outsourced

coffee paris

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

©2016 threegoodwords

once more

landscape_pezibear_CC0licence

the sun once in bloom
now alive, hidden
in a land of green and black and gold

O, what grace is given
to know
all that we have known
and seen amongst us all
paved along the waves
once crossed, bound in stone

built in those days
when we still knew forever
a time of tears and laughter
flesh and bone
not lost
but no longer known

and so it goes
or so they say
the bells chime
the wind blows
and time is born once more.

© 2015 threegoodwords

reflection

 

fall 13

fall and thoughts sail down
like leaves off a tree of self
doubt and certainty

asking, wondering
so many etcetera, too many to count
silently loud
in the quietness of hidden hearts;

questions that linger
ever since ‘I’ became ‘Me’
and ‘You’ was separate
apart, a part of everyone
else
someone, somebody
a body beyond the self
‘I’, ‘Me’
sad hours seem long

that room where they come and go
why Michelangelo?

*

consciousness, they say
is when a mirror loses its wonder
and becomes reflection.

this is what we have
a sense of confinement that is open
static yet moving
a constant attempt to decipher
the senses trick or treating
us to another’s perception;

always desirous to
touch beyond skin
and hear the voice
that reaches our inner ear

as deep as heartbeats go
beyond skin and bone
to that marrow that others call soul.

 

© 2015 threegoodwords

sight to site

image

twine of the velvet
fixed in virtual light
sup from the nectar given
flutter from sight to site

two of the four given
stone of a legend, living
in hope of ancient
times yet to come

twice in a morn
the sun, risen
high beyond the cusp
of a world unwitnessed
unbroken: written.

© 2015 threegoodwords

there is light

waves 4

the sword of a soothing look
cuts loose the meteor of affection

*

joy withers
in a moment of crisp
bright, brittle
understanding
frissoned with threads of doubt

of sight and senses
but the heart knows
what is meant
and will not concede to
willful self
deceit

*

three heartbeats worth of relief
hope restored
there is light
no comet flashing
stark against the void

but an ancient fire
kindled by the first of flames
alive, living
knowing, known.

© 2015 threegoodwords

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