The The Impotence Of Proofreading

I sent it to my staff and told them I never want to hear about errors in emails again.  And to Bushlette.  And to my mother.  And to my anal retentive English teacher.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OonDPGwAyfQ&playnext=1&list=PL7A6309E73B10D0AD&feature=results_main]

City Dreams

Saturday morning sunshine woke me.  But I wish I’d blocked out the light.  I DID NOT WANT to wake up.

In my dream just before I woke up and rolled over on the softest bed ever, somewhere in New York City.  There was a duvet and loads of pillows covered in white cotton sheets.  The light was filtering in through a balcony door somewhere – I couldn’t see it from my nest but I knew it was there.  This was my room.  And I was not alone.  Through one half-opened eye I could see to my right, asleep on his stomach, was my life partner.  A well-built man with back muscles relaxed under tightly stretched nut-brown skin, he promised to be at least two inches over six feet tall standing.  I got the sense of comfort, security, belonging and strength from the moment.  And then there was a knock on the door.

In came our housekeeper to give him something important to sign.  “Come in” he grumbled from his position, head in pillow.  “We’re not doin’ anything.”  That one made me smile inside but I was too sleepy to laugh.  But I did draw the blankets up around my chin, snuggling deeper down.  She came in, gave him a pen and a piece of paper, he signed and she left as quietly as she’d come.  When she was on her way back to the door he turned to me and drew me into his space and we both went back to sleep.

And I woke up.

That day I decided it was ok to dream of love.  There is no shame in it and nothing dirty about it.

The dream followed me for days until I met its equal.

I woke up this morning to Lola licking my hand hanging off the side of the bed.  She spent some time on my fingers and started pulling at my whole hand with her two front paws.  My dog loves her hind legs so much I think she thinks she’s human.  She follows my every move when I put on my makeup and brush my teeth so that I’m sure if she tried she could do it herself.  Next she’ll want me to teach her to drive!  And so she took my hand in her two hands and tried to coax me off the bed.

But I didn’t want to wake up.

I had just walked into my Aunty’s house in London to tell her that I had found the perfect house!  Before that moment of waking, I had trecked all of the South East’s suburbs looking for a home for me and my two dogs.  It needed to be reasonably near to the train station, reasonably near to a park or a nice walking route, and reasonably near to my Aunty.  I had found the perfect flat for the three of us to live in and was going to take my photos to Aunty for her opinion.  And then Lola woke me up.  To reality again.

I am dreaming at night of a new life, travelling to new cities in my sleep.  There is a growing itch spreading past my toes and my ankles, telling me it’s time to get on a flight.  And so this morning I booked my flight to New York.

to dream of love…

It’s ok to dream of love –

to need is not to fail,

to want is not a weakness.

So why do I think ill

of it?  Ill of me?

Why is it that longing

feels ungrateful?

Does needing make me

incomplete?

Why does seeking seem

so faulty

naughty, even greedy?

Does wanting it all

make me needy?

But its ok to dream of love…

 

Isn’t it?

 

Does dreaming of love

put one in conflict

with loving ones own self?

Conflict

with ones own mental health?

In seeking there is

every chance

of never finding

sweet romance,

yet is that enough

to never seek it?

Or an excuse

never to be weak

and open to the hurt

of being human?

What matters more-

the pedestal

of lonely and unbreakable

uninvaded shore?

Or the chance

of being wounded

in the search,

sullied in the conquest,

with the unknown possibilities

of victory,

the prize of

the unshakable… Love?

 

It’s ok to dream of love…

 

to lose is to participate

rather than like a

damsel wait

and wilt, and wither thin.

The capstone on the vault

she entered without fault

buried for eternity therein

“for fear of doing any sin

she failed to do at all.”

 

Let it not be said of me!  I will dream of love.

 

Land Drown

I rise from my sickbed today

to tell a sorry tale

of how the asthma children feel

when lungs threaten to fail.

The world begins to narrow

and the air begins to thin,

dry land turns into something like

a deep surfaceless swim.

Lips turn blue as the chest heaves

and slaves for every breath

hands curl and dive in pockets and bags

for drugs to stave off death.

PUFF squeezes in the mouth

a time or two (or four)

and if ten minutes pass like this

there will be need of more.

As the wheezing settles, water

and then a bio break

but all the while a-squat and shakin

like a Turkish earthquake!

The drugs will rattle teeth

and shake even your hair

but you thank God for another day

as the fog begins to clear.

When next you see a sufferer

give a thought to their distress

bruised, battle-weary but on fighting

for their next and future breaths!

Revolution

It began with the neck

twisting slightly to the left

following a sound

of a heart’s bugle call.

It wasn’t smart, this turn

but blindly seeking

a missed beat, a correction,

heartflow shouting,

purpose scouting.

And what began continued,

ears open wide

to the tide

of other things

the heart should know.

Once begun

it followed through,

straining for more

of the sound

the head turned round

just a little more,

eyes tear away from the goal

of what was once ahead

and now instead

the straight ahead shifts

leftward, inward, more and again.

Thoughts spin,

pivoting focus

out of the familiar

comfort zone

to walk alone…

Away from all teachings

guidance, and direction

stepping out in faith

without protection.

Knowing that the darkness brings

either a ledge to stand on

or lessons on how to fly,

always God-led

and grace fed.

A new vista

leftward leaning

turning more

till inward facing

bracing

into whence it came;

introspection,

home again.

Stirring deep

inside the Be

learning from the God

indwelling the soul

where He made Me whole.

Turning back to the dawn

of the self

lies wealth –

not of what was

left behind

but what I find

buried deep

in the honest purity

of naked being.

At one with

maker and creation lies

the truth

of Revolution.

Blue Moon

Know My Worth

Every once in while
almost as if in a blue moon

I catch a glimpse
of me

a sideways look
an unintentional reflection
a view through another’s eyes
a magical moment in my own brain

and in this glimpse
I see myself
as God sees me

Covered in His glory
Shining His light
through my skin
Reflecting radiance
Pure light
and splendid color

I am whole
I am pure
I am loved and loveable
I am beautiful
I am innocent
I am His
and I am amazed

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