Another Plastic Bag

You don’t need another bag
One use plastic’s such a drag
You’ve got a hundred in the drawer
What do you want another for
When you left your car to park it
Heading for the supermarket
Did it not occur to take
A bloody bag for goodness sake
So when you finish buying shit
You’d pull it out and unfold it
And fill it up and la-di-da
Carry your stuff back to your car
It doesn’t take a genius mind
To take one out, not leave behind
A little thought is all it takes
It’s common sense for goodness sakes
It saves at least 5 pence a time
And then of course there is the crime
Of poisoning the planet too
Another thing you’ll cease to do
Because all that plastic just breaks down
In little pieces all around
And finds its way into the sea
Gets eaten by the fish for tea
Then finds itself at a later date
Arriving on your dinner plate
And bags are not the only source
There’s plastic packaging of course
So try to make yourself not buy
That pointless wrapped-in-plastic pie
Or fruit or veg in polythene
We don’t need that to keep it clean
It’s already wrapped in its own skin
Put there by nature to keep it in
And when we peel that to get in
We put that in the compost bin
And that will decompose and then
Becomes some useful soil again
And so the cycle is complete
It goes to grow the food we eat
We need to reassess our ways
Or we will have far fewer days
For our kids of whom we birth
To live upon our mother Earth
We are not here just to consume
So our waste takes up all the room
And our resources disappear
We’re using more stuff every year
Because we only have one finite place
Our little planet floats in space
We’re here by fluke, a lucky shot
And to make the best of what we’ve got
Is what we need to start to do
It’s our last chance, it’s up to you
And though it seems a mighty task
Just start out small is all I ask
So make a change, and then another
You father, son, you daughter, mother
And be a hero and not a drag
You don’t need another bag!

© Richard Holt 2018


“A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.

Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted! ”

+ Gautama Buddha, The Dhammapad

Brené Brown on How to Reckon with Emotion and Change Your Narrative

The most powerful stories may be the ones we tell ourselves, says Brené Brown. But beware—they’re usually fiction.
By Brené Brown

My husband, Steve, and I were having one of those days. That morning, we’d overslept. Charlie couldn’t find his backpack, and Ellen had to drag herself out of bed because she’d been up late studying. Then at work I had five back-to-back meetings, and Steve, a pediatrician, was dealing with cold-and-flu season. By dinnertime, we were practically in tears.

Steve opened the refrigerator and sighed. “We have no groceries. Not even lunch meat.” I shot back, “I’m doing the best I can. You can shop, too!” “I know,” he said in a measured voice. “I do it every week. What’s going on?”

I knew exactly what was going on: I had turned his comment into a story about how I’m a disorganized, unreliable partner and mother. I apologized and started my next sentence with the phrase that’s become a lifesaver in my marriage, parenting and professional life: “The story I’m making up is that you were blaming me for not having groceries, that I was screwing up.”

Steve said, “No, I was going to shop yesterday, but I didn’t have time. I’m not blaming you. I’m hungry.”

Storytelling helps us all impose order on chaos—including emotional chaos. When we’re in pain, we create a narrative to help us make sense of it. This story doesn’t have to be based on any real information. One dismissive glance from a coworker can instantly turn into I knew she didn’t like me. I responded to Steve so defensively because when I’m in doubt, the “I’m not enough” explanation is often the first thing I grab. It’s like my comfy jeans—may not be flattering, but familiar.

Our stories are also about self-protection. I told myself Steve was blaming me so I could be mad instead of admitting that I was vulnerable or afraid of feeling inadequate. I could disengage from the tougher stuff. That’s what human beings tend to do: When we’re under threat, we run. If we feel exposed or hurt, we find someone to blame, or blame ourselves before anyone else can, or pretend we don’t care.

But this unconscious storytelling leaves us stuck. We keep tripping over the same issues, and after we fall, we find it hard to get back up again. But in my research on shame and vulnerability, I’ve also learned a lot about resilience. For my book Rising Strong, I spent time with many amazing people—from Fortune 500 leaders to long-married couples—who are skilled at recovering from setbacks, and they have one common characteristic: They can recognize their own confabulations and challenge them. The good news is that we can rewrite these stories. We just have to be brave enough to reckon with our deepest emotions.

In navigation, dead reckoning is how you calculate your location. It involved knowing where you’ve been and how you got there—speed, route, wind conditions. It’s the same with life: We can’t chart a new course until we find out where we are, how we came to that point and where we want to go. Reckon comes from the Old English recenian, meaning “to narrate.” When you reckon with emotion, you can change your narrative. You have to acknowledge your feelings and get curious about the story behind them. Then you can challenge those confabulations and get to the truth.

I’ll walk you through it. The next time you’re in a situation that pushes your buttons—from a breakup to a setback at work—and you’re overwhelmed by anger, disappointment or embarrassment, try this practice.

Engage with your feelings.

Your body may offer the first clue that you’re having an emotional reaction: for instance, your boss assigns the project you wanted to a colleague, and your face begins to feel hot. Or your response may involve racing thoughts or replaying the event in slow motion. You don’t need to know exactly where the feelings are coming from: you just have to acknowledge them.

My stomach is in knots.
I want to punch a wall.
I need Oreos. Lots of them.

Get curious about the story behind the feelings.

Now you’re going to ask yourself a few questions. Again, it’s not necessary to answer them right off the bat.

Why am I being so hard on everyone?
What happened right before this Oreo craving set in?
I’m obsessing over what my sister said. Why?

This step can be surprisingly difficult. You’re furious because Todd got the project, but it may feel easier to steamroll over your anger with contempt: Todd’s a brownnoser. This company’s a joke. Getting curious about your feelings may lead to some discoveries: What if you’re more hurt than you realized? Or what if your attitude could have played a part? But pushing through discomfort is how we get to the truth.

Write it down.

The most effective way to become truly aware of our stories is to write them down, so get your thoughts on paper. Nothing fancy—you can just finish these sentences:

The story I’m making up…
My emotions…
My thinking…
My body…
My beliefs…
My actions…

For instance, you might write, I’m so peeved. I feel like I’m having a heatstroke. She thinks I’m incapable. I want to hurl a stapler.

You can be mad, self-righteous, confused. A story driven by emotion and self-protection probably doesn’t involve accuracy, logic or civility. If your story contains those things, it’s likely that you’re not being fully honest.

Get ready to rumble.

It’s time to poke and prod at your findings, exploring the ins and outs. The first questions may be the simplest:

1. What are the facts, and what are my assumptions?

I really don’t know why my boss picked Todd. And I didn’t tell her I was interested in the project—I figured she knew.

2. What do I need to know about the others involved?

Maybe Todd has some special skill or she has me in mind for something else.

Now we get to the more difficult questions:

3. What am I really feeling? What part did I play?

I feel so worthless. I’m failing in my career. And I don’t want to ask for anything because someone might say no.

You may learn that you’ve been masking shame with cynicism, or that being vulnerable and asking for what you want is preferable to stewing in resentment. These truths may be uncomfortable, but they can be the basis of meaningful change.

Figuring out your own story could take 20 minutes or 20 years. And you may not make one big transformation; maybe it’s a series of incremental changes. You just have to feel your way through.

If you’re thinking this sounds too hard, I get it. The reckoning can feel dangerous because you’re confronting yourself—the fear, aggression, shame and blame. Facing our stories takes courage. But owning our stories is the only way we get to write a brave new ending.

Brené Brown, PhD, is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work and the author of Daring Greatly. This essay is adapted from her new book, Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution.

The Leaking Pot

leaking pot
An elderly Chinese man had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the man bringing home only one and a half pots of water.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do. After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the man one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”

The old man smiled, “Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side?” “That’s because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.” “For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it’s the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You’ve just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

So, to all of my crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path!

A Rabbi’s Wisdom

One of the best-known tales of marital troubles has appeared in biographical stories of many rabbis, including Dovid’l Talner (1808-1882).

According to this story, a poor villager with a big problem came to see the famous rabbi. “You see, Rabbi, I have a lovely wife and ten wonderful children. But we all live together in only one small room, so that there is not room enough to turn about. Life is miserable for all of us. We have come to you to pray for us, Rabbi.”goat

The rabbi pondered this unusually difficult circumstance and finally came up with an idea. He asked the villager, “Do you, by any chance, own a goat?”

“Yes, of course we do; Rabbi”

The rabbi nodded. “I suggest that you bring the goat into the house to live with your family.” The surprised villager shrugged, but, after all, the advice had come from the learned rabbi, so the goat was brought into the house.

A few days later, however, the villager was back. “Rabbi, the goat wanders all over the house. We cannot put our heads down anywhere without worrying whether the goat will disturb us.”

Rabbi Talner did not offer any sympathy. Instead, he said, ‘Tell me, do you own any chickens?”

The villager said, “Certainly we own chickens”

The rabbi said, “You must take these chickens into the house immediately”

The confused villager was unsure of what to do. Knowing the rabbi to be famous for his learning, the villager decided that he could not go against the rabbi’s advice, and so the chickens were brought into the house.

The villager was back the very next day. “Rabbi, I have brought the chickens into the house as you told me to do. It is impossible now to live in that house.”

The rabbi nodded and said, “You must now remove the goat and the chickens.”

The much-relieved villager was now glad to do as he was told. Several days later the man came back to see Rabbi Talner. “Rabbi, you are indeed wise. Now that the goat and the chickens are out of our house, we all feel more relaxed and comfortable. Finally, we are a family at peace.”

S. M. Neches, Humorous Tales of Latter-Day Rabbis (New York: George Obsevage, 1938), 42-43.

The Lost Horse

A man named Sei Weng owned a beautiful mare ChineseHorsewhich was praised far and wide. One day this beautiful horse disappeared. The people of his village offered sympathy to Sei Weng for his great misfortune. Sei Weng said simply, “That’s the way it is.”

A few days later the lost mare returned, followed by a beautiful wild stallion. The village congratulated Sei Weng for his good fortune. He said, “That’s the way it is.”

Some time later, Sei Weng’s only son, while riding the stallion, fell off and broke his leg. The village people once again expressed their sympathy at Sei Weng’s misfortune. Sei Weng again said, “That’s the way it is.”

Soon thereafter, war broke out and all the young men of the village except Sei Weng’s lame son were drafted and were killed in battle. The village people were amazed as Sei Weng’s good luck. His son was the only young man left alive in the village. But Sei Weng kept his same attitude: despite all the turmoil, gains and losses, he gave the same reply, “That’s the way it is.”

Three Questions

IT once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid, and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.tolstoy

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.

And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions differently.

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.

But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.

All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.

The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted and he received none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit’s cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his bodyguard behind, went on alone.

When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.

The King went up to him and said: ‘I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important and need my first attention?’ The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.

‘You are tired,’ said the King, ‘let me take the spade and work awhile for you.’

‘Thanks!’ said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat down on the ground.

When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said:

‘Now rest awhile — and let me work a bit.’

But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:

‘I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home.’

‘Here comes some one running,’ said the hermit, ‘let us see who it is.’

The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man’s clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. threequestionsThe King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and rebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit’s help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep — so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.

‘Forgive me!’ said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the King was awake and was looking at him.

‘I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for,’ said the King.

‘You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!’

The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property.

Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.

The King approached him, and said:

‘For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man.’

‘You have already been answered!’ said the hermit still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.

‘How answered? What do you mean?’ asked the King.

‘Do you not see,’ replied the hermit. ‘If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug these beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards, when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important — Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life!’

a short story by Leo Tolstoy From “Twenty-three Tales “published around 1872.

Right, maybe

This is just brain stew, trying to thrash out who I am, don’t take it too seriously, my mind changes and evolves often, yours should too…John-Lennon-quote

I still think that I am right about things a lot of the time, even though there are points of view expressed by others that seem to contradict or question my belief. However, these days there are more occasions that I listen to the little voice of doubt in my head which tells me that I ought to lighten up and consider perhaps that I am not always right and that other people may have a point.

I think what it boils down to is whether you have to work with other people in the furtherance of something or not. If it is your own project then it is probably okay to believe that you are right and do things the way you think they should be done, only changing your plans if the method or idea is proved to be wrong or just not working.

If you are working with another person or a group then it becomes necessary to achieve a consensus on most things which requires, for the best plan of action to be used, a group where everyone has a clear understanding of the factors involved, the technical know-how and confidence in themselves to be able to voice their views. Alternatively the group could select a member who is best suited to the task and leave them with the responsibility of that task. This works well if the group is clear about its policy and objectives and the members feel a sense of responsibility to the project and its successful completion.

It is very difficult to sit quietly when someone demands to do something a certain way when in your heart you feel that they are wrong, and particularly if you think you know a better way to do it. Does one speak up or diplomatically shut up and allow things to progress to see whether or not the idea is flawed? This is where my problem arises. In some cases I tend to think I know better and become blinkered to any other ideas whose successful out come I cannot visualise. It could be that the other idea is valid, and it may well produce fruit, but at that moment I believe that my idea is more practical, sensible or efficient. Is this a blessing or a curse?quotes-1513

However, if I don’t have an idea, or if I can see the value in a fellow’s plan, I am usually willing to work in harmony to achieve the common aim. I can then feel like I am sharing a common experience and thoroughly enjoy both the work and the achievement of the project’s completion. If I have had to accept a democratically arrived at solution which I do not feel has the best chance of success I will still work harmoniously although I will feel the need to interject ideas along the line. Whether I act on those feelings will depend on the progress towards the goal and my tolerance of the consensus. It does sometimes happen that I do change my mind about the value of other people’s ideas, either for or against, if I see that they are working or not.

So the whole thing seems to be about the ability to conceive of a solution to a problem and whether that conception is valid, righteous and practical. I suppose the only way to improve the likelihood of that happening is to study and learn as much about as many things as possible to gain a greater understanding of systems. Of course, it may be a good idea in any circumstances to stop the hunt for the solution if one finds that there is a gap in that knowledge and seek information to clarify the area of uncertainty. The internet is a valuable tool for this in may respects. There seems to be an unending supply of information and opinion, experience and statistics to enable a person to fully understand a problem and make an informed judgement on the best way forward.

I went to a type of medium once with a friend of mine. It was a psychometry reading where one places objects into a tray and the medium handles them and, from the auras endowed upon the objects by the owner’s contact with them, can get a feeling or message for the owner. This was all done anonymously by placing the items oneself into numbered squares of one’s own choice. The medium would announce the number before handling the item so that the owner would know that the reading was for them.

The point of my story here is to throw light on my original statement. The medium picked up my object, a key hanging from a chain which I wore constantly around my neck.
“Oh”, she said, “You are right, you’re right, you’re right, you’re always right! Don’t let anyone tell you that you are wrong! You are right, and you know it, and it is true, you are.”

I know some, or most, people will find this all a bit ‘hocus pocus’ and probably think that the whole practice is charlatanism, but the next thing she said also made sense; not immediately, but later in my life, for it was a prediction for the future. She said that she could see me in a large house with a barn. She could see a woman surrounded by children with long black hair, dressed in long skirts, standing at the gate. That was my harvest, and it was bountiful. Those that know me will be aware of my situation and that indeed I do live in a big house with a barn and that all the other parts of the vision are true as well. Think what you will – this one came true!

So again, I had advice from someone in my life about who I am, and who I should be. Just like my physics teacher this lady had struck a chord with what I thought of myself, and had given me license to go on being me. Some people will think this is hardly the stuff to base your life on, but I would answer with a question – if not this, what is good enough? It is never easy trying to balance who we are with who we think we should be, and I would say that we shouldn’t try to lest we put out the flame of spontaneity. Just be yourself without trying, just let it out, you can always mop up the mess later if it goes wrong. However, I believe ‘wrong’ is a subjective judgement call usually made by people who are not on your wavelength. The concepts of right and wrong, however, will have to be the subject of another treatise.

© Richard Holt 2014

What Is Going Wrong?

I can’t help feeling that this place, country, world is going mad, bad, sad and all that that suggests. I look at the news and see misery on all levels, greed on many levels and mistrust and paranoia all over the place. Whatever happened to the dream? I am sure that when I was a child there was going to be a bright future and prosperity for all, a general improvement in conditions, of life, of technology and a brave new world.

But that was before I had read Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World”, or George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” or “1984″, and I had no thoughts of alternative agendas and the possibility that we were all living an illusion fed to us and nourished by an other race of beings who had plans that we were not part of, other than being the cattle and sheep to be used in the manufacture of their paradise. By other race I do not mean “aliens” in the sense of extra-terrestrial entities – although I have come to the point where I have actually considered that as a possibility – but I mean a class of people who languish above the relatively lesser classes and poverty levels, controlling the distribution of wealth, controlling the availability of information and controlling the food and materials supplies.

How has this become the state that we find ourselves in today? When did the takeover take place? Is it possible to make a change back to a society that works for the good of all rather than the few? What would we have to do to make that change? Is it enough to make individual efforts to reduce waste and energy usage? Is it enough to follow generally accepted norms of behaviour in an attempt to bring about the change or do we need to have some kind of revolution? It would seem that the governments of all nations are gearing up to defend themselves against their own citizens by arming their police forces, changing laws to allow for easier control, encouraging a sense of self-policing and intolerance amongst society, spreading propaganda to get their message accepted and normalised, and bombarding the populace with placebo entertainment with the apparent aim of diverting attention away from the change to and erosion of everyone’s civil liberties.

I begin to despair of this but I realise that that may be what I am supposed to do. It could be that all these things are designed to induce a state of depression and thereby induce subservience in people, if not, ultimately, suicide. So, if that is the case and me being the type of person who is considered a bit rebellious, I am damned if that is going to happen to me! I will try to remain afloat in this sea of despair and find a way to create something out of what I have in order to retain my sanity and afford myself some comfort and security. I will continue to do what I believe is right and try to be community minded in the face of the adversity that surrounds us. I will strive to be the change I wish to see – to somewhat misquote Ghandi – and in my own way be the Utopian I would have the world and its people become.

Maybe by the time I have been writing these things for a while I will be able to get my thoughts into some sort of order and hopefully answer some of the questions I posed above. I will try to stick to this and chronicle some of my steps along the way. I may write a bit about what I am and what I am capable of in order to better understand myself and get a better idea of what I am as a whole when looked at from the outside. Lately it seems as if I am being misunderstood by people who are taking offence at what I do or say, are becoming scared of me because of my size or the expression on my face. It is so hard to ‘look’ nice – I am smiling on the inside honestly even if it looks like a scowl. All I want to do is to be able to discuss the situation with people rather than just accepting it, but that seems to be something that one is forbidden to do – one must just accept what one is told and say nothing apparently? I am not that kind of person unfortunately for those who would control me. I had a physics teacher once who encouraged us to question everything, and I am afraid I took that to heart as I was already that type of person and his advice gave me license to be me.

© Richard Holt 2014

Love’s Altar

My tongue pays homage
At the rosebud gateway
To your inner temple
And lights the fire
Behind your soul’s window
The mountains roll
And glisten with dew
As the fever’s grip takes control
Waves passionate and strong
Crash and pull and wash you up
And leave you cast ashore
Breathless on the beach
Of a distant paradise

My urgency pushes open
And inside where awaits
The warm goddess of submission
Pulling at my senses
Pushing back at her we dance
The dance of creation
And in the shimmering whirlpool frenzy
That knows only one climax
We move in ever-increasing tempo
To the beat of love’s drummer
Until there is no turning back
Until we rise like flaming birds
And with every nerve electric
Explode rainbow diamond ecstasy

And for that moment become one
Lying together spent
At the foot of the altar of love
Untouched and untouchable
We float and there is nothing else
No sound, no need, no time
Heaven is a place like this
And I can go there any time with you

© Richard Holt 2012