Harry Is A Poet

This poem is lovingly dedicated to my Grandma
She has been around 90 years on this World so far
Brought happiness and joy to many a different face
She takes life and it's challenges with a loving embrace
Because in 1926, the same year as Winnie the Pooh
My Grandma was born all fresh and new
Young and full of promise, so fittingly
They named her simply Rosemary
And like rosemary, she works best with others
As a mentor, as a neighbour, as a partner and lover
She never sees a person as better or worse
Just a future friend with which to converse
I feel lucky, even though I arrived so late
I've spent 23 years with her on Earth to date
That after so much time since that birth year
Both she and I share this world right here
If I start to worry about what the future might bring
I remember, in 1926, we still had an empire and a king
We've been through much turmoil change, it needs not be named
Just that through it all my dear Grandma remained
Whatever challenges life decides to throw my way
Blood flowing in her veins flows in mine today
So I have the power and the passion to persevere
Thanks to those strengths passed on from my Grandma right here
I just want her to know, how grateful I always will be
For the patience growing up she never failed to show me
For the love, and the light, let me just say
Grandma, have a very happy birthday. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/90-years.html

Who am I? Who are you?
What are we? What shall we do?
We've woken up a thousand times, emerged from slumber
Sometimes we wake up smarter, sometimes dumber
But normally, well, how to put this politely?
Day by day we change ever so slightly
We are constantly changing, such is our nature
Sometime change is small, sometimes an adventure
But why? Why do we change, and why does it matter?
It's important because without it, life would be flatter
There would be fewer bumps, and far less noise
Eternally living as girls and boys
But there's another thing to find far more interesting
Which gives a conscience far more testing
Some people in life have pride and certainty
In their current state and personality
But honestly? We'll be different tomorrow
Different things will cause laughter and sorrow
In areas of life we'd never even considered
New experiences packed up and delivered
We'd tackle new problems in very different ways
If we were older or younger by just a few days
So what I'm wondering, with confusion but no rage
What does it mean to 'be yourself', in this day and age? ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/identity.html

"I was a lot more comfortable being vulnerable and open
When I was younger, and it wasn't clear if I was or wasn't joking..." - Sage Francis
It can be a struggle. To be open and honest.
So despite the evidence, I'll say that I'm for this.
When I say despite the evidence, I mean that sincerely,
Because I know for a fact that sincerity fears me.
I, like many others of my generation and age
Will stick to some conventions like tears to a rage
Although we're trying to shake them off, they just wont leave
Symptomatic of the very sickness from which we seek reprieve
Although we all have our little self-depreciation lines
Then shake them off jokingly, say that it's fine
Before we can notice, while enjoying the effect
It's turned into the knock-me-down stand-up set
But it's never serious, oh don't be silly
It's just a joke, and man these jokes kill me
Little by little, eating away at our pride
Until the jokes are as hollow as we feel inside
For me, these little jokes that I used to invent
Were the only times I'd ever get a compliment
So I'd repeat my own humiliation, as it carved the way
For the fact I still feel awkward getting complimented today
Please, if you are struggling, make me aware.
And tell me sincerely, so that I can show care
Be happy when you're happy, don't force a fake smile
Leaving people wondering what you're feeling all the while
No matter who you are, what gender, what age
Please pay attention to those words from a Sage ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/sage-advice.html

Immortality in a Can
Immortality in a Can
Grab it while you can
Immortality in a Can
You know what they say:
Once you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
Man, I just took this deal, and I feel great
Just popped now fate awaits my infinity sell by date
To satiate my thirst
I never have to deal with the worst
I get live forever as the eternal man
And I owe it all to Immortality in a Can
Once you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
Ten years on and I'm still feeling strongSince then I've taken life head onI'm still feeling great, my body is spryI have a love of life my friends can't denyI could do this forever, or that's the planAnd I owe it all to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Twenty years past and I'm still goingEven though my friends' age is showingI've no wrinkles, either in skin or lifeI've settled down with a trophy wifeShe's got a bump, on the way a little manAnd I owe it all to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Fifty years on, and I admit it's been strangeI've experienced a lot of life's odd rangeThere's been ups and downs, now my kid is grownMy wife's gone on too, so I'm left aloneI'm still fine though, and I'm still a fanAnd all I owe to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...One hundred years on, I just buried my sonI've attended a thousand funerals if I've attended oneI'm stuck on this world, the Earth has movedI'm a relic now, I'm out of my grooveI'm viewed as an ignorant, out-of-touch manAll thanks, once again, to Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...One thousand years on, yes I'm still hereI've tried to find purpose, I've tried to disappearIt's tough now though, to go off the gridI'm known worldwide for what I once didA morality lesson you learn as soon as you canFor that indulgence of Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...Ten thousand years on and the world is goneIt's barren, we did well to last so longMillion year gone and it's still the sameMany million years gone and it's still the sameI lost count long ago, just as I lost any planYet still I go on, Immortality in a CanOnce you pop you
Just
Can't
Stop...
I'm not saying I didn't experience things of worth
I experienced much death, but also birth
But those golden moments, they weren't worth the trade
Nothing good happened to those death betrayed
And I know death is scary, but to be the eternal man?
Forever is a long long time. So would you take Immortality in a Can? ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/06/immortality-in-can.html

Pay attention. Listen up.
I'm going to try to explain something difficult.
Democracy.
No, wait! Don't go. I swear, I'll try to make it quick.
See, Democracy, to me, is still radical.
And I don't mean radical like skateboards,
    I don't mean radical like Guitar Hero.
I mean radical like revolutions are radical.
Because the idea that every single person has a valid opinion
And the following conclusion, that we have to listen to those opinions
That the collective will of every Jack, Tom and Harry, of every Jill, Beth, and Hannah
That all of us deserve a say in how our country is run.
That, to me, is radical.
Do you ever stop to think how unpopular that idea was to the ruling classes?
Nowadays, we have made democracy dull.
We have sanitised it beyond belief, made it boring.
It is carried out with pencils and paper in churches and schools.
Usually on a Thursday.
Please, don't be fooled.
Instead, please join me.
Because, I subscribe to this radical notion of democracy.
The idea that everyone's opinions matter is one I hold dear,
And yes, that includes you. That certainly and always includes you.
Just as you wouldn't let someone else take away your voice,
Please don't let apathy, or perceived insignificance steal it either.
For you are significant. For your voice matters.
But only if you let it.
What your voice says? That's up to you.

Sometime when the world deals a blow and has dazed us
It's good to think back to the parents who raised us
Your mothers gave birth, as mothers have to do
She went through great pain just to give birth to you
Then growing up, they dealt with all your palaver
Not just sibling fights, or having the floor be lava
Those times when you were small, so tender and weak
When you were born you were so fragile and meek
Though they must have been scared, they still stayed and tried
Every parent has that scare when they think their child has died
Just a little too cold when the child wakes up in the morning
Or when everything suddenly goes quiet with no warning
They've cared for you as they cared for their spouse
Once they left you on your own for the first time in the house
And, still remembering the first time you went to A&E
Still allowed you to become little by little more free
So just remember, given what your parents went through
That the only reason they did any of that, was for you
From before you were breathing, right up to now
So if your a parent, take a well deserved bow ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/parents.html

If you're having a bad day, this a message for you
Written on a letter, sealed with love and glue
For you to open, whenever it's a struggle to get through
This bad day is one we're both gonna beat black and blue
...
...
Dear friend in the wilderness. Dear voice in the mist
Sometimes it seems like our fate has been kissed
Days when we're not tired and sick, days when all will go well
This is dedicated to those days when you go through hell
Here's a fact. You've been through plenty of struggles in your life thus far
These struggles don't make us stronger or weaker. They make us who we are
I can say for sure, when this day is finally through
You're going to emerge as a different you
Let me say something else, no matter what challenge you face
We all have reasons to be setback in the human race
The reason can be clear, something we can see touch and feel
Other times it's not. Rest assured that this battle's still real
When all is done and the dust can finally settle
Please appreciate the toughness and strength of your mettle
It's the challenges of life that make it great
It's often struggles that make us remember the date
You're someone who has woken up, and somehow always found a way
To have a 100% hit-rate of surviving each day
Then just consider this related fact to be so true
That no bad day of yet has ever survived you ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/a-bad-day.html

She had that beauty which came from getting up an hour earlier than the sun
And staring endlessly into the mirror willing herself through the next day
Even with a sense of anxious pride about who she was and what she'd done
There was only one small part of her that had never wished this life away
No, it was not those startling clear blue eyes, clouded windows to a troubled soul
Nor was it those carefully shaved legs which had walked through a thousand dreams
It was the voice inside that let her know this was her life, this was her goal
She'd deserved the adoration, and every one of her fans' desperate screams
Finally, the world was proclaiming her The Star she'd always wished in her heart
She'd been raised up high for the world to see and adore entirely
She'd never have to worry about loneliness, or the price of her shopping cart
She could shape this reality to however she wished it to be
Taking a deep breath, she made the voice inside slowly silence, then subside
Knowing that overconfidence was a strong bug by which to be bitten
She'd taken a step, when the first embers of her fame had been realised
She got out the well-worn, tear-stained letter she'd written
"Dear Star, for that's who I know you'll be and what you are
Please remember, when life is going far too much your way
That's not just who you are. You're more than a superstar
No matter how fantastic, no matter how glamourous the day
You are me, the girl sat here full of dreams and wishes
You were the daughter of parents who gave you their all
Though you may one day be served as one of high society's great dishes
Please remember that both gravity and pride can make stars fall
It is not wrong to be liked. It is not wrong for effort to meet reward
Just remember that whatever else, you are still you. Signed lovingly, you!"
She'd taken these words with as much care as she could afford
After all, she was The Star, and it was all she could ever do.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-famous-girl.html

Sometimes I like to say
Let's go wild and adventure
So lets go to our baser nature
And be animalistic in how we play
YetI don't wanna be a jellyfish
     'cause without needing to wish
        you can already see right through me
I don't wanna be a zebra neither
     'cause I don't need ya
          to spend that much time crossing me
I don't wanna be a lion
     I'm not lyin'
          I don't wanna have that much pride
I don't wanna be an armadillo
     Couldn't be your pillow
         I just wanna be right there by your side
I don't wanna be a bat
     Or a rat or a cat
         Or anything else in fact than what you see
I don't wanna be a tortoise
     Or a porpoise
           Or anything other than you and me
I don't wanna defend
    The fact I wanna to spend
          Every second at your beck and call
In the end,
    Let's not pretend
         We're anything but animals after all ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/05/were-animals.html

It's funny, I still see the same things
I still know red is not blue
The morning bluebirds still sing
And yet, somehow, it's twisted
While still being old, not new
As if my brain itself has misted
I can still chat and converse
With a throat that's dry
As I pretend the reverse
Its a flaw so clear, yet so weird
That the world through my eyes
Could be so easily smeared ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/fever.html

I'm sorry, can you please repeat for me
I swear that I was paying attention
The fact is I was temporarily
Thinking up a brand new life invention
It would be small, light and easy to hold
Be cheap enough every person could buy
Work in high temperatures and in the cold
Keep working until the day that you die
So it's robust and tough and versatile
Now I hear you ask "what does it do?"
I was on the verge of that insight while
I was distracted by listening to you
So, again, could you repeat what you said?
And I'll do my best to ignore my head. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/distracted.html

Look at me now, I've got all of my limbs
I've got a thin physique, cause I'm kinda slim
I've glasses to correct my slighted eyesight
Where I live is neither too dark or too bright
I've a house to shelter in in bad weather
My parents are in love and still together
They cared for me when I was feelin' poorly
Saved money for the life that I 'ad before me
I've had a fondness for runnin' an' exercise
I'm surrounded by folk who're kind an' wise
I've never been tempted in starting to drink
I've always been allowed to create and think
I've no real addiction, no real vice
When I've struggled I've got great advice
While all the above're part of me
None of 'em define my personality
I've been gifted, in such a big fashion
That I've been allowed to pursue ideas an' passion
I must remain humble, deal with issues patiently
Cause I've been given such privilege in life to be me ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/look-at-me-now.html

You can say things that sound awful smart. I know you can, because you are smart.

But all of us get scared and fearful if someone looks at us too closely.

The issue is, everything we write can sounds dumb

If it's analysed, repeated, turned over and stared at long enough

You'll pour your heart into something

You''ll create meaning you find profound

Yet still, after a long enough time

You'll see your heart crumble from certainty

Honestly, it's no wonder people are scared

Scared of sharing anything they write

We often are when our hearts are on the line

Because, nine times out of ten, we have slaved

We have worked hard, struggled so

Analysed re-analysed our work

Until, eventually, at around the time you've poured more of your life into a piece than you're publicly willing to admit

That's when your work can seem to cease to mean anything at all

Nearly all art is illusion

Creativity comes from a source

As the artist, you alone know the trail

The map will seem so obvious to you

For those wanting to start and share writing

I give you this simple advice:

We all feel like frauds. Some more than others

But we all remember the first time we shared

It's always the hardest. And the scariest.

Even after practice, even after years, poetry still sounds dumb if you look too long.

But art is not for the long time, it is meant for moments.

And the best way to recapture any moment gone

Is to share it.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/04/creating-poetry.html

It is not an unheard sadness, for friends to die.
To selfishly leave us stranded down this gravity well
While themselves going on to pursue the next great adventure(tm).
It is uncertain to what extent the departed are aware of the world
What consciousness they retain in their corporal remains
With this certain knowledge of death's uncertainty, here is a claim I can venture:
Funerals aren't held for the dead.
After all,
No corpse has ever said thank you
No cadaver has ever given a final bow
No earthly remains have ever commented wistfully on the excellent selection of words in the final dedication to their lives.
No...
Funerals?
They're for the living.
A chance for those left behind to gather up feelings
Get thought emotion empathy all mashed together
Share with others a show of simple humanity
And honour the one who has left them.
To dress up and look the part of the mourner
To drown in seas of black and tears
To attempt to cement memories of ashes and dust
As though, by wearing the right clothes
By saying the right things
By singing the right songs
And by sharing together in this experience
All can collectively agree the soul is now fully lain to rest.
For the individual:
This is done by acting up your very best
To show, more than anything, that you care
That you would never do anything to disrespect memory
And so we speak in sadness while we dress lovingly in pure darkness
.
.
.
When I die, don't you dare wear black
Don't.
You.
Dare.
While I understand the funeral is for you, and not me,
I must still *insist* on this one thing.
You may play songs I have never listened to
Read from books I have never read
Even bring friends I have never met
For all these I would be open to in life.
But
To dress in a way I actively avoid
To reduce the colour in this world
To indulge in those very clothes
For which sadness smartness and repression are habitual.
No. You don't get that this time.
You don't get the easy way to show you care.
It would not show my memory respect
And I don't think it would feel genuine for anyone there.
When I die, please, please wear rainbows
Drape yourselves in shades and styles of colours and light
For I assure you, it is at this time, more than others
You will feel me trying my best to be there.
I will go, knowing that, just once with certainty
I will have brought a little colour to peoples' lives.
So don't you dare wear black. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/dont-you-dare.html

Holla, Holla, holla at my vegan boy
This is not a song to berate irritate or annoy
And holla, holla, holla at my vegan girl
At the tenacity in giving this philosophy a whirl
Alright, let's remove any preconceptions for a bit
Life does not come with a morality kit
We all decide now how to make our way
Where to make our home, how to make our pay
One daily decision which we make and repeat
Is to choose the food that we cook and eat
Just heed this warning when choosing your diet and food
Of any strongly aligned societal attitudes
So even though I'm afraid I could never really try it
Let me say I will not go at you for your vegan diet
Be it environmental - less carbon in the atmosphere
Be it ethical and mental - wanting no animalian harm or fear
Be it health or wealth - be it pure fussiness
This leads me to a most important point to address
While there is a joke about vegans being loud and obnoxious
I've never encountered one of these folks while conscious
So holla to those who live in a different fashion
Who persue what they do with tenacity and passion
But no holla or shout out to those who bully on repeat
There's really nothing special about eating meat ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/vegan-holla.html

The preacher he screaches at the tops of his tobacco stained lung

"Beware the end of days, whether you are old or young

I'm not sure if you have heard my words before

But we are all dying and the Earth's at war!

Beware the plagues, beware the frogs and especially the locusts

Be aware of this sage, take logs and don't lose your focus

We walk on a knife's edge, about to fall into a chasm

I Talk truth of life and you people bawl twitch and spasm

Can you not see the signs, have you never listened to the news?

This planet is dyin', glisten the truth of our abuse

There's new pestilence, diseases, we're either obese or starving

Oh, the ignorance of the young, is this not somewhat startling?"

Stoic, I stared. I did not intend to be cruel.

Wishing not to mock drive, I had to question fuel.

"Dear sir, much older and more experienced than I

I know not the manner by which we shall die

The wisdom of the ancients are not mine to claim

Yet please take heed of what I say all the same

We are living in our most peaceful era of existence

We've far less war, we've almost slain pestilence

Humanity is global now. We are all kin folk.

We can chat over miles, hell we can cry and joke.

If this is truly to be the way we, as humanity, go

There is no more reasonable end that I know."

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/end-of-days.html

An ode, my friends, to those ignorant men,
My brethren in a most global misdeed.
Who show our most prominent flaw when,
We fail to notice love someone seeds.
We unwittingly reject advances,
Unknowingly we stay in solitude.
It's not that we fail to take chances,
It's not that we try to act like a prude.
We are just clueless, and utterly so,
Don't believe love is for the likes of us.
We get regret - when realised - we know
We had a chance at something more than lust.
Please see that our silence means nothing less,
Than us men simply are just that clueless. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/ignorance.html

It stood nobly
Only bowing to the wind
And so, it was respected
Animals were granted access
Gracious for the privilege
They built secure homes
Plants around kept their distance
Do not venture too closely
Was knowledge all knew
Skies flicker
Rains come and go
The tree stands
The proud humans come
Knowing nothing
Of unspoken forest law ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/03/a-tree-in-forest.html

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.Robert Frost - The Road not taken
 
Oh how I long, dear poet of old
For that problem of which I was told
Two roads in the wood, diverging slowly
Seems so wonderful as to render it holy
Oh, how simple this life could be!
Life, as I learn painfully, is difficult
Bridges are burnt and later rebuilt
Paths are backtracked even while changing
Inconsequential decisions universally ranging
While we spend hours on matching paths
I see the beauty, I really truly do
On reducing the number of paths to two
But the campaign for honesty is here
To reduce the natural anxiety and fear
Of a man with only one difficult decision
Worry not, many-issued person of today!
I'll restate these lines in a more applicable way
A thousand sets of a thousand sets of paths diverged in a thousand cities, and I-
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has still made all the difference.
***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/choices.html

Often we go through life without even a care

So let's take a moment, to be self-aware

What I do, as I commune poetically

Is possible only because of my vocabulary

Since birth I've been building my bank of words

The meanings and subtleties I've since inferred

That my poetry is a sum of me currently

Simply because to me life was locally lucky

English is my own language, and dominant enough

I've never needed a second way to express stuff

My privilege, my fortune, and in a way, my curse

Is I've never had to learn another way to express verse

As a result, I can be quite nuanced and complex

In a manner of expression which can leave others vexed

'cause I've had a headstart, of my whole life I guess

So when the domain is English I can seem to impress

But now to acknowledge the expense of my lucky 'gift'

I am verbally sparse in every other language to exist

Yet others manage, with such grace and intellect

That their non-nativeness becomes natural to forget

And then

They apologise to me for lacking a little, sometimes

Because their short learning doesn't match my lifetime's

While I have zero expertise in where they come from

They feel so bad for being ever so slightly wrong

So this is a shout out, to those struggling in a second tongue

You are wise beyond years, I'm linguistically young

Never feel ashamed if you ever have to enquire or ask

These verbal tricks of mine are a single language mask

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/second-language.html

You poor little thing, you impossible soul

You who hold the most difficult goal

That among every human on this decrepit earth

Only you have been perfect since birth

The rest of us mortals, we pale next to you

Engaging in things only you have right to

So clearly only thee, blesséd among all

Have the final say and ultimate call

I've never seen you step over your line

Knowing precise the justness of crime

Always in the right place, exactly the right amount late

With the perfect etiquette for first second and third date

If we differ on an issue, it's always me who is wrong

If we sing different tunes, then I know not the song

I've never seen you admit to losing any sort of debate

About who it's right to love, and whom I must hate

I'm trying to learn from you, I really am

From such an honest and uncorrectable man

You give me such much feedback and also advice

About who I am and why I'm not nice

So accept my sympathy, you poor little thing

About the day to day horrors this earth must bring

For it must give you much stress and cause you much fuss

To live among mortals such as us.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/you-perfect-man.html

Life happens as it occurs to me.
Sometimes, life occurs gently.
Then life is blissful almost wistful running through clouds of mist I'll see each memory as it arrives and feel alive and so
I'll acknowledge the collage of colours life displays knowing that each and every day is just a collection of seconds yet
Each second is my first and life is not trying its worst it's just trying like each of us to get a grip or grasp on everything and anything
Although life is full of stress and somewhat a mess I swear and I declare that more than any other thing existing on this entity we call earth
Life is
Life is what?
It just is.
It exists.
That's the purpose of Life.
The rest of us
We find beauty in that meaning
Distil filter add what is our own and take away from that what we can
An elixir of essence
Then drink my friend
Down
Down to the last drop
Let it infuse with you and become even more you
Life is
We can try to plan or to panic
To fight flight or flounder
To stress savour or strive
To live or to lie
In the end life happens at its own pace
One second per second
As it always has

As it always will
As it occurs to us ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/02/as-it-occurs-to-me.html

The man I knew was full of surprises
Although I saw through all his disguises
He shocked and inspired me every day
Allowed me to develop (in my own special way)
The man I knew, well, he also knew me
We'd share experiences, wherever they'd be
We'd share the world, this man and I
Or how we laughed in times gone by
The man I knew did not come with me though
The man I knew could not follow where I'd go
The man I knew waited, as I developed afar
The man I knew now seems somewhat bizarre
Because the man I knew did not grow in my absence
He kept all my old prejudice and ignorance
Gained no new memories, and stayed quite still
In the manner of the comatose and deathly ill
See, I treasured my time deeply with the man I knew
I spend my time today with another man, quite new
Because though the man I knew doesn't really exist anymore
The man I knew is just the man I was before ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/the-man-i-knew.html

A goodbye can be many things. Yet it is just one word
This is polysemy. From one word, many meanings
Many different responses which can thus be inferred
From a simple goodbye emerges many feelings
"Goodbye Today" is said with closing eyes
An an inevitability in every utterance
The routine sadness is mere inevitability
As it's said with mechanical competence
The goodbye to a hero, that they cannot hear
To an inspiration you may never have met
A person who got you through your darkest year
Though they've gone their legacy is your safety net
Goodbye to a habit you've had for a while
Wishing a life with new habits and motives
Those it may have brought you many a smile
And the impact of its absence will be explosive
The casual goodbye, which later meant much more
A last word you didn't realise would be your last
When you didn't realise what the future had in store
As life has simply moved by you too fast
Goodbye is more versatile than we ever give it credit
We put much burden on the shoulders of this sound
So, until and if we meet again, please don't forget it
How much a goodbye can mean when it's around ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/goodbyes.html

This is today.

You're experiencing it live.

Front row tickets.

Now what will you see....

This is today,

Not yesterday, that's done and over with

No replay, so let's make it different. I saw it first hand

I say, yesterday, is old news.

This it today,

Not tomorrow, we're not ready yet

We come gracefully towards it soon. But for now

Let's have some grounding in the present

This is today,

Your whole life has been leading here, you know

That hole in your timeline is now filled. It is

Your soul, your flow. Your current.

This is today,

Though I've said this before, it's never the same tone

To strive to understand that in this moment. Only now

Are we alive, to experience today.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/this-is-today.html

I pledge to listen more this coming year.
What if I agree with someone on an issue?
I will listen carefully to how we agree, in the hope that they can further my understanding and nuance, and find more wonder in what I already enjoy.
What if someone is passionate about something I am not?
I will listen to understand their passion, either to further it in them, or to elicit it in myself. Just maybe, the spark of a new interest may burn. I will not put someone down for having different interests to myself.
What if we disagree?
I will assume the disagreement is because of a well-thought out structure. I will endeavour to take the same path they did, and understand their journey.
What if their ideas are dangerous?
I will seek to understand, before I seek to marginalise. Seek to help enlighten them, before I seek to blind them. It is possible I am wrong.
What if they're bored of me?
I will give people polite opportunities to leave, if I can. I will accept that, on the whole, I am bad at reading signals, and should always allow people a chance to get away.
And what if I'm bored?
I will seek to find interest, and something to spark mutual energy.
Mostly, I will try to find the best in people. Find why they live their lives, as they obviously live one I do not.
I will try.
For that is all I can do. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-pledge.html

What is that boy, you've created something new?
Well that's fantastic, I'm so proud of you
With that last statement being so nearly true
To create is dangerous boy, did no one say?
You can't just make something then go on your way
You're invested now stay, see what I have to say
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
Oh, you have spent so long, you have worked so hard
You have overcome adversity when the way has been barred
Now you poured your heart into a creation, you are such a card
Because you think the difficult bit to be behind
Well, buckle up boy, you had better change your mind
Because that is not the reality that you are ever going to find
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
Release your creation boy, your public await!
Put it out in the world and embrace the hate
Your trainings in station, so don't be late
What you've made is surely offensive
Or a copy or flawed so get apprehensive
You took the risk, now get on the defensive
To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days
...
Dear Sir. I'm afraid I must ardently protest
See I know you're only saying what you know best
But I've found every creation is worth the invest
You get hit hard, I know that to be true
But every creation is just a reflection of you
Worth the perspiration for any person who enjoyed it too
To create is risky, but now I'm in this game
Sure I'll go through my fair share of shame
It's not because I'm trying to not be the same

What a beautiful thing is the monument in fate

To the strive and toil that marks this date

With the unique thing, existing only when you decided to create

I am a Christian, but I am not an evangelist.
See, I do believe, I find beauty in the bounty of creation, and without hesitation (or even much provocation) I can say why I find it amazing we exist.
It's had an impact on my life, minimised my strife, is important for if I ever seek out a wife, and that my faith is never something I have missed.
But that's exactly it, it's been ever present never evanescent simply a part of my element and evident in more ways than I could ever list.
I'm not sure I could ever do without, and so I'm scared to shout to preach aloud, though I'm allowed, and truly proud, but too much of an analyst
See, I never enter argument without indicant that I myself could find I could change mind were I too unwind and find myself an unwanton errorist
I care too deeply, too invested in the answer, to be tested, lest I'm bested, not in jest but in a way which strikes me as a theorist.
And yet, that's nearly all that I encounter as a doubter I will shout the protestation that "I'm still not sure about this"
And so it goes. All around me know and show certainty and thus I stand awkwardly in piety for myself that while I do believe as a Christian in Christ and all his gifts.
I am not an evangelist. ***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/im-christian.html

It's one of the nicest things I've got to do
Be a friend to someone a little like you
You know the situation, go somewhere new
Scared about what you're going to go through
Not sure if people are friends or rival
On your toes from point of arrival
You're being judged, it feels the whole while
I'll be the friendly face and smile
It's not much effort, I swear that here
To realise if someone is feeling fear
To just be kind, and tease them out of the shell
Especially if you remember going through that hell
As they come and go, replaced with many more
To be kind to all who walk through that door
It's similar for you, but unique for them
Worth the effort to be a port in the mayhem
***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/a-friend-in-strange-place.html

An animal on the street is must curious
Because usually you find them furious
Cars honking at them from both ways
Doesn't help to alleviate delays
Equine was the creature that I saw
Four legs stood on tarmac floor
Giving no sign of trying to move
Happily painted in paved road grooves
I'd been stood a while at the scene
Just wondering what it could mean
Key to this scene is that I waited
Let the scene progress as it was fated
Making no attempt to startle the beast
Not tempted to approach, and become feast
Obviously this irritated those at the wheel
Politely yelling if I was real
Quite clear, I pointed at the danger
Realising I had to help the stranger
Slowly, carefully, I explained clear
That stripes on the road gave me fear
Understanding nothing, he started to yell
Very loudly that I could go to hell
Walking out his car door to shout
X-ing the road to engage in the bout
"You an idiot, you fool" (He shouted to chafe)
Zebra crossings are perfectly safe ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/zebra.html

I've never had wings.
I've never felt the wind.
Yet for what I have known.
I may well have flown.
One time, when I was five, I ran really fast.
Everyone around gaped and gasped as I galloped past
I leapt onto the bench in front of me and pushed down
Nor the lack of height nor the impact could make me frown
Age twelve, older, wiser, I did slightly better
All I simply did was to pen my predicament in a letter
Attach it with twine to the leg of something which could fly
And feel my insides and my words jump high
One year ago, actually, on this very day, I
tried to see if I could touch the sky
I got very close, by climbing the tallest ladder I could find
(Or at least, I got quite close in my mind)
Then, in fact, I tried once more just last week
I am sad to say that my arms were too weak
Though I flapped up and down, it just wasn't enough
As just a sadly (un-avian) ball of muscle and fluff
But what can I take from there steps into the unknown
For I still can't really say by any measure that I've flown
But I still ignore the doubters, and those with contempt.
For after all, I've tried. And the pleasure's in the attempt ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/12/flight.html

I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, I don't have all the facts
I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, there are points of view I lack
I'm ignorant, I'm ignorant, but I'm trying to pick up the slack
'Cause I'm ignorance, and that ignorance, is being but under attack
There are so many things that I know I don't know
And I have to say that sometimes it really does show
That to stay ignorant is a common status quo
A place I have to try hard not to go
See, I don't know much about many countries
If there is any interaction between birds and bees
Why it is that mornings cause so much pain (say what?)
Or how to stop a runaway train of thought
I just about know how to tie a bow tie
But not what to do if I see a baby cry
Why it is politics causes such heated debate
Or why some people so quickly turn to hate
So, here's something I really don't know to be true
Which is really, just who on earth are you?
Your religion, your faith, or your philosophy
If you consider sleep saviour or monstrosity
Like so many others, you are the sum of many parts
Adding up to give the world an impression to impart
In this world where we are so quick to blame strangers
We don't often stop to think of the dangers
I've seen so much recent hate, it's startlingly common
Insulting and scapegoating in manners ad hominem
I can't argue against, because I don't know enough to represent
All I ask is that you too realise you are ignorant. ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/ignorant.html

In art, no one has a blank canvas.
...
At the start of all art, you have to be reverential
Because at heart every start is purely potential
We could unfold any world with that blank page
Because the world is whirled onto every stage
So why then, why? Do we have styles and trends
Because my oh my, don't you even pretend
That you don't have topics and tropes that you prefer
Have themes and schemes you always wish to infer
See the blank page is blank. That much is true.
But let me be frank while seeking no thank you
As the artist we must be incredibly stained
As someone who's the sum of how we've trained
Even the creative take comfort in what they make
Don't sink in to thinking this makes you a fake
Don't infer it's a sin to prefer one style or thing
Else you'd likely never ever make anything
When given the blank canvas. You must be aware
How your past steers you to the art hidden there
And other pasts would steer you in other ways
With no past you'd be staring at blank canvas for days
But, here's the twist, in case you missed it (and you care)
The more empty your mind's canvas, the more you find there
***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/potential.html

To say I'm an old school cur is a rule of thumb,
But I love things that whirr, and things that hum.
A machine with too many gears and too many parts,
Is something I revere in my heart of hearts.
It's not at all suspect, in fact it's quite clear
When that thing there hits this thing here
One part goes clonk so that another goes clink
Which leads to a bonk so I don't have to think.
Machines these days are way too small,
How to know if they work at all?
If it erks 'n' jerks on a molecular scale,
With what size hammer do I smash it when it fails?
How am I to be a handy type of dandy man,
With objects that fi in the palm of my hand?
I love to grind, to tinker and to strive,
But this machine thinks and it's not even alive!
So back to the old school, with rust dust and levers
I remain with no shame the most ardent reverer
Down with the scientific witchery of present day
Who do modern engineers think they are anyway? ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/things-that-whirr.html

No one watches tv anymore. We wouldn't dare.

We've got real life if we want our scare

We tell stories and tales of days gone by

Of the lost generation, of those on standby

It used to be, we would stare long into screens

It would give us laughter. It would give us screams

We'd plug ourselves in at the start of today

Put on our boots-up, and then press play

The key was never to acknowledge, of even admit

You'd lost days to a being, forced to commit

But what did that being do, with it's extra hours

What was the reach and source of its powers?

We tried to plug it up, but that made it worse

It would screeach and wail, if put in reverse

So we let it go on, stealing our time

Until we had none left to give of our prime

That was them, the standby generation

Who watched it happen without hesitation

They're gone forever, each boy woman and man

But their neon ghosts still haunt our land

***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/11/neon-ghosts.html

Here's the answer to a question that you weren't even asking

There is no such thing as a perfect casting

For that book you adore that fills you with amour

When put on screen just leaves you wanting more

See this is the issue with our imagination

We fill in details and cracks with no hesitation

There are no seems, just seamless transitions

Which never even endeavours to require our recognition

Even right now, somehow, you are reading this in a certain way

The voice in your head acts with emotion, with disdain and dismay

And were I to read it to you, my way, in a voice of my own

It would not seek to replace the seed or tone your imagination has sown

There is no such thing as a correct way to experience art

But there is the first way, which left the imprint on our heart

Such that, when someone seeks to recreate that anew

It's just natural it wont be in the way that is personal to you.

***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/reviewing-art.html

I've done this before.
This day to day
Waking up in dismay
The repeat and replay
To all work and no pay
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
The eternal tired
The never inspired
My headache is fired
My nerves are wired
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
The ever-fake smile
And yet all the while
A face in denial
Of internal trial
I've done this before.
I've done this before.
You may know it too
And this to be true
What we've been through
Is never that new
We've done this before.
But what is it for?
That glimmer of change
Just out of range
Asks much in exchange
It may seem strange
I've seen it before.
I say nothing more
But that it's worth fighting for.

It's time that this world did not forsake me
No lie, it's tried, to bow down and break me
It fried me inside as it tried to bake me
Wanting to expose, but finding no fakery
It would never hold back
So I weathered attack
Of smacks front and back
That would felled any hackThough not framed in my favourThis game's to my flavourThe danger, I'll savour'til I emerge slave or a savior
I arose unbound from the ground
Though my soul it did hound
Alive now I'm found
Crowned a man of renown
This Earth will strike again
It matters not when
For now as for then
I have not forgotten
This earth's not one to trust
I'll fight 'til I'm dust
Until I'm bones and rust
Just doing what I must ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/break-me.html

Your own experience of the world is not invalid.
The emotions you feel are very much real
There is no bubble that is more real than any other
No possible interference of anything but a real experience
It is not only they who have it worst who has a right to complain
Anyone can feel depression or anxiety or pain or PTSD
And yet, we must also, as always, acknowledge the inverse
We must be kind, not terse; whether or not our friend has it worse
See, when I look worldwide at the struggles other humans face
I can't help but feel bad for complaining about how I feel sad
As if the sheer resilience and courage so many manage to show
Means I should refrain from the response due to chemicals in my brain
I am not saying don't feel sorry for them. I'm not encouraging apathy
Go out and make a difference, join every indifference resistance
Merely saying that it's also ok for you to cry and laugh, if you need
You are always permitted to feel, that your experience is real.
***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/10/first-world-problems.html

Never forget your youth, dear reader.
By which I mean the truth.
Not of simple nostalgic flights of fancy
Your days were not that angelic
Not, simply of this fact, good friend
You'll realise if you think back
That you were made to conform each day
You were dressed in uniform
You were made to parade in dress
That was only ever a façade
There was no reason, though I say
To suggest so was treason
No financial incentive, as in employment
Just a crush on fashion inventive
There are no individuals, in a crowd of the same
Just uniformed residuals.
One day, I happened to go back to my school.
Back to the place that started it all.
To the place I was never cool.
But back as a much wiser fool.
I came in colour. And felt alight.
When wondering through those halls.
No longer fitting in. I drew stares and gossip.
Setting me apart with knowledge
knowledge the pupils had yet to grasp
I smiled. ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/colour-in-crowd.html

We, as a country, elect a leader
(Near enough we do anyway)
This leader is sent to live in London
And in London they'll tend to stay
A five minute walk from work
What a beautiful place to reside
And if you go to Downing Street
You can see through the leader's eyes
See, what's telling is not the gates
The security looking the part
What's telling is the surroundings
The feel, the look, the Art
Some of our leaders have gone to war
More sent others in their stead
Some of those others came victorious, some came defeated
Most they came back dead.
As if in protestation, the country, well
The country responded in force
Not to say they were wrong or at fault
Although some of them were, of course.
Merely to make many a monument
A testament to those dead throngs
Then make many more (for we've many a war)
Built strong of stone and bronze.
Each war is different, each monument too
But somehow all the same
Trying to tell our leader, shouting it silently
That war is not a game. ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/on-streets-of-our-leader.html

I look out for myself, in my own way,
I try to take care of the day to day
I watch for trouble, look for danger
Every other human is essentially a stranger
So I keep myself aware and healthy
For this is a tie that binds me
But I can't just watch out for myself blindly
Throughout my life I've loved my family
They've supported me since I was a child
Now I give shelter away from the wild
I love my family, and do what I must,
For these are the ties that bind us.
I care for friends, trying not to cause fuss
I give 'em support and advice if I must
My confidants, those to whom I turn
With differing thresholds I try to learn
I joke and tease, to try to be kind
For these are more ties that bind
I love the country with which I'm aligned
I care for its heart, body and mind
Though honestly we may not always agree
I do care and work and hope for my country
I should vote, protest and aid sans hesitation
For these are ties that bind our nation
I care for those across all boarders
The sharers, cares, hopers and hoarders
We are you united by no more than our biology
The empathy inherent inside humanity
Opportunities are sparse, but I do what I can
For the ties that bind me to my fellow man
We all care, in one way or another
For family, community, country or lover
Recognise those with whom we share lives
Those on whom we depend to survive
The question is where we draw our line
Between our ties that bind

*** http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-ties-that-bind.html

Dear human,
Rest assured this letter is not of the form I would love to write
I would love to claim moral height of what is wrong and right
I dearly desire to dismantle and dissent of all that you do
But I can't. The truth is, I don't even know you.
Dear human,
You untouchable being separated by electronic waves and wires
One of humanities many enragers, saviours, liars or criers
The fact is, I don't know you. Not in any meaningful way
Though we may have met, or may indeed meet someday.
Dear human,
The reason I'm labouring (maybe straining) this particular issue
Is that I've literally no idea what hardships you've been through
You may be fathering a child, have never smiled, or be just fine
I'm sad to say I don't know your struggles, as you don't know mine.
Dear human,
When my dear friend posted about her experience with sexual assault
I hope you realise, regardless of appearance, that this wasn't her fault
That she may have already gone through enough stress, anguish and fear,
Without you saying "your arse was grabbed once. Not exactly the sinking of the titanic here".
Dear human,
I've no idea why you or I may choose to say the things we say
I like to think us all honest and blessed, in our own little way
Maybe you really do judge everything life brings by the same metric
Judging life as if you're thinking you are sinking on the titanic.
Dear human,
I would dearly love for this letter to allow me to shame and rage
But I clearly don't know you, and we're not on the same page
I don't know your life and struggles, and I'm not going to pretend
I just wish you had realised to do the same to my good friend.

This was a five part poem. Only the first three fit in the description, links to the other two are below.

Stage 1: The Gates

Are you really alive? Are you really awake?
Is all this real, or might it be fake?
Do you know for certain, can you be sure?
In which domain you dwell either side of dreams door?
Let us propose to postpone pomp and pretence
Stop with the certainty, admit self-synthesised sense
This world, whatever it be, confuses all the human race
We struggle to reason, just ruse to wear a brave face
For those who walk the borders between lands, beware
I have known men slip the line of neither here nor there
Traverse an edge long enough, who knows what you find
When the certain become stuff, you know not you own mind
Let us journey, the glory is always in adventure
To the initial question, which I felt brave to venture
Of if we are in dream, or dwell with the awake
I propose it matters not. Regardless, we shall undertake
To shine. Let us make promises and favour, debts to be owed
Let us adventure so our subconscious struggles to lay road
Whichever world we find ourselves, lets us still be proud
Let us prod dwell and delve, meet our destiny unbowed Stage II: The passage

The dreaming is not a difficult place to enter
You've probably done so yourself many a time
Any meaning or memory you must face to surrender
To protect everyone against dream crime
The dreaming is more fragile than you've been told
A single misstep and it'll break
Usually seeming to occur just as the good bit takes hold
You suddenly find yourself awake
Those who are versed in passage can avoid this path
We've seen some shape dreams to their will
They've rehearsed an age to hone their craft
Weave reams and make seams with utmost skill
They always get the kiss before opening eyes
Can always utter that last goodbye
For days they've waited in bliss where they lie
No sound say they but a sigh
Beware, though, should you chose this path
Do not draw attention to you presence
The Lord of Dream enjoys a laugh
You should seek prevention from this circumstance
Tread soft. Get the girl after time. Fly low.
There is much to offer a traveller in Dream
Don't act aloft, being hasty is a crime y'know
Be aware from this storyteller not to blaspheme

Stage 3: Comfort

It is often the curse of life, that we get too comfortable in our way
We're all versed in strife, too ameliorated with the day to day
Too easy to get a trifle too used to do tomorrow what you did today
See the same eye full of images emerging as if they're on replay
It is all too easy, to turn to live a life that's sedentary
You must seize the day be on guard like the sentry
Unlock the problem the keys of the solution elementary
Lest you freeze sans delay you must force your entry
Nowhere is this more true than when discussing your dreams
Nothing more sticky than glue than thrice failed schemes
To explore through I implore you to live in new regimes
And force into new ways of sleep, experience extra extremes
Do not fall into the same wish, night on night
Do not stall when deciding to walk or take flight
You must know by now what is easy may not be right
You must show your strength, for courage is a fight

***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-1-gates.html

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-ii-passage.html

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-3-comfort.html

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/08/stage-4-dreaming.html

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/09/stage-5-sleep-paralysis.html

When I was born

And when you were too

Some sounds were uttered

Then given to you

You held on tight

Still do to this day

To that utterance

Which you portray

The sound is not unique

To you or another

Yet it's certainly yours

To be learnt to a lover

These sounds are you

Pick you out from crowds

Yet mean nothing more

Than what you allow

They are arbitrary

But that doesn't mean

They can't be you

Who you are, who you've been

Did you stop to wonder

To if you had different sounds?

Would you be the same

If that different you were found?

It matter not

For you are simply you

But it's also fact

Your name is you too.

***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/names.html

IMPORTANT: THIS IS A PSA

IF YOU'VE RECENTLY FOUND YOURSELF DOWN ON A MONDAY

LESS ENTHUSIASTIC THAN MANY OF YOUR BUSINESS COLLEAGUES

UNABLE TO FOCUS ON ANY CIRCULAR OBJECT WITHOUT WANTING TO THROW IT

TRYING MOTIVATION CHANTS BEFORE IMPORTANT MEETINGS

SPIKING ANY REPORTS DONE ON TIME TO AN ACCEPTABLE STANDARD

OR EVEN JUST RELISHING CRAMP FOR THE MEMORIES IT CONTAINS

THEN YOU,

ARE SUFFERING,

FROM,

POST TOURNAMENT BLUES...

The post tournament blues are the downfall of us all

Where most incidents renew your recall of a call

Since recent emotions have been so intense and too high

Your mind's location is green pitches and blue sky.

The speech replay of the captain trying to inspire you at half

The point of day where you were in pain 'til a team mate made you laugh

Your saviour, near enough flying in a bid to make up for your mistake

You savour this stuff near crying until you have to fake you're awake.

Snap back to reality, and ain't it cold?

You lack normality, though it should've taken hold

See, the moments where you are most real and alive

Paid atonement now in the struggle to feel and strive.

You miss your team. You miss your friends.

You want to scream and make it end

It's the price we pay, for bonds so tight

My advice today, to make it right.

Is to enjoy the tournament most, while you are there

To not annoy or taunt the host, to show you care

To play with spirit and heart, try not to be fake

Today give it your part, for all of our sake.

It may not make it any better the day after

Trying to fake along with the office laughter

Just know if you make your tournament and invest all you can do

Your team is doing what they do best, and sharing that feeling with you.

And with your team behind you, you can do damn near anything.

***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/post-tournament-blues.html

History is written by the winners, as you know. By the victors, the ones who come in first.
Usually, rightly so. They fight and battle so when it matters they don't end up as worst.
With great respect we honour their names. Learn our lessons from their paths
They're showered in riches, respect and fame. We study their skills and mimic their craft.
Winners are two a penny, as far a history is concerned. You can find them ending each story.
This poem is dedicated to those who're spurned. Whose fate is somewhat more gory.
This is an ode to the loser. A tale of the downtrodden. A requiem for the ever unrealised.
It was felt they are owed a chance to explain and broaden the perception of those never idealized.
You see, there is beauty in the struggle
Drawn from a duty to not crumble
There is much to be learnt from the fight
Even if victory is not earnt that night
To the resilient soldier in dulled armor
The brilliant lover in cold amour
The persistent in the face of defeat
The ever-resistant but finally beat
For the strength to be defeated, but still keep going
Make the conflict be repeated, scars still showing
To rise from the ashes to still get burnt
To live through the crashes, with knowledge earnt
We should remember that life is not just made of victories
You can learn from those who lost well
That throughout all of history
The man who came in second still has a tale to tell ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/dedicated-to-loser.html

I am not a smart man. I was never even a smart boy.
What I am, is curious. Curiosity leads to preoccupations.
Which leads to you forgetting whether or not you've eaten lunch.
Alternatively, it also leads to finding out some rather cool things.
The issue I have is, there are so many things to be curious about.
The world has so many wonders, lots of which are distressingly difficult to discover.
As such, as soon as one discovery is made, it must be abandoned.
If only to embark on the next great adventure.
This means I forget a lot of things.
That discoveries are lost. Even if only to be rediscovered later.
That what was once known, is no longer.
That one must never become certain, if a person is to keep changing and evolving
So, before I forget:
I need to remember that I am a different person today
Than I was yesterday, the day before, and all days prior.
And, going on from that, to who I will be tomorrow.
Before I forget, I need to remember that though I have moved away from dear friends
I have always gained fantastic new ones.
There are now so many people and faces I have known.
The chance to reacquaint myself should never be ignored, lest it never reappear.
Before I forget, I need to remember all the people who have helped me
Even if it were to no benefit to themselves.
That the kindness of others works best if passed on.
That sometimes you don't see the rewards of your efforts, and that's ok.
Before I forget, I need to remember that I know no mind but my own
And even of my own mind I'm not completely certain
That others are fighting battles of which I have no idea of the battlefield or the dreadful enemy
But that refuge in such battles is always appreciated.
Before I forget, I need to remember that I began a beginner.
Before I forget, I need to remember that the past had it's flaws, and so will the future
Before I forget, I need to remember why I learnt whatever it was in the first place
Before I forget, I need to remember that how ever much I experience, I can never capture life perfectly inside me.
But mostly, before I forget
I need to remember what made me who I am in the first place
I need to remember, always, to stay curious ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/before-i-forget.html

The aliens came to destroy us, which was only fair
We'd been instituting polluting without a care
We'd been renegades of morality, aka the human race
The rest of destiny would not be ours to face
However, before we were vapourised to just a residue
The aliens were of a kind mind to give us our due
They gave us an offer which we couldn't refuse
The single message of our legacy was soon world wide news
Who would deliver it, and what would it say?
We'd quarrel and war for all of the day
"Us" said the white men "we've been the rulers"
"We're the cleverest, the cunningest, sit back as we school ya"
"Nah" said the mothers "We won't take that anymore"
"They should hark at the matirach not your tale of gore"
Said the blind "We've seen humanity for how they truely are"
The artists "It's our duty to tell of our beauty and bizarre"
The refugees told of our notions of what is was to be free
The disabled enabled visions of our heirarchy
The old told of what we'd done to deserve our fate
The honest would admonish us for our holding of hate
The evangelist spiel was to tell of our sin
The atheist's tone was his own, but said the same thing
Voices rose, and we came to roar and yell
The aliens watched as earth turned to hell
Their job done for them, they turned to leave
Humanity instigation of its own decimation was beyond reprieve
They felt a tug on their robe, just before they left us to our gory glory
As a young child smiled, and simply said "sorry" ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/07/our-last-message.html

Once more, my friends, is all it takes
Muster energy once more for all our sakes
Once more is all it needs to be
Until we shall be once more free
Once more, those old words of inspiration
Just once more with effort and perspiration
Once more and all will be over and all will be done
We shall once more be free to be someone
Once more, I promise, I swear it's true
Marshall energy now and you'll soon be once more through
Once more, the end is now nearly in sight
Try once more now and be done by night
Once more, once more, that fickle phrase
You've gone through many ill-fated days
And all I ask, this final score
Is for you to take this journey, just once more
I said once more my friends, because in truth I'm weak
All our journeys are necessarily unique
What's once more for me is no more for you
But trouble is still better once it's through
So when I say once more, I say it kind
For I will say I do not know your mind
I do not know what once more would take for you
Just that the fact that it's just once more is true. ***

http://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2015/06/once-more.html