Connection – project statement

living, rhymes and rhythm


 Helen War

 

For every window opened there’s a person closing blinds

and for every piece of wisdom there’s a stale set of minds

But the technologic system that exists in every home

Can connect you to the people that have itchy feet to roam

In a way this makes it easy, and the challenge is at stake

Rest assured I’m troubled often, ‘til resolve begins to shake

And the distance is a blackness, where a single woman walks

In a flurrying of footsteps, sure that every shadow stalks

Then a pressing urge that peers into the dark and sees a light

Starts to confidently grow and creepy creatures lose their bite

For I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve been saved by a café

That connects me to my family when foreboding comes my way

It’s the reason keyboards hang above in printed brick-like wall

As they’ve built me up and wiped my tears and made sense of my scrawl

So repetition rips apart the righteous sense of real

I love the unoriginal with borrowed sense of zeal

The place you run to blows away stagnation in the trade

Art starts to house the wounded and they’re whinging they need aid

Now I don’t forget the reason I am running from the rest

I’m afraid they’ll draw my curtains for a personal conquest

The dilemma is I push away the ones who love me most

In a constant candid manner like the careless burn their toast

But for every blind that’s closed, unwilling wider world won’t wait

And the myth of work for happiness creates a tasty bait

Meaning those that close their eyes to all surprise are most sedate

With excuses so depressing they don’t dignify debate

My assertions hold me ransom though you’d likely never tell

I’ve begun to take a dark delight my mother named me Hell

 

 

Ya Flaming Galah

 

 

 

 

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Present for dear Vicky

living, loving, rhymes and rhythm

 

You seem to me a puzzle, and I’ve lost the missing piece

But I can’t accept I’m lacking, so my searching I increase

This I’m sorry for, it’s weakness. I begin to mend my ways

as I focus on the harmony that brings together strays

And I know that I’m demanding, and abrasive, and acute

It’s a reminiscent remnant of the need to be astute

To have weaponry of wording when attacks begin to sail

And you know what I refer to, it’s a certain kind of male

There’s a forceful urge inside me to attain a certain state

Where the challenges of life that should be tackled lie in wait

I am brutal in appraisal of my actions and my mind

Forgetting when I question you I need to be more kind

But Vicky, it’s your birthday, and we will not linger here

The tears I cry this moment have made something very clear

I’ll always seek my family for solace and release

Please enjoy the day, I love you, and my gift to you is peace.

 

 

 

Two sister trees

 

 

Semi Lucid

living, rhymes and rhythm

 

Weak as weak does. Week in, weak out. Wreak shouts upon bleak

lands around, noisy now, speckled gothic grey then shrillish shriek.

Careful, close. Carry those whose tongues have stung the weakened young

and force the course of dark remorse. Morse coding sung til jury’s hung

defining findings binding you at last to lore of loveless past

now greets this heated piece of meat in lands of lucid licks that last

where peppered paper green and tapered tested, tethered, tied and preened

is bound by bounding hounds.  They’re hounding hopes that hackers can be weaned.

See silver staining stores remaining rolling round revered by reems

Though cotton can keep comforted by an arm unarmed unalarmed by themes.

Solace, sentimental steers the ship’s sweet wooden wasteland, hasty taste banned

can the crap canned calling cat bland, wearing glare of dirty hat stand.

Sleepless sifting softly, writing raw, the dawn adorns the window, gold.

Now noted nodding off, no more the floor feels warm and calls me, sleep! I’m sold.

 

Mooning me, meanders mindful looking down upon the mindless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Make it a grande, world.

rhymes and rhythm

It’s time to cast aside the residues of websites past and embrace citizenship in the ever-forward blogging nation. This is your host for the post with the most, Helen War. It’s a delight to be here, on this planet, in this moment.

There’s nothing but blue sky, a breeze in my mind
for there’s never a reason to grey what you find
There’s nothing to cover the light of a life
if you hover above all the hurt and the strife
And once you’re up there you can look down below
at the people who suffer to put on a show
They’re the ones with the tedious jobs that they hate
loudly blaming the world but they make their own fate

So you float down to Earth and you see with new eyes
All the people with vision that can’t recognise
That your happiness cannot be bought, bound or bartered
the route to this finding is not simply chartered
Instead it is lying in wait of your choices
And listens to singing and single sharp voices
In harmony with what the world has to give
And filter detritus, keep good like a sieve.

peace