Love's Series

Love's Imagination

To love someone deeply gives you strength.
Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage.
~ Lau Tzu

Our time together was sweet my love,
Time spent together has ended at last
As push has finally come to shove,
And now we must consider fast
Where we shall meet each other above,
As the fields of the next world are vast,
And the hand of God removes its glove
To make this life of ours part of the past.

You gave me the strength to face each day,
To stop from trying to end my life,
Our wedding had no chance of nay,
For the rest of our eternity: man and wife.
To this it has come and I never did pray,
Faith was not necessary to fight this knife,
And with the final breaths one does say:
I’ll see you soon, our time is rife.

Leaving you to your new existence,
Seeing your body pool with vital fluid,
I take up mine and seek vengeance,
For a world without you is truly arid,
And though this strength has transience,
And my courage is only briefly rabid,
They manifest from your absence,
They burn and linger like a celestial acid.

When retribution is ultimately found,
When my soul’s hunger is no more,
When I can listen to the satisfying sound,
Of gargling as I pierce his core.
But though he is now blood drowned,
My imagination and emotions are sore,
So I return to my real princess bound,
My strength and courage spore.


Love's Language

It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic
struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words.
~ T. S. Elliot

Deep love and language,
The expression of passion,
Hard to explain or gauge,
How a person truly feels,
When words are only seals.

They restrict love, our lust,
That’s all we really need,
For words will have us bust,
Because our souls don’t speak,
Another way do they seek.

Lay you down next to me,
Remove the barriers of sense,
Allow us both to clearly see,
Spiritually commune together,
Without words we are sure.

“I love you”, one of the charms,
But this I do not require,
If you’ll take me in your arms,
And show me your love’s form,
Keep me from the speaking storm.


Love's Secrecy

Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without
and know we cannot live within.
~ James A. Baldwin

When we first began dating,
Part of me suspected
That you would not sing
To the tune I expected.
I don’t blame you though,
Given what we now know.

When you told me “No more”,
I held back the pain and fear,
Holding onto hope, a shore,
Clinging to you, my dear.
I could never have let go,
Given what I didn’t know.

I continued to love you,
Whether you realised or not,
I knew it was what I had to do,
My golden, magic, only shot.
Poisoned dart that I blow,
It took you time to know.

I tried to move from the past,
But I could not scale that wall,
Without you I cannot last,
My one, my only, my all.
We have something to show,
Now that you too know.


Note: I in no way regret nor hold any ill will because of my hidden feelings in 2006, quite the contrary, it was strangely nice to spend time with her in a way where we didn't have an official commitment to each other (and means that our dedication to one another was and is all the stronger). That said, I am glad things have gone the way they have, because I realised I didn't want anyone else.


Love's Proximity

Can miles truly separate you from friends? If you want
to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?
~ Richard Bach

I’m hours from you by train,
Talking to you keeps me sane,
Here I will for some time remain,
For here I have much to gain.

My love cannot tire from this,
Only grow stronger when I kiss,
Only get fonder because I miss,
Only allow me, seeing you, bliss.

Distance means nothing to me,
As with you I will forever be,
In a way you don’t touch or see,
A connection filled solely with glee.


Love's Comfort

A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy.
~ George Jean Nathan

Our souls in privacy are one of two,
Excited in me brings the same in you,
As passion is the core of our language,
Like animals in a furious rage.

After pleasure fades away it leaves room,
For comfort of body and soul to bloom,
Less of a joy, this is nothing like that,
In your arms is where I want to be at.

Laying together, arms tightly wrapped,
We may not notice when we have napped,
For nowhere else can I find such great peace,
Never let me go, do not ever cease.


Love's Tomb

Take away love, and our earth is a tomb.
~ Robert Browning

I smell the musty fetid air
Of a world that misplaced love,
Dust of the dead swirling
Through the streets once fair.

It all began when love died,
Started to become petty,
Where the respect was lost,
When all breath was sighed.

From then it spiralled again,
Small spats, hysterical fights,
A pair once bound by vows
Went psychotically insane.

Beyond that it went too far,
To physical violence and pain,
Hell created by one another
Water replaced by boiling tar.

The climax was soon at hand,
As weapons were brandished,
And now, buried they are,
No longer do they stand.

Love does forever remain,
In the ashes of this earth,
It will never cease to exist,
And for us, never be a bane.

I would never end you and I
In fear of this happening,
For love cannot be lost,
Only taken away with a sigh.


Love's Apology

Love means not ever having to say you're sorry.
~ Erich Segal

I’m sorry that I have to go,
That I need to leave you here,
Never looking to the rear,
Not letting my pain show.

I’m sorry for not telling you,
For keeping it a secret so long,
I’ll never again sing you our song,
Because of what I need to do.

I’m sorry because it hurts deeply,
Know that it tears at my soul,
This was never once my goal:
The prices have been paid steeply.

But for all this I have no worry,
Because of your love and respect,
And the morality that you expect,
I have no need to say sorry.


Love's Appreciation

The way to love anything is to realise that it may be lost.
~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

You were there for me,
A long time together.

I was there for you,
The feelings we gather.

There for each other,
Love’s come hither.

You left me one day,
Never lasts forever.

Goodbye you did say,
Truth is love’s tether.

Never to return again,
Sombre honest heather,

So part did we then,
Predictable as weather.

I will try to find another,
Who’s less of a bother.

They never will be you,
But a pain breather.

I miss you my love,
That’s why I dither.

I wish to be born again,
To prevent this wither.


Note: While my experience with my girlfriend allows this to be dedicated to her because of the insight it gave me, it is also dedicated to my College English Literature teacher, Hayley (for events in her life I won't go into).

Technical note: This poem can be read 3 different ways - line 1 & line 2 of each stanza together all the way down, only line 1 of each stanza all the way down, or only line 2 of each stanza all the way down.

Poetry Selections

To Myself, Darkly

I see myself in myself,
Regress for all my life,
Images of darkness
Placed on a shelf,
Confusion forever rife,
Photographic assess.

I see myself in myself,
Photo, o' little photo,
Little photo of I,
Represents oneself,
Infinite visual canto,
I'm behind it, for I'm shy.

I see myself in myself,
Abundant possibilities,
But all truly the same,
For I am a simple self,
Lacking complex worries,
And this photo I do tame.


Blurb

Inside and out I'm simply me,
Feelings that you don't know,
Emotions you cannot see,
But a body that I can show.

To you and everyone I meet,
We may not exchange stories,
So there's no room for deceit,
And I must appear to please.

My looks are a summary of me,
One that I wear every hour,
I must make sure my looks will be,
Honest about me and never sour.

But whether you know me or not,
My appearance will impose:
Take me seriously with a spot
Of black paint on my nose.


Train of Thoughts

Ahh, I relax, traveling by rail,
Wild feline on metal
At the station, like a snail.

Kids returning from school,
Fighting, bickering as one,
Showing off to girls by the pool.

A crow atop the stone’s ident,
Shimmying left and right
With talons, forming a trident.

Moving again down the line,
Past the fields, houses, and waste,
And like the kids and the crow,
The rails painfully whine.

At Havant, I board a new train,
Loud, it tilts and groans,
Into darkness we plunge, not sane,
And then all I want is to get off.


Forever?

I can never believe that you or I,
Could end, may stop, might fade.
Will die.
For how can either you or me,
Pop into life, then cease to be?

Maybe it’s my immortality desire,
To exist forever, to the end of time.
To never tire.
To be the watcher, the keeper,
Of the mortal folk under my meter.

I put my faith in a higher reality,
Of a spiritual existence pre-life.
After mortality.
From where we came, we will return,
To allow our immortal fire to burn.

But perhaps I should leave a mark,
On those who have yet to come.
Give a spark.
Inspire future generations’ wisdom,
No more than part of a human sum.


Patience

I made a mistake in hindsight
Naked torso to the ultra violent,
Ultraviolet light.

Burnt were my back and front,
Searing pain struck me fast and hard
Like a brutal shunt.

For days post cooking my body broke
As the punishments for my mind
My body spoke.

Sleepless, lonely nights of thought,
The result of pain I just wish
They’d cut short.

The heat swells both outside and in
Movement restricted, and blisters erupt
On my skin.

Then came the most agonising ordeal,
Huge challenge of resistance,
An endurance seal.

Itching, painful, needles they try to slay
Hours I suffered, nothing to alleviate,
It must stay.

Time stretched on through challenges
Of my soul, a self-inflicted castigation
He says.

But giving in is useless as already
I know that time heals if I persist
And stay steady.

When my layers fall away, useless and old,
I rejoice as motility returns, feeling renewed
And cold.


Scrapheap

Beauty comes in many forms,
Many places and at any time,
From people, to fields of flowers and storms,
But an underestimated fellow is the scrapheap,
Overflowing with waste and grime,
To see the beauty you must look deep.

The beauty of the scrapheap is threefold,
The purpose is serves to humankind,
The shining of cans and the colours of mould,
And the diversity of cultures it sees,
About its reputation the ‘heap doesn’t mind,
For its beauty unlike most, is held in threes.

Like plants feed on our wasted air,
The scrapheap’s existence is comprised,
Of what we no longer want or need to be there,
And regardless of this, the scrapheap still serves,
So why is it not adored or prized,
With its iron will and steel nerves.

Put deepness aside, we look to the surface,
Banana peels, discarded bike wheels,
When something loses purpose, it becomes a disgrace,
So why is the glorious scrapheap disgusting,
When of all our creations, all of the skills,
Scrapheap is the most unique, it has the most meaning.


Deathly Beauty

I sit and stand each day and night,
Waiting for you to give me sight.
But as you pass you turn away,
Be it light or dark, night or day.

The dew flows down smooth from me,
Can you not, or won’t you see?
The dancing of my crystal spires,
You’re more concerned with rubber tires.

A timeless being cycling on,
Seeds that fly, one becomes my son.
Nurture by nature, and epoch,
More in life yet, you forge your mock.

Mirror for you, I surely am,
Not for the tiger nor the lamb.
See your choices in me my friend,
Soon your life will be at an end.

Blind to the deathly beauty now,
I ask the question to you: how?
Look for the joy: the dancing me,
Find the beauty: the winter tree.


A Frog Concern

- I -

Early morning, two ante meridiem,
Coming in from the human labour.

I spot something moving underfoot,
Bending down to see whom it is.

A tiny creature of innocence and joy,
The frog waves proverbially at me.

Hopping back and forth, confused,
Head hitting the door four times.

I’m curious as to how dumb he is,
How he can do it without care.

He doubles back, bouncing away.
I follow, glass in hand to capture.

The predator sleeps atop a throne,
His purring starts, a stretch.

The tiny morsel stops close-by,
But I, the human, intervene in time.

Released outside, the frog is free,
And I breathe a sigh of relief.

- II -

Bringing in my human transport,
I am now cautious of my tread.

How is it that my awareness
Triggers off my emotion: concern.

Are my motives of saving the time
It took to free helpless in my care?

Or is it actually some form of worry
That accompanies the godhood.

I hear a crack, my toes scream,
Looking down, I am relieved.

The victim of this crime was
Simply a snail, not the frog.

- III -

Next night comes after human time,
And I hear the mewing of a servant.

I tend to the unconditionally loving,
To find a plaything in his midst.

I search, I look, I feel, I encourage
Him to show me what he has.

Out hops the frog, a rear leg hacked
Clean from its socket. The cat purrs.

Maybe my concerns were all for naught,
For nature is a brutal cycle.

I am merely along for a ride,
And ethics are a human condition.

The frog was a noble creature,
Innocent and undeserving of this fate.

But there’s little I can do in the end,
And I find myself more helpless than he.

Mediocrity and Social Contribution

Why do martial arts?

I have a better question: why do anything? You're going to die, and it'll accomplish very little in the next 1000 years for you to really do anything with your life. Oh that's right, because individuals do impact society, either by their own exploits or as part of a communal contribution. What was I thinking...

There's very little for us to do in life but enjoy ourselves and try to make a contribution to the species, because we are finite beings. We won't get to see what happens in the twenty-third century, so we have two things we can do: we can enjoy our short lives, and we can do what we can to ensure that we make humanity better. We're like bricks in a house, whether you want to recognise it or not we leave behind a mark on humanity, and each of us is important in the whole: our individual actions affect small groups, which affect larger groups, which affect larger groups in turn, which can affect society and even civilisation.

So maybe your training is for fun. So is mine. But in addition to the training itself, I find satisfaction in pushing myself and achieving new things, new heights. This might affect other people who I train with, make them push harder, and they might go out and affect other people. Or they might not, I might affect them negatively by making them feel bad, and they might soon stop training because they feel outclassed and that there's no point, and might go on to focus on other aspects, and end up affecting those areas.

Why do I train? Because I enjoy it. I'm the kind of person who enjoys martial arts, I don't know why. I don't know why I enjoy writing as well. Maybe I'm looking to understand myself and the world around me, and have chosen these routes to try and do so. I find things like football to be trivial (perhaps because I see it as a shall, media-drenched, over-hyped sport which takes up too much of human concern where it should be spent elsewhere), other people don't (it brings them enjoyment to watch it or to play it). So which is better? Who is right?

Athletes of extraordinary skill have come out of both football and martial arts, who have, for thousands of years, pushed the known boundaries of the human capability to its very limits. There are also athletes of moderate skill (the supporting bands in music). Both football and martial arts also have the amateurs, people who aren't famous but still train in and play them anyway. Why would they bother? They enjoy it. Moving beyond amateurs' concerns, I'm sure a fair few of the professional athletes are quite humbled by the number of amateurs there are who look up to them, driving them to perform better, which in turn gives the amateurs a higher pedestal to move toward, to look up to.

For years I've always thought of football as something that humanity might be better off without. But I've come to realise that it is, quite simply, the result of human creativity, of the drive to seek pleasure and happiness, and more lately the result of such a large a population of intelligent beings. There can only be so many people who contribute to any one field before the progress of that field can go no faster. Generally, the professionals will make the largest contribution, and the amateurs will sit in their shadows, trying to be like them, living their lives for their own reasons.

Maybe we won't all be famous and acclaimed, and the success rate for that is low. But maybe that's not the point. Maybe the point is that, while enjoying our training, we also enjoy the idea, the fantasy, that maybe one day we can be that good. Fantasy can be a lot more powerful than reality in such matters. So why do I train? Why do I write? Because I enjoy them, but why do I enjoy them? Because maybe there's part of me that despite my doubts, believes that I can be famous, that I can leave my mark on humanity. Maybe volvox's altruism gene wasn't the only gene that a species contained for the good of the colony.

Parable of the Present

This was written by a friend of mine. I thought at first about writing my own treatise on why I consider myself an anarchist, but this was so well written I thought it would be best to post it here.


Parable of the Present
Written by Edwin Porter-Daniels

"What people do not realise is that Nineteen Eighty-Four is not a vision of the future, but a parable of the present" - Robert Anton Wilson

More terrifyingly, he said that more than forty years ago.

Whenever I switch on the radio, or watch the television, or walk through a town, or travel on the underground, or catch a bus, a train, a plane, whenever I hear a politcian talk, whenever I consider the society I live in, whenever people talk about "neccesary wars" or "liberal conspiracy" or "security", whenever I see a police officer, or hear an announcement about luggage at a station, or read a newspaper, or go outside, or stay inside, I see Big Brother.

And Big Brother sees me.

Whenever someone suggests something that restricts our freedoms in an obvious and clearcut way, people resist. Identity cards, constant surveilance, compulsory drug testing in schools - Big Brother is coming, they say, look out, if we don't stop this now, it'll be like 1984.

Too late.

I can't see anyway that this is not a distraction technique. If people can be made to concentrate on one particular thing, then they have a target, and they ignore everything else. Like new laws that take away freedom of speech. Or the constant low-level fear response that 99% of society expresses. You might not know what I mean. That just means it's working.

Think about it. Think about the last time you were at a station, preferably in a big city like London. Think about the announcements.

"For your safety... be vigilant... be suspicious..."

Be afraid, that's the real message. The bad guys are out there, and we want you to be scared. Scared people are easier to direct, easier to control. If you're afraid, you can't fight back properly. Let us help you. Let us protect you. Just sign your name on the dotted line...

You might think I'm a conspiracy nut. I'm not - it's not a conspiracy. It's not hidden from view, or plotted from behind the scenes, or masterminded by a shadowy world-wide organisation. It's right out in the open, and we let it by. How could we not, we're trained to, right from birth, right from the moment we first open our eyes. Do what we say. Follow orders. There has to be a government. The law is good. We'll protect you. Buy, buy, buy.

I'm an anarchist. People sometimes react with horror when I say that. They think it means "terrorist". Fear response, fight or flight, let them protect us. Another response is "Don't be stupid, we have to have laws"

No one has ever been able to explain to me why. "But, people will just kill people, and chaos will reign, and death and destruction and argh argh argh" Death, and destruction, and fear fear fear. We're so scared of not being told what to do, because we're told to be scared, we're trained to be scared of it, conditioned.

People have said to me "If there was such a big conspiracy, the government wouldn't let people be communists or socialists or anarchists. You're not in prison, so clearly there's not a conspiracy". Why bother locking people up, if you can manipulate society into never considering their possibilities. Communism, totalitarianism, democracy. They're all, at their most base level, the same. They are all control of the many by the few, enforced by violence. They are all governments. That's what a government *is*.

What about social contract, people ask. What about it? Surely if social contract is what's important it doesn't matter if you have laws or a government anyway? If we're honest, any government rules by fear and violence. There's not other way to rule, and still *be* a government.

We're trained to be scared from the start, from school. Don't get a detention, sit up straight, stand in line, conform conform conform, even if it's to the nice little set of non-conformists, make sure you're scared of stepping out of line. We don't beat kids at school anymore. We've just made what we do less obvious.

Look around you. Wake up. Only you have control over your life, any other control is either an illusion, or you've granted it. The reason that peaceful protest works is that the only response a government can have is violent, and that cannot be prolonged. If we all decide to not be ruled by the government, they do not rule us. If we decide to be unafraid, we will be. Stand up, and be yourself.