AuthorDavid

Same sex attracted (SSA) man, who has the privilege of being a father and a grandfather. A man whose early upbringing in fundamentalistic Christianity has evolved into a strong connection with the spiritual, esoteric and philosophical branches of understanding. Finally, a person who craves the quiet stillness and deep silence of the eternal present

I miss them

I

I miss them, My demons. Glint eyes Sulphuric softened Voices, smooth As aged whisky, And as golden To the skin. The dare issued In the stare, two Seconds too long Cascading adrenalin, Clearing clogged Arteries. He said, I should resist Invoking future glories Of Christian masculinity. But I could never See the point Future possibilities A poor reward For the potential Of present pleasures He said...

The untold story

T

Is the silence behind the smile, The slight of distraction to Keep momentum outwards Never inwards. Grey mists of grief Roiling behind layers of Skin, steeled and shuttered Bulwarked against scalded tears. I have learnt the weight Of this darkness, a darkness No pinprick star of love Can penetrate. This darkness It is best, not to break the stillness with dreams of hope. Yet a slender string Of...

Dam your prayers

D

I was fed a lie Suckled on illusions Of sanctity suffocating My stifled humanity The all-seeing eye Of a God, choked thoughts That gagged on the nipple Of holiness but not wholeness I wonder what He thought, as He Watched, fear Smother my humanity Love perverted By parameters of ideologies The certainties of dogma’s Making it easier For His drones Castrated by their fear To warm themselves at The...

It always starts with ‘Hi’

I

It always starts with hi Innocuously friendly, Social niceties minimalised Then discarded as tersely And succinctly possible. What you are doing, and Whether you are “good” I couldn’t care Less Will you be My illusion? I don’t need you For long. Twenty minutes Should do, to reach that Sigh, when my Body relaxes. After all A warm body Is better than a Flat screen But I need to know, No offence...

Give me Back

G

I believed him When he said Perfection was possible And sanctity The path. The magnificence Of perfection Celestial music To a runt, precarious In his place But he, omitted And not from ignorance To tell, The toll, mandated By perfection I set off Resolute But, naïve Of the price She would extract She stripped me Of my demons, Castrating them or Perhaps, it was me, A gelding for perfection Now I...

This Path

T

I walk This path Empty But for dust balls Of shame I have prayed For redemption But from what? I am Still unsure The rosary Of my prayers Countless And still Unanswered Silence Shadows me As I walk This empty Dust filled path. Pray, they say God answers. Wishful thinking Made powerful By repetition. Yet in the Silence that surrounds me No answer Is given And I walk This path, my Path of shame...

Two Tracks

T

They went From here to there Though where there Was, I didn’t know Two tracks Imprinted on Heavy-dewed Grass Footprints Side by side Not close enough To be lovers Though, perhaps Lovers, tired Of closeness Needing space I, on my way Saw their footsteps Brief witness to them Passing this way. For soon Sun dried grass Will ghost their footsteps And none will know There were two tracks Footsteps...

In Praise of silence

I

In a world often dominated by noise, silence has the power to make us anxious.  The space of silence makes us uncomfortable and we want to fill the space with something, anything to distract us. I experienced this the other morning.  I was meeting a friend for breakfast and caught rideshare DiDi to where we were meeting.  Within 30 seconds of getting into the car I realised...

The spaces of silence

T

Rain drops Drum with Rhythmic certainty. Disconnected patterns Of accidental Design, thrum In my mind. I lie Suspended between Two states, waiting While thoughts Subside into neural Swamps of Slumber It is, in The in-between, In between thoughts In between falling drops There is A second of Stillness Not the stillness Of nothingness Rather, the Stillness of Silence. Eternity’s Inbreathing The...

Living with Bent Paths

L

One of the things with walking a labyrinth, is its disorientating nature.  You can never see into the distance.  Your sight is constrained by the next bend in the path.  When you do get to the bend and look right and left both views seem to the same, leading to the quandary do I turn right or left? Robert Frost captures this perplexity in his poem, The Road Not Taken Two roads...

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