CHAPTER 1
ME:
HIDING
I grew up
Hiding myself.
Life was lean and mean,
And when needing a break
Cruel.
Hiding because,
Bad came to mind first,
And bad could always
Get worse.
Confidence was not a friend,
Plans died at hope's dead end,
For deliverance
We were taught to depend.
To shy away
From critiquing eyes,
And scathing tongues,
Cruel intentions of loved ones.
Hide from the enemy
Without hope,
Who became the enemy
Within,
Who tried to devour their kin,
No fear of damnation or sin.
To give and not receive,
To somehow still believe,
That love could endure
Cruelty's presence.
I grew up hiding myself
From people.
Skill grew
And who knew
That before long,
The me I knew
Was gone.
Now I hide myself
From myself.
Trained to not feel,
Taught to not trust.
Pain doesn't hurt anymore
It's expected,
Help doesn't exist anymore
It's rejected.
Strong, firm on a path
Through destruction of self,
To join this society,
Of broken souls
And shattered goals.
I surrendered
I gave in. ...
WITHIN
I feel a pain within,
Intensity mild but consistent,
Almost tangible like breath,
Heart hurting.
Exacerbated by thinking,
Linked to feeling,
But only just.
It's like a pain of being.
A pain too mild to be a pain,
But it paining my brain,
Advil, Panadol can't restrain,
The beginning of responsibility.
I feel this PAIN through me,
But feel it for everybody,
I can't explain really,
It's driving me crazy.
It's like if I don't feel it,
I'm dead.
Dead inside without it,
My pain teaches me,
While simultaneously hurting my memory,
Of self.
I can't remember me,
Through the pain I now see,
On the face of others.
You see, it's not about me,
Pain comes in mild waves
To echo activity in this reality,
And possibly even others.
I've bonded with my pain,
And here it comes again,
Now open like an antenna,
Hinting to an openness in matter,
I surrender to divine chatter.
FREE TO BE?
That I was once
Part of a hive mind,
Connected to source,
Content in time.
Now adrift, mindless
I must decide, choose right from the rest,
Evolve in this cruel contest
Of time and circumstance.
Indignity of ignorance,
Stranger to my environment,
Using luck for conveyance,
As blind methodology
Called free will
Determines my destiny.
Free to what?
Become a victim of chance,
Some mathematical joke programmed in reality
So that I can win my way
Back to the next,
Choice. ...
Win or lose by the way we choose,
Illusion or enigma
Doesn't matter.
The game is rigged
The house always wins.
And your choice is as much yours
As your circumstance is of your own making.
IDLE INTENTION
Born to an act of
Idle circumstance,
Benefactors convinced
I deserve the chance.
Cocooned by raw emotions,
Switched on,
Conscious,
Deliberation.
Identity of self
Powered by passion,
No goal
To guide reaction.
A child powerless,
Unable to chart its direction,
Victim to those who
Could not feel or felt too much,
Broken souls needing divine touch.
Childhood lost through
Duty, compassion and fear,
No blueprint given,
Future mind will stare
In wonderment.
How could it survive
In its mind,
And choose to love,
Not mimicking the cold, heartless
Desire to pity itself as a
Victim.
No, it loved its siblings
First.
Parents after.
Knowing the source of this disaster!
And now grown, it must walk alone,
Bearing the weight of participation,
Receiving hate for giving love
The aftermath of confusion.
Finding peace in conclusion,
They all survived,
Built lives despite
Tainted solution.
Now prayers are answered
All delivered beyond that illusion.
The voices still come:
'What will happen to them
What will they become?
They are doomed for destruction.'
So I was raised in a trance,
Proud soldier of man's creation,
Freed by time, shaped by pain,
Void of intention.
HEROES
I grew up lacking heroes.
A whole string of nameless zeroes,
Faulty memory
Gave no kudos.
Not their fault though,
I was just closed,
No seeing myself in them
I suppose.
Confidence underdeveloped,
Exposure limited,
I chose to remain empty,
While all around me,
Heroes!!
Historically, internationally,
Right there in the community,
Spiritually, sometime physically
Only recently I see.
The new clarity,
Gained from bravery,
To suppress fear,
The last Hero, IS ME!!
OPPORTUNITY COST
My siblings hate me.
In all ways
I was first,
Got the most,
They saw this as my blessing
Never considering it my curse.
Wanting nothing,
Duty came first
My will slaved to theirs,
No infant wishes or cares.
My brother's keeper,
My mother's son,
From the beginning
Till time is done,
Victim to my past,
An army of one.
I defend and protect,
They curse and run,
Their pursuer
Trapped in memory and time.
It can't catch me,
My duty won't let me
Give in to self-pity,
But I'll never be happy,
My fate is slaved to theirs.
So as they run
And demons chase,
I will long for
That elusive embrace.
That encouraging word,
That smiling face,
Because my siblings hate me
But duty still has its place.
DESTINY
I awoke to
The sound of
Dissatisfaction.
Descent, disgust,
Resentment and affliction,
I feel it.
It's clear that we are
Burdened by an enemy,
That has concurred,
Subdued
And changed us
In our minds.
To be what they
Made us to be,
But I am awake.
So, with passion
My only weapon
I try to wake those next to me.
But they slumber,
Contently
Oblivious to the danger
That I see.
Then I hear laughter,
And a voice saying
Convincingly
"You will never wake them
This place is designed
For sleep you see."
These words puzzled me
As it sank into my psyche,
I lay down, closed my eyes
And I woke up ...
PURPOSE
Life can be void
Of condition,
Routine, ritual,
Inherited Religion.
But we must own
Our position,
Capable of discerning
Through timely decision,
To aid destiny.
We arrive at knowing,
And must build ability,
Socialised through shared reality,
To be discarded eventually.
There is no mystery,
No fixed reality, no shared inheritance
That will trump our destiny.
We are the point
Of the experiment you see,
To record our path
Through choice,
To record what we opt to be,
As we repeat aspects of this journey.
We arrive not...
