Friday, 28 January 2011

highlights

highlights of this week (in no particular order):

  1. butternut squash and chocolate cake at Nia cafe in Brighton (and a very kind boyfriend who paid!)
  2. new boots! which were just what i'd had in mind, AND reduced, last in the shop and found without any shopping effort! Thank you God for caring about the little things... I'd been praying about it! :-)
  3. breaking - i have started training again and there's lots of people coming to dance on a Monday which makes for a good atmosphere. i am pondering learning some locking since if i am very honest with myself i'll probably never manage to do most breaking moves! doh.
  4. wholegrain bagels with cream cheese... why have i not eaten more of these in my life?!!
  5. horseplay - a monthly night of poetry, music and randomness! i performed 2 poems which i was pleased about and they seemed to go down well. was a mixed evening but there was a brilliant, quite spiritual, moment at the end with some beautiful music and appreciated honesty
  6. housemates. they are just great
  7. new life - this week two friends have become mothers and one friend a grandmother for the first time!

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

CRAVE

-Craving to go swimming- said Helen and I thought -Yes-.
Swimming in and surrounded by and under and filled with and moving and playing and surrendering and taking a risk as feet leave solid ground.

Only to be, only to be with you…

-CRAVING- said Helen
And the word plucked a string buried deep within
causing a sound to ring through my body
a sound almost dischordant
almost uncomfortable in its intensity

CRAVING
it sounds almost animal,
Humanity at its basest level
A desperate need
An urge
Not well presented, polite or polished
NO.

CRAVE
we almost dare not say it
-how uncouth– we murmur with raised eyebrows

CRAVE
When breathing becomes heavy and gaze becomes fixed
When
Nothing else
Nothing else
Nothing else
Nothing else
Matters.

CRAVE
When the world dims to irrelevant and I know the lights will only come back on when you return

CRAVE
This longing that aches my heart
That causes my stomach to twist
Trying to forget its emptiness
And my arms try to run run run away
O please hold me
O please hold me
Take my arms hands face cheeks back eyes ears face body mind thoughts dreams soul
Take me over
I want to be so close to you I can feel your breath
I want to be so close I don’t know where I end and you begin
Hide me under your wings
Envelop me

CRAVE
More than –I want-
more than –I would like-
more than –I need-

CRAVE
is perhaps the only word I can use.


(22 Jan 2011 by me)

Monday, 24 January 2011

Thursday, 20 January 2011

It is the word...

Poetry, my teacher: light the certainties of men and the tone of my words. You see, I risk speech even with bullets piercing phonemes. It is the word – that which is larger than its size – that speaks, does and happens. Here it reels, riddled with bullets. Uttered by toothless mouths in alleyway conspiracies, in deadly decisions. Sounds stir on ocean floors. The absence of sunlight really does darken forests. The strawberry liquid of icecream makes hands sticky. Words are born in thought; leaving lips, they acquire soul in the ears, yet sometimes this auditory magic does not make it as far as the mouth because it is swallowed dry. Massacred in the stomach along with rice and beans, these almost words are excreted rather than spoken. Words balk. Bullets talk”.

Paulo Lins, 'City of God', (p.16)

Tuesday, 4 January 2011

home?

Where are you from?
Uuuuhhh…

Madeinkneyaborninhalifaxbredinbasingstokegrewupinzambiateenagerinoxfordstudiedinbrightonandi’mstillhere

Oh. Right.

So… where’s HOME?

Hmm…

Home can be a house and home can be a place
Home can be a person and home can be an embrace
Home can be a smell or a secret smile
Home can be a corner or a square mile…
Miles… a whole island. Or perhaps the sea.
Home can be a nation and home can
Just
Be
Me
Home can be private or something we share
Home we only notice when we realise it’s not there
Home we long for and home we miss
Home we search for and about home we reminisce
But home is often seen through rose tinted lenses
And when we look more carefully it’s not always as we remembered
But home’s not home cuz it’s perfect or else we’d never fit…

For some it’s four walls and a painted front door
Smells of apple crumble and coming back for more
For some it’s much less tangible like fleeting memories of a dream
It constantly eludes them on the blurry edges of their feeling

Oh home won’t you come find me?
For I am tired of searching
Perhaps you’ll surprise me with a visit one day
When I’ve forgotten what you mean to me
Perhaps you’ll wander in as I sit with a cup of tea
And dear friends
Perhaps you’ll join us at the table as we share food and stories
Perhaps you’ll creep in gradually
Silently
When I no longer care about what I wear
Or the state of my hair
Like a well thumbed book, I’ll be easily read

Yes yes!
Perhaps you’ll enter with a song and a dance
When I am just being myself
At last.

doodles


Saturday, 1 January 2011

2011

happy new year peeps!

here's to a GOODUN'.

enjoyed celebrating last night with great friends, good food, bit of charades, partay..., good wine, brazilian music, samba, living room dancing, cup of tea and chats at 5am, picnic breakfast with candles. yep, an all nighter. it's been a while, i need to go to more parties, have got a bit too serious this year!

not thought about it a whole lot, but resolutions/aims that spring to mind for 2011 are:

- WRITE MORE

- DANCE MORE

- 'BE STILL' MORE

wanderer