascals are building up high
Units increasing not passing by
It's quite tough. And it comes from strange places
People demanding you pull out a hand of aces
Or pushing you way past your comfort zone
Taking about things in distasteful tone
You've got to wear these clothes, think this way
You've got to talk like us or it's not ok
You've got to be up with the latest trends
You've got to like this things or we're not friends
I'm not a fan of this as you might guess
But it can be a difficult thing to address
The idea of all being the same is almost despicable
It's your duty, when everyone is pushing, to be individual.
And push back.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/06/24-push.html
I sometimes wonder what first impression I give
What criteria people judge me with
How I'm perceived, and how much the impression sticks
How long an impression takes to break, how many clock hand ticks.
I don't care about my appearance much, but it's more than I used to
I find rigorous styling too much hassle to go through
But I still care more than I might like to admit
So I'm curious as to what signals I transmit
So I know I talk fast and my hair is unkempt
That my posture is slovenly despite recent attempts
That I do talk a little posh, but dress as a mess
That I sometimes forget the name of the person I wish to address
That I tend to be keen, at least when meeting someone new
That I tend to mutter when I don't wish to
That I judge people as well, I have just as much guilt
It's something I'm ashamed of, a slight perspective tilt
But I've tried to become aware, so I can correct the pitch
It's much worse to be ignorant than to solve a worry itch
Because I'm a poor judge of character, and people can fascinate
Learn who someone really is, before you character assassinate
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/06/25-first-impressions.html
Dear Sir, you've been nothing but obnoxious all evening
And normally, naturally, I'd just be enquiring as to the time of your leaving
But this time I feel special discipline must be enforced
Why are you raising your fists? Ah, you're not cultured, of course.
Forgive my ignorance of one so uncouth
I'll be generous and put it down to the frivolities of youth
No, dear Sir, when we battle, we battles with rules
So let me explain what's happens in Gentleman's Rhyming Duels.
I know you're a scallywag and a young up-starter
But you must still learn of it, it's our poetic Magna Carta
So lest you invest to test yourself against the best but before you end in destitution
Let me unveil the lines of our constitution
Rule 1: There is to be no physical blows or contact
Only with words may your opponent be attacked
Rule 2: You may not insult an opponent's romantic relation
That line used to say wife, but in the future we don't use that connotation
Related rule 3: It's never an insult to call your opponent gay
You're a gentleman, boy, we're learnéd that way
Rule 4: You must speak in clearly pronounced rhymes
No slanting or mumbling for that is cheating and a crime
Rule 5: Be intelligent in the way that you insult
No baseless jabs or insinuating an untrue fault
Rule 6: When you're disposing of your opponents smart arse
Be dressed well and proper, show him your class
Rule 7: Only battle if the occasion genuinely requires
But if it does you step up and turn that sir back down to a squire
Rule 8: No rhymes aimed below the waistband
Rhyme face to face don't go for the cummerbund
Rule 9: Don't think wistfully of rhymes you could have done
If the duel is over you accept the result and move gracefully on
Rule 10: Be a gentleman in defeat but also be a gentleman as the victor
I've so some men celebrate so great you could measure it with Richter.
See most fellows can't actually follow how we do
We battle at too high a level, do me and you
They've phased in and out, they've tried a little to follow
But seeing gentleman battle, well it's a tough act to swallow
If at the end of it all, you shake my hand
You emerge a tattered but better man
But now you've learnt the game, do you still wish to play?
I assure you I've been duelling since back in the day
And while I play with grace, I play to destroy
So next time think twice before you cross me, boy.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/06/23-gentlemans-rhyming-duel.html
I've never needed to artificially produce a high
Never really done drugs, let me tell you why
Life is so thrilling and fantastic as it is
I don't need to do anything drastic for a fizz
To some people this is alienating
It's just uncool and a bit frustrating
People ask why "How can you not do {insert drug here}"
I'd reply but there's no answer they want to hear
I'm a bit scared of becoming reliant - sure
I've friends who're already in need of a cure
But it's not a main reason for keeping it clean
For not giving life a seasoning and adding a sheen
"Do you not feel awkward, like you're making us feel bad?"
You just sound backward, and kind of mad
I don't expect anyone to lead the life I do
But it's the way that gives me least strife, it's true
"Don't you feel like you're missing out on what life is?"
Let me answer that with a one question quiz
Is life about just taking stuff and losing yourself
About taking enough medication from shelf after shelf
No, the real reason is I want too do things under my own steam
I want to be the reason behind what all my actions mean
I want to be responsible for every choice
For the good, and the bad are done with my voice
While originally I just didn't like the taste
It's now a rule on which my life is based
For the better, it's part of my pledge
To the letter, to be straight edge.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/05/22-straight-edge.html
Goodbye.
It's a simple word isn't it.
Yet it contains so many different connotations and meanings that it can mean almost anything at all.
The simple goodbye,
For a friend you know
You'll meet again tomorrow
The goodbye when leaving home
To the family you've known you're life thus far
And going out on your own to this world so bizarre
The goodbye when you aren't sure when you'll meet again
When you don't know whether you should hold back the tears
If the next time you meet will be in years
The goodbye when you know you wont meet again
When a friend is leaving your world for good
And lives are parting like they never should
The first goodbye of a new friend
When you know you'll have fun again soon
The goodbye of a friendship newly hewn
The goodbye you give when you don't want to leave
When circumstances seek to drag you away
When all you really want to do is stay
The final goodbye you'll ever say
The one thing all of us have to one day give
The only one you never outlive
The goodbye you never said, but now it's to late
There's no sense of closure, just emptiness inside
The goodbye never said to the person who died
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/05/21-ways-to-say-goodbye.html
This is an Ultimate Frisbee songfic based off One Day More from Les Miserables. The podcast just includes my thoughts, because I cannot sing. I did record a version to challenge myself, but it has been deleted for the sake of everyone. Not releasing the terrible audio may be the kindest thing I ever do for humanity. Still, enjoy my thoughts and the written poem below!
So, here's the scenario. You've been staging a dramatic comeback against a team. You've just scored, and are starting on defence. It's a big point, and it means a lot to everyone there. Nervously, you look to your captain. He looks nervous to. Then, suddenly defiant. You wonder what's coming next. Suddenly, he starts to sing...
VALJEAN
One D more!
Another point, another man to D.
This never-ending road to victory;
My men have one more wall to climb
To finally end this overtime.
One D more!
MARIUS
Only one point left to play
Time to finish what we have started.
VALJEAN
One D more.
MARIUS & COSETTE
Tomorrow you may rest away
Which you may do, when we have parted!
EPONINE
One more D to make my own.
MARIUS & COSETTE
Will we be on O again?
EPONINE
One more D for the crowd staring.
MARIUS & COSETTE
I was born to score with you.
EPONINE
What a throw he might have thrown.
MARIUS & COSETTE
And I swear my force is true!
EPONINE
But he never saw me there!
ENJOLRAS
One more D left to perform!
MARIUS
Do I follow as the disc goes?
ENJOLRAS
As we fight on with ambition.
MARIUS
Shall I poach another player?
ENJOLRAS
When our zone begin to form
MARIUS
What's my play; and do I dare?
ENJOLRAS
Will you form the cup with me?
ALL
The time is now, the D is here!
VALJEAN
One D more!
JAVERT
One D more to resolution,
We will lay out in the mud!
We'll are ready, make some noise
Be prepared if they run a flood!
VALJEAN
One D more!
M. & MME. THENARDIER
Watch 'em run in muck,
Catch discs as they fall,
Never risk your luck
When there's a free for all,
Here a little tip
You can catch any 'touch'
Play your best with honour
Play with spirit and such!
Students (2 Groups)
1: One day to a new beginning
2: Raise the flag of ambition high!
1: Don't be scared to make a swing
2: Don't be scared to make a swing
1: There's a new point for the winning
2: There's a new game to be won
ALL
Do you here the sideline sing?
MARIUS
My place is here, I play with you!
VALJEAN
One D more!
MARIUS & COSETTE
Only one point left to play
EPONINE
One more D to make my own!
MARIUS & COSETTE
Time to finish what we have started.
JAVERT(overlapping)
I will join these people's heros
I will follow where they go
I will earn the profile pictures,
I will know what throws to throw.
VALJEAN
One D more!
MARIUS & COSETTE
Tomorrow you may rest away
EPONINE
What a throw he might have thrown!
MARIUS & COSETTE
Which you may do, when we have parted!
JAVERT(overlapping)
One more D to resolution
We will lay out in the mud
We'll are ready make some noise
THENARDIERS(overlapping)
Watch 'em run in muck,
Catch discs as they fall,
Never risk your luck
When there's a free for all.
VALJEAN
Tomorrow we'll be far away,
Today is now our judgement day
ALL
Today we'll all discover
What our opposition has left in store!
One more score
One more D
One D more
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/05/20-one-d-more.html
Hey, I'm just a fish in the sea
And guess what, there's plenty more of me
Always has been and hopefully always will be
But we don't taste the same, we're quite unique
See I'm aware I'm the subject of many a metaphor
Just a phrase for there being an abundance, and there always being one more
But I'd like to counter that with utmost vigour
For not every fish is one you would wish to seek
And hey, the water's the place I like to dwell
When I'm out of it I wouldn't do so well
Unless I'm under some magical Disney-like spell
But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try something new
It's better to challenge yourself in new situations
Being stuck in a rut just causes frustration
Being the fish out of water can cause some great new adaptations
After all, a fish that left the seas long ago eventually became you
We're all unique in our choices and decisions
No saying is ever going to be perfect to every fish you see
I guess here is the climax to this vision
You too were once just another fish who left the sea
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/05/19-just-fish.html
The world revolves at a steady pace of 360 degrees a day
The sun will rise and it will fall. But it will never stay.
The stars in the sky will eventually burn and change how a constellation is arranged.
The Universe itself isn't constant. In the end, everything will have changed.
Growing up, you never see yourself grow into anything different.
This world is trying hard to change you, but man you're persistent.
You'll always be you at heart, whatever that means anyway.
There's certainly nothing to contrast any consecutive day.
But then, take a look back. A good while back if you have to.
You've developed. Don't be ashamed, it's true.
But the you back then wouldn't recognise you now.
You didn't realise, but the world changed you somehow.
And look the other way. You'll change in the future as well.
You'll go through heaven and you'll go through hell.
How you'll change. Man, that's just speculation.
You'll be built up further, all you know is the foundation.
There's just no use trying to stay as you are.
You're eventually no more permanent than a star.
Embrace it. Life will take you fantastic places if you give it a try.
And never allow the past to let the future pass you by.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/04/18-changes.html
Right now you're not the only person on earth
Right now there's a grandfather dying and a mother giving birth
Right now the world is spinning, and it's only one moment you may find
Right now is one moment experienced in 7 billion different minds
Right now the night is dark, and the moon is bright
Right now it's raining, but dry, so hark at the sun in the sky
Right now one little kid just opened his eyes and saw his first ray of light
Right now six astronauts float in space where there's no day or night
Right now a young girl creates a semi-perfect daisy chain
Right now a young man wishes he could pass out from pain
Right now a kid found hope after hearing it get's better
Right now a young lover just finished writing their first love letter
Right now a patent just got approved for the next big invention
Right now a student just met her true love next to her in detention
Right now friends just reunited for the first time in years
Right now a teen read their acceptance letter through tears
Right now a office worker finally broke a habit of decades
Right now a man who dropped litter on the street labelled himself a renegade
Right now someone just joined the unemployment lines
Right now someone just found out their tumour was benign
Right now a man just passed away before he could say his last phrase
Right now someone laughed for the first time in days
Right now someone wiped away a tear as they said 'I do'
Right now a life just continued as though this moment meant nothing to you
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/04/17-right-now.html
I think one of the scariest moments of my life, was when I realised I couldn't do it alone.
I could never be truly independent, never could do it just on my own.
From the moment we are born, we need other people, our parents for a start.
The doctor and nurse who helped your Mother give birth, and your Dad also played his part
And as you grow up tall, you start to strive, and want more independence
You want it all, to feel more alive, and want to break your dependence
You think that some day, way off in the future, you can make it going solo
Make your own way, stand strong and endure, no matter where you go
The future is still an uncertain place, but I can tell you this
But straight to your face, here's my prognosis
The libertarian autonomic independence is ignorance incarnate
There's no man alive who doesn't benefit from his fellow primates.
For the road you walk on, the rubbish you make which is collected
To the meat you buy which has been independently inspected
The people who sterilise your water, and make it safe to drink
The scientists and philosophers who help form the ideas you think
On your own I honestly say you couldn't do any of this
If you think you could, you're deceiving yourself - it must be a happy bliss.
But society is a collection of all, not just you
But its not a bad thing, I tell you this true
Together, we really can be the best we can be
The sum of individuals creates a greater society
We are reliant on others to achieve almost all we desire
Through the power of others, we are lifted higher
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/04/16-cant-do-it-alone.html
It may not seem true, but everything has been leading up to this
You were born, one day long ago
With a world to explore with so much to know
So much potential, so many paths to explore
So many reasons to start exploring the world for
And so you took some paths, you made some decisions
Some of them were chance, others decided with precision
And it takes you down strange routes, this world of ours
Life can stay the same for years or change in hours
But where you are now is quite unique
A special combination, a chance, a freak
You couldn't come here again if you tried
But to try again is an option most fervently denied
Instead, be glad, you are who you are you see
You are you, who else would you chose to be?
Be glad of the present, that's my diagnosis
So right now, at every now, everything has lead up to this
You, sitting there, reading an average poetry blog. Well, I think you chose well at least.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/04/15-to-this-moment.html
I've started to grow distant from some friends of old
And it's always painful when I realise that this is the case
That we've neared the end of our story to be told
We're still running, but no longer in the same race
It's tough. But there isn't much you can do, I guess
There's so many people and so many places
That my mind and memory is a mess.
It's hard to keep track of all the faces
They keep changing without me
It was painful to realise
That people aren't going to wait politely
For me to stop and re-enter their lives
Yet for most, I hope, they'd still stop to chat
If the chance arrived, they'd not just pass me by
I know some who already chose to do that
And though it hurts me, I do it to others, no lie.
So to everyone out there who I haven't seen a while
I beg your patience, but go on living well
Advance yourself, and do it with a smile
So that if we meet again you have a story to tell
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/04/14-to-lose-friend.html
When I was younger, I used to look at the night sky and see nothing there.
It's just blackness and nothing, as substance-less as air.
And while that may have been true, it wasn't in the way I intended
See while the sky may not have friendly aliens which can be befriended
(at least as far as we know about)
There's still a lot of stuff to make you shout
"*My God, how on Earth(?) does this stuff exist
And how can life on this planet even persist*"
See there's big balls of flames
Many countless infinities of chemical reactions
And it was to my eternal shame
How long it took to garner my attraction
And now it has, I'm not letting a second go to waste
Because the night sky is so much more than a copy and paste
Each part of it is unique, a scientific miracle
Most of it real, and only part theoretical
And if you've not done so thus far
Just lay back and the ground, and look up at the stars
As the entirety and eternity of all of outer space
Can be reflected into your eyes, as you realise the wonders you now face.
Context: An Astronomer friend of mine, when asked for a random topic, gave me the night sky. She liked it, so I hope anyone reading this does as well :)
In case you weren't aware, there's a world outside your window.
In case you weren't aware, there's places on this earth you need to go
In case you weren't aware, life is more than work and a computer screen
In case you weren't aware, I'm about to elaborate and tell you what I mean
Too often, we get trapped in our own little earth
Much smaller than the big one, which we were given on birth
A little personal place, that doesn't stretch out far
With familiar faces, and nothing bizarre
A world where nothing happens that you don't expect
Where everyone has similar ambitions and regrets
Your philosophy is only ever reinforced
And from a familiar vein is everything sourced
Stop it. Break out that cage.
It doesn't have to be done with anger or rage.
It just takes a second, and to be a tiny bit brave
To break out from the usual habits in which you behave
Do something different, no one's stopping you
Break the pattern of what you usually do
Make your own path, you may be surprised where it leads
And do something different.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/03/12-in-case-you-arent-aware.html
To those spys sent by the government to track every second of my life,
Let me assure you - you haven't seen anything yet.
I know you think I'm just a distinctly average guy, little strife
In the game of life, I'm a high stakes bet
But I assure you, tomorrow, it's all going to change
I'm going to make my stand
To everyone who knows me it's going to feel strange
As I become known throughout the land
Yes I'm going to be big
And you'll all want to shout
About this small little twig
Who's branching out
You'll see me inspire the new generation
And be the next big thing
I'll be the name people give under 'inspiration'
I'll be close to a king
Honestly, tomorrow it's going to happen
I'm finally going to break through
I know I can hear everyone else laughing,
But I swear to you it's true
I really am going to make my move
I'm going to be the best I can be
I'm going to be better. I'm going to improve
This time I mean it.
Honestly....
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/03/11-you-havent-seen-anything-yet.html
I don’t know if you’ve heard, the drumming of the air
You may call it absurd, but I assure you that it’s there
That simple beat, that carries on the wind
Always to repeat, never to rescind
It’s the pulse of life, the marching of time
Sharp as a knife, its point is prime
You may not know, but you march to it to
Wherever you go, it’s all that you do
You can’t break free, there’s no point trying
It’s all you can be, until you’re dying
The rhythm is strict, the dance is tough
A sound to restrict, you can’t struggle enough
But just once in a while, it may get loose
And then why not smile, with less of a knot on the noose
You can step back and see, everyone else in their dance
While you can be stationary, see everyone else advance
Take advantage.
This wont last long.
You’re briefly free.
Go wild.
Go mad.
Go Anywhere.
Break the rules.
Reality will restore itself shortly.
When it notices you’ve gone.
Don’t let it.
And though it may, catch you up again
Don’t let it cause dismay, it wont be long 'til when
You can see the pace slow, can see what you must do
That’s when you’ll know,you'll feel the deja vu
Take your encore, step out of time once more
Trip the step
Beat the drums
And be your own rhythm
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/03/10-beat.html
9 In
Its an in joke that I’m not proud
That I’ve never been in with the in crowd
I’m a proud outsider
A socially awkward collider
Making social situations so difficult and strange
That there’s no one left who wouldn’t say I’m deranged
But that’s fine. I’m an introvert at heart
You’ve got to go down to discover my genuine emotional part
I act like a tough guy
But flat out that’s a lie
I’ve been damaged too many times, don’t cause it’s tough for me to reveal
Like any human being I’m a guy that can feel
So if I seem cold, ruthless or hostile
I’d beg you, just give me a while
I may not be popular, blessed with a prom king fate
But if you get to know me it’ll be worth the wait.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/02/9-in.html
I wish that I could name countries, that I could read maps,
That I could write essays, as well as I can rap.
That I could go on field trips and get muddy, I guess I'm trying to infer,
My darkest desire is to study and be a geographer.
Know I know what y'all are thinking "the boys gone mad,
What ever happened to him, he used to be such a promising young lad,
Full of hopes an ideals, aspirations and dreams,
Now he's gone so far wrong you can hear his parent's screams."
I'm going to stop you right there because I think you're being a little dramatic.
And I can sense doubt in the audience. So let me state and be emphatic:
Geography is really the means by which I wish I could pay my bills,
But I didn't have the nerve or the colouring skillz.
Yet I really do care about the environment and the energy debate.
About the Geology and Sociology of the planet we habituate.
But I have to say when it comes to the thrust of the earth's crust causing tidal surges,
And red hot magma and volcanoes, they all give me urges.
Yeah it really is one of the most urgent of course,
I run out of air when I talk about the limitations of earth's resources.
I'd love to go on a field trip to someplace nice and exotic, but also quite expensive,
But I think I'd be nervous, I'd sure be apprehensive.
And I feel I'd have to stand up to my stereotype with defiance,
I know all of you view me as just a guy that studies science,
But I'm more than just the math, more than just the equation.
I'm not trying to make you laugh, but win you over with persuasion.
Because although it goes against my engineering core, I've got no wish higher,
Yeah to study Geography really is my darkest desire.
Context: We had an auction of promises, where people sold services and items for charity. I offered a poem, and much to my surprise and delight it was actually bought by 2 second year geographer friends of mine, James Fisher and Dan Tarry. The only limitation they gave me was the poem's subject - my darkest desire. Who knows what they had thought I'd write about. After some thought, I'd decided to do it about studying Geography. Originally it was meant to compliment them show Geography as a complex subject, covering many disciplines and highlight it's importance to the modern world. I feel I only deviated slightly from that in my final piece...
*Sorry.
But nevertheless, this poem is still dedicated to them. Whether they want it to be or not.*
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/02/8-my-darkest-desire.html
If you love what you do, you'll never have to live a day in your life.
But if you do then what you love will cause you trouble and strife.
Because then you depend on it for survival, it becomes a chore.
What once was great becomes no fun anymore.
And then, also, you care so much if you succeed.
You have real tears to cry, real blood to bleed.
You can't do the 9-5 shift, not really caring.
Not if your desire is collapsing and tearing.
See, a lot of people I know thought they loved what they did.
Thought they'd known what they'd wanted since being a kid.
Thought that there was no way they'd ever grow tired or sad
Of doing the thing they had done since a lass or a lad.
The real world ain't like that though, you see?
It's constantly twisting and turning, welcome to reality.
Ideals and morals are going to be put through the mill
Every desire is to be tested, but for every way, there is a will.
It's tough, and it ain't the easiest path.
And though others may decide to point and laugh.
If there's something you really want, there's nothing I'd more strongly recommend,
Than taking the hardships on board, and pursuing it to the end.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/02/7-ambition.html
When Mother Earth is getting you down, please don't mind her
This day will soon be through, and tomorrow will be kinder
I understand, dear sir, you've had a rough day
Work has been hard, nothing has gone your way
Go back home, lay your head to rest
Life will get better, I can clearly attest
For Mother Earth will stop soon, please don't mind her
This day will soon be through, and tomorrow will be kinder
And madam, I know you've been under a great deal of stress
But I care not if your clothes are dirty or your hair is a mess
For all dark clouds will soon clear the sky
If you just wait, the darkness will drift right by
Mother Earth is just being herself, please don't mind her
This day will soon be through, and tomorrow will be kinder
Dear friend, this world can be a very strange place
Big and scary, and intimidating to face
But all fears will pass, all dangers will release
Hold my hand, and together we'll wait for the dark today to cease
Mother Earth is having a rough time herself, please be kind to her
This day will soon be through, and tomorrow will be kinder
Inspiration: Tomorrow Will Be Kinder - The Secret Sisters
Original poem: http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/02/6-tomorrow-will-be-kinder.html
We don't often acknowledge the existence of people we don't know
Those we don't find safe to talk to
But very occasionally, we give a brief gesture, mumble or glance in their direction
Signals which can mean anything from 'stay off my territory' to 'I find you attractive, but I'm too scared to act on this inclination'
But there is one type of engagement with strangers which I really treasure.
One that looks like nothing to the mere outsider.
The Nod.
Not just 'a nod' but 'The Nod'. The one that says:
We are both insignificantly small beings, on an insignificantly small piece of rock hurtling at many miles an hour through space.
And on that insignificant rock there are billions and billions of humans, all of whom have an entirely unique perspective on life and history of experience of their time on this earth.
That out of all these billions and billions of beings, our paths, yours and mine, have happen to cross just once.
They may do so again, but we wont realise so it doesn't count then.
But this time, we share the moment, not only of how unlikely and insignificant we are, but of how unique and how special we are as well.
That our past, our decisions and our experiences have bought us both to this point are both different and will take us different places in the future, but right now we're at the same point in time and space, and experiencing this same moment of life together.
And we acknowledge that with The Nod.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/01/5-nod.html
They say that beauty isn't only skin deep
That beneath the surface is what really counts
The bit still alive in the dark when we sleep
It's certainly important, by all accounts
But then why is presentation everything?
Why should it ever matter at all?
If all that truly matters is the presence you bring,
Then why on earth should we have to dress nice for a ball?
Now this is an annoyance of a personal type
One that I've struggled to attack after many a pursuit
It may be Oxonian blasphemy, but I've never believed the hype
That comes when you dress in a well-tailored suit.
It's impractical, can't you see?
It's only through society that it claims it's pride
It's with us throughout life, the bizarre formality
In birthday suits we're born, buried formal in suits when we've died.
If I ever go, it'll be how I lived, in something I'd naturally wear
But it's hard to escape, there's suits on everything you see
Even a banana in a tuxedo, I swear!
So let's end this, I plea.
I've never had the grandest of ambitions
But we'll never escape this suit-fixation unless
We work together to make this plan come to fruition
And formally end this madness.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/01/4-risky-rant-risky-per-suit.html
I am but an idea,
But that's not much, I fear.
Sure, some ideas are really something to impress
And just happen to find the right cortex to address
Strike the person right down to the core
To be not just an idea, but become something more.
...That's not me.
I'm just the idea that is the silent epiphany
And though I may not have the most dramatic of effects
I'm the quiet realisation that the world connects
And while I'm not going to make you famous, or change the earth
I may help you realise that you are, at least, of a little worth.
That maybe there is actually a reason, after all this while.
I am but a small idea that may give you a small smile
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/01/3-i-am-but-idea.html
2 The Chattering Classes
Collecting phrases is a habit of mine, it's just something to do as time passes.
And I have to say I struggle to think of a phrase I find more fine than 'the chattering classes'
(Thats a great rhyme by the way, it works no matter how you'd pronounce it
But this here couplets a little pretentious, so I'm going to go ahead and renounce it).
Anyway,
I pledge today
To become a member of the chattering elite
Those who know me know my chatter is hard to beat
But I have a feeling, if I were to bite the bullet and put myself to the test
I would find it difficult to chatter with the best
My words are weak, my lexicon is lax - at its worst its banter
I can talk you into a trance but I know I'm not an enchanter
If I really want to join this most distinguished of professions
To get into these chattering classes, I'm gonna need some lessons.
http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2013/01/2-chattering-classes.html
The odds may be a million to one, but that hasn't stopped me yet
For it's when you take your greatest risk that you feel most alive, when you place all your chips on one bet
See, I know I'm the eternal underdog in this game
I accept that willingly and show no shame
Who wants to be the favourite, right from the start?
How then do you show resolve, courage and heart?
So far in life, I've pushed a lot of boundaries back
But the edges are still there, waiting for my attack
So if you want to witness this battle, then stay right here
Because the battle for this boundary is gonna take all year.
A mission statement for this podcast, outlining my plan to record my poems over at harryisapoet.blogspot.com.
This episode contains an Ira Glass quote, which is shown with excellent typography at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbC4gqZGPSY