Sleep stalks a young child
and the moon romances the night
upon whose breast she rests.
Dreams fly in and out
of open windows, some sit
on their favourite windowsills
and watch peaceful faces,
limp limbs with curled fingers.
I sit on the edge of your bed
with my hand on your heart
and together
with the dreams of the universe
I watch over your sleep.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
If...
If I were but a leaf falling from the burdened weight of your weary limbs,
I would waft my way
through the spaces of your turbulent sways
Leaving drops of my chlorophyll spies
to fill your horizon with shades of new life.
But here I stick to my heavy branch
Too weary to detach
My stems uncertain, heaving doubtful sighs;
eyes blinded by colourless promises in cloudless skies,
Hope floats beyond the shifting spaces,
hiding plainly from our weeping lies.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Sweet Limbo
Unstuck and perched on a branch of uncertainty
yet cradled by the majesty of freedom,
betwixt two worlds and poised for the sweetness of NEW...
...go
Friday, May 27, 2011
Mustard Seed
Mustard seed sometimes blow upon the winds,
They blow across feilds... their own, across strange new fields,
and through cities. There many of the wandering seed die,
smashed on windshields, crushed beneath heavy trucks or unsuspecting leather shoes.
Some seed settle on windowsills and sow for a steady future.
They can no longer bear the dangers of nomadic life.
The rest they ride on the winds, onward looking,
feeling, singing, seeing and dying...they ride.
They blow across feilds... their own, across strange new fields,
and through cities. There many of the wandering seed die,
smashed on windshields, crushed beneath heavy trucks or unsuspecting leather shoes.
Some seed settle on windowsills and sow for a steady future.
They can no longer bear the dangers of nomadic life.
The rest they ride on the winds, onward looking,
feeling, singing, seeing and dying...they ride.
Quietening of Soul
Not much doing
Not a lot to say
I live by my mood
from day to day
...took an awful lot of work to grant myself the permission
to live this way.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
ChildBirth
Dewdrops delicately dent
the brittle balance
of moisture in our
garden and along comes
Sunshine.
Singing silver splinters
streak a shining sky,
clouds calmly clumsily clear
the channel through which
arrives "a" glorious day.
All this a mere prelude,
natures very own red carpet
rolled out, rolled out...
rolled out
for you.
the brittle balance
of moisture in our
garden and along comes
Sunshine.
Singing silver splinters
streak a shining sky,
clouds calmly clumsily clear
the channel through which
arrives "a" glorious day.
All this a mere prelude,
natures very own red carpet
rolled out, rolled out...
rolled out
for you.
The Condensed Yet Unabridged Conclusion to Anthropology... (theatrical version)
Act I
You: Hey! What are you doing?
Me: Me? I'm just living in my narrow mind.
Act II
Me: Hey! What are you doing?
You: Me? I'm just living in my marrow mind.
You: Hey! What are you doing?
Me: Me? I'm just living in my narrow mind.
Act II
Me: Hey! What are you doing?
You: Me? I'm just living in my marrow mind.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Fabulous 30s
emancipation from the superficial bothers of youth -
into the calm evaluation of meaning and purpose -
celebration of elevation to the majestic heights of adulthood -
rich in humility, deep wonder, and true wisdom -
...
what a crock of shit!
into the calm evaluation of meaning and purpose -
celebration of elevation to the majestic heights of adulthood -
rich in humility, deep wonder, and true wisdom -
...
what a crock of shit!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Self in the (re)Making
Ink this life
like blue on canvas
Colour me deep
in an absurd masterpiece of grace...
like blue on canvas
Colour me deep
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Presence Ever Immediate
 |
| foto from fffound.com |
The objects of desire
are moving targets
NOW is eternally OWNed
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Humanity's Taunting Twilight
Twilight taunts today again
as the world enters darkness unwilling.
It is carelessly embraced by serpent jaws,
into its constricting belly,
where life and purity are sucked away
as it sojourns the night,
emerging a new world on a new day.
The serpent expels its ruined
egg-shelled edifice to the morning sun.
as the world enters darkness unwilling.
It is carelessly embraced by serpent jaws,
into its constricting belly,
where life and purity are sucked away
as it sojourns the night,
emerging a new world on a new day.
The serpent expels its ruined
egg-shelled edifice to the morning sun.
Somebody Love Me
Sometimes I dream, he dreams
and it may not altogether be a dream
in which from which he, I scream
Somebody love me,
Somebody love me, somebody love me.
I think, I don't know but it may be
that the mountains carrying my echo
are asking, crying for the same thing...
Somebody love me.
and it may not altogether be a dream
in which from which he, I scream
Somebody love me,
Somebody love me, somebody love me.
I think, I don't know but it may be
that the mountains carrying my echo
are asking, crying for the same thing...
Somebody love me.
my hands are reaching, reaching into nothing
into darkness, i hold out my hands
my fingers have nothing to hold
so they hold themselves.
It is there, insecure and alone
that i take off my clothes and get into bed
and you... you hold me on the neck in sleep yourself
and say "You're back safely...'
I say nothing.
That's the only act of love I truly remember
I said nothing,
I very comfortably said nothing.
into darkness, i hold out my hands
my fingers have nothing to hold
so they hold themselves.
It is there, insecure and alone
that i take off my clothes and get into bed
and you... you hold me on the neck in sleep yourself
and say "You're back safely...'
I say nothing.
That's the only act of love I truly remember
I said nothing,
I very comfortably said nothing.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Lip Service
Kiss me softly with promises of lasting sweet
that surely sour at daybreak.
Kiss me hard with determined desire for my essence most assured
when darkness is illuminated with twinkling stars.
But at dawn, I watch you breathe with ease
And I smile at the promises I make.
I carry them under the bright light of the blue
Anxious and certain to give them to you.
At dusk I wait...anxious and certain
...until you kiss me...
Monday, April 18, 2011
Mnemosyne Holds Fears As Swords
Fear of trying isn't fear of failure.
Fear of trying is fear of success.
fear of success is fear of ... your greatness ... of feeling right and joyful in your greatness
and perpetuates the willingness to live a mediocre life of minimal effort
so you can believe
you never failed.
But you did.
you do
when you deny yourself
(you deny yourself the possibility to surpass your expectations
to supersede
at light speed
the great expectations you fear others have of you)
and you know this.
If the only thing we have to fear is fear itself
then why not live in a banquet guided by the immortal force of Zeus and Mnemosyne who by three threes of whimsical nights gave us eternal inspiration to scream creation?
Do you feel the invigorating force of life coursing through your veins...when you deny your inner muse the chance to express something,
anything,
just because you... didn't... want... to... feel... embarrassed?
Me neither.
What about when you lock yourself up, denying the tribal coding and mating callings resident in your DNA since the dawn of ... 'us'?
Fear of love isn't fear of heartbreak
Fear of love is fear of happiness... followed by heartbreak -
we believe we know this...
It's fear of happiness ...actually.
and I know this.
But maybe we are already broken if we fear to risk to feel happy in love?
If happiness is freedom
Then fear is a cage
a cage to keep us safe from reaching for chance
for sheer fright of a journey we would fool ourselves to believe
is best left untraveled;
to remain cobbled in the persistent weight of a hardening heart
changing into a block from the blocks of fear that paralyze
our dreams to roam free in search of life that includes
our dreams
and broken dreams
and razor sharp incisions from raptures so delicious that we should pivot on the banks of
Lethe and delve into her shallow pool, sucking it dry, making streams of light
pierce through the somnambulistic shadows cast by Hades in the Underworld
Why not give birth naturally without the amnesia
return purpose to Mnemosyne
let her show us the fullness of this life affirming journey
of assured godliness
of taking up fear as sword
reapportioning our knowledge of pain
rediscovering a-gain the cherubim of nostalgia
who return us to the place where 'knowing' is nothing if we own it alone.
And sharing is 'unknowing' to feel something new.
And feeling something new is reaching for the journey.
Breaking Blocks.
Engaging Senses.
Burning Muscle.
Letting Light.
Wielding Swords.
Creating New.
Birthing Our Greatness.
Sounds grand, like big plan
to live in sweet memory of what you already knew
but really, it's a simple truth to choose
Fear of trying isn't fear of failure.
Fear of trying is fear of your success.
Fear of love isn't fear of heartbreak.
Fear of love is fear of your happiness.
Happiness is a decision.
So is fear.
...and we should choose to know this.
© Berette Macaulay
Fear of trying is fear of success.
fear of success is fear of ... your greatness ... of feeling right and joyful in your greatness
and perpetuates the willingness to live a mediocre life of minimal effort
so you can believe
you never failed.
But you did.
you do
when you deny yourself
(you deny yourself the possibility to surpass your expectations
to supersede
at light speed
the great expectations you fear others have of you)
and you know this.
If the only thing we have to fear is fear itself
then why not live in a banquet guided by the immortal force of Zeus and Mnemosyne who by three threes of whimsical nights gave us eternal inspiration to scream creation?
Do you feel the invigorating force of life coursing through your veins...when you deny your inner muse the chance to express something,
anything,
just because you... didn't... want... to... feel... embarrassed?
Me neither.
What about when you lock yourself up, denying the tribal coding and mating callings resident in your DNA since the dawn of ... 'us'?
Fear of love isn't fear of heartbreak
Fear of love is fear of happiness... followed by heartbreak -
we believe we know this...
It's fear of happiness ...actually.
and I know this.
But maybe we are already broken if we fear to risk to feel happy in love?
If happiness is freedom
Then fear is a cage
a cage to keep us safe from reaching for chance
for sheer fright of a journey we would fool ourselves to believe
is best left untraveled;
to remain cobbled in the persistent weight of a hardening heart
changing into a block from the blocks of fear that paralyze
our dreams to roam free in search of life that includes
our dreams
and broken dreams
and razor sharp incisions from raptures so delicious that we should pivot on the banks of
Lethe and delve into her shallow pool, sucking it dry, making streams of light
pierce through the somnambulistic shadows cast by Hades in the Underworld
Why not give birth naturally without the amnesia
return purpose to Mnemosyne
let her show us the fullness of this life affirming journey
of assured godliness
of taking up fear as sword
reapportioning our knowledge of pain
rediscovering a-gain the cherubim of nostalgia
who return us to the place where 'knowing' is nothing if we own it alone.
And sharing is 'unknowing' to feel something new.
And feeling something new is reaching for the journey.
Breaking Blocks.
Engaging Senses.
Burning Muscle.
Letting Light.
Wielding Swords.
Creating New.
Birthing Our Greatness.
Sounds grand, like big plan
to live in sweet memory of what you already knew
but really, it's a simple truth to choose
Fear of trying isn't fear of failure.
Fear of trying is fear of your success.
Fear of love isn't fear of heartbreak.
Fear of love is fear of your happiness.
Happiness is a decision.
So is fear.
...and we should choose to know this.
© Berette Macaulay
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
AMERICA
Here in the
psychological
Wasteland
There is
nothing,
Just I
To Know
that I
Am stuck
Here
For another
day
is not that
big a deal.
The sun
is shining
few clouds
Freckle
the blue sky.
It is a beautiful day
and I am
wasted.
psychological
Wasteland
There is
nothing,
Just I
To Know
that I
Am stuck
Here
For another
day
is not that
big a deal.
The sun
is shining
few clouds
Freckle
the blue sky.
It is a beautiful day
and I am
wasted.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Untitled
Love is the nest
in which we rest
the illusions
of our reality
-- () --
Yes its that complex.
in which we rest
the illusions
of our reality
-- () --
Yes its that complex.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Paradox of Wanting
I had a sexy fantasy
That turned into a nightmare:
I got what I wanted
And my desire got killed.
Here I go again...
Sent from my BlackBerry® device from Digicel
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Action Beyond Doubt
Barrelling over the hills
of our beating minds
We insist on new horizons
for our hearts
Never straying from the dream
to make real
A new world order of some
fucking hope!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
TIME
Sit and it will be seen.
Cascading beauty
It moves one motionless.
Where will this end,
oblivion is not that far.
Come in, I'll show you how.
Wet and cold
a young lass weeps
"I have seen infinity
not so long ago
I was sucked, bathed and cleaned"
Yes time will dry her
and she will gleam.
Eternity is ephemeral.
Cascading beauty
It moves one motionless.
Where will this end,
oblivion is not that far.
Come in, I'll show you how.
Wet and cold
a young lass weeps
"I have seen infinity
not so long ago
I was sucked, bathed and cleaned"
Yes time will dry her
and she will gleam.
Eternity is ephemeral.
Longevity
Wonders weave
their way through infinite curves
of a transient time while
The Butterfly bounces
temporary beauty
above fields waving flowers
Though the Butterfly
lives nor lingers long
her presence is not forgotten
True beauty even fleeting
is eternal
their way through infinite curves
of a transient time while
The Butterfly bounces
temporary beauty
above fields waving flowers
Though the Butterfly
lives nor lingers long
her presence is not forgotten
True beauty even fleeting
is eternal
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sign language...
...it isn't always direct or helpful,
but it can make the ordinary look
or sound better.
Monday, February 21, 2011
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