Outside there is noise, and cameras and crowds.
Taxis pulling away, police land-rovers and cordon tape.
Inside, quiet and dark. With men in white overalls,
Stools lying on their sides, glass broken on the bar.

He lies on his side, face turned in to the toilet door.
Legs curled a little like a child, he does look small.
There are no marks visible, no disturbance. Just him.

Nor is there life in his hollowing face and unseeing eyes.
He is still, the skin pallid looking older than the day before.
No essence or spirit or vitality; that has drained out, in
a thick dark pool under and around him. He is not there.

They call it a gift,
Oh the wonder of it
Its 20/20 perfection
even keener reflection

to shed light and excuse, oh
lucky the man who has it.
lucky to be able to explain;
how next, we’ll exercise refrain

wrong place wrong time
is a common el/ illucidation
but why infer misdemeanor
I prefer something less of a slur

Relationships, lovers, lives
Impacted by circumstance?
Or Jealousy driven vice
Exacting a pain free sacrifice

So fuck you yes you hindsight
Foresight and forethought too
I’m done with this escape card
For when it all goes askew
I’ll own my own guilt my internal haiku

Source: Kahlil Gibran: ‘On Friendship’

My absent other self,
perhaps my younger self
but not me, more my soul.
Gay boy, ginger boy, nature boy,
alone on the beach,
in the woods, behind a closed
door, buried in a book.
A day dream away
in some other place;
the huge lime tree or
maybe the yew out back
of my old childhood home.
A place in which to sit
high and unseen, yet
seeing and hearing. Then
I am in the boat, lingering,
fingering the cold calm
dark deep Straits Of Moyle,
crossing to Rathlin,
and a head bobs up
beside me, with eyes so full.
Eyes that so see me.
I feel the pull and
taste the yearning,
remember the stories,
recall my sense of place
and my desire to be.

So now I keep an eye out,
for my seashore token.
A gold doubloon, a shiny
Hag-stone in the surf
and the message that;
my time Is served,
my return is close,
my forgiveness is full,
my home is ready,
my loneliness is ending,
my circle complete.
My salty tears ready to join
add to the sum of theirs
and be at peace. Released back,
to my soul, sea, seal folk
from my stone bound shadow.
Renewed within my true
long lost Selkie skin.

Foot prints like a shadow
fading, seeping in and
lifting off,
in the suns bright glare
and the rocks warm,
worn presence.
Salty feet,
rested for such
a short time
like life, share the
same space and light,
then return, by leaving.
That is our,
share in this world’s
time piece, but a barely
perceptible,
or remembered
shadows veil.
That is; what we fear,
what we regret,
what we would change.
For most inevitable,
life’s short journey,
and why we need breathe,
deeply, remember,
be at ease,
smile and shine.

Long before your kind
Cast their stone bound shadow
across this land; the mound stood.
Overlooking the lough, crested by lush trees
And walked by boar and bear, wolf and lynx

But, come they did, slowly at first, hunting
Gathering, fishing, looking refuge, hunted.
With time, stone tools from the mounds
Own flesh, helped clear the trees shadows
Broke beasts bones, saw the first flickering flames

Wood for huts, stone for walls, meat
For hungry mouths, the deluge was on.
New shadows were cast by fortifications, totems
Stretched skins, curling smoke. New sounds
And smells arose in the sky, the time of gods.

The gods of leaf time, wood time, animal time
Of stone and flint, of shells of cloth and scent.
The kings and kinsmen drew their lands/lots
Held their own, raised clans, cleared pastures
Erected stones for life and death on the mound

Feet paced, feet followed hooves, feet stood still
All the time the sun rose and the moon traversed
And humankind bowed heads and raised eyes
Watched new comers fall upon them, and survived
The mound was food, and shelter, home and sacred.

And so it is. All is remembered by the mounds own flesh
Charred and cut, broken and taken, scarred and skinned
But the stone holds its own memories, if we could
But hear them, free them, listen them one more time.
The mound sighs, ah new bare cold feet and fire. ; listen!

Yes I know, feet and toes
Arms and shoulders
Legs and so much of
it in your head.
But my dance really began,
that out of head
And in my body dance;
When my yard lead the way.
When my hairy, peachy cheeks.
Yes my firm rear end
Swayed side to side,
Back and forth,
Up and down and
When my tail, my core
My warm, fiery piping
sexual centre,
Let loose, and held me tight
And set me free.
Then I danced

In the body,

Sweat, hot dripping wet sweat
And breathing, especially the breath,
and every muscle, sinew, joint
Bone organ dances..the skin
Oh yes all of the skin.
And things are small and tight
and then again, so soft
You might topple over
But that doesn’t matter,
The floor is always there whether you are standing,
lying, rolling, still.
Are you IN your body, do you,
Really feel those organs, the very muscle
the stretching and straining
The grip of toes and feet to the floor
Your spine long and tight then
Curved this way and that
Down into itself too.
Arms wrapped around, swirling around
Up and over and under and tight by your sides.
Stomach so flat and ripped and then full and fleshed out
And the breathing always the breath.
Moving swiftly, in and out around and under fast
And slow; still.
The music is a teacher, the music as a lover
The music is a tease and rudder.
And you smile and laugh
You yell and yawn and
Breath out loud and
Feel the air slide past.
Now it’s your feet carrying,
next your bodies root is drawing you in another direction,
or the back, a curving of the spine
and arms and head
Trails you left and right or forward and then back.
Fingers reaching and toes
gripping, sliding stamping, holding……the moment.
Your tail swings and carries,
sweeps you another way
The chest reaches out and caves in
Shoulders roll and rotate and rise and fall and everything else
Follows. The hands curl and chase, the fingers dancing
Their own wave, grasping air
perhaps even another’s prayer.
The eyes see but not always
the way we move and where we go.
How we avoid isn’t always clear
And sometimes you don’t,
Fingers touch those that are another’s, eyes meet,
Glimpse a smile, yes you smile too.
Bodies acknowledge the dance and the dancers
The wave lifts and also sets you down
The body grows and glows and fills and
Rolls and weaves and settles
And there is Sweat, hot dripping wet
Sweet powerful ecstatic sweat
And breathing, especially the breath.

So here we are all gathered to stand
On for now this sweet sacred piece of ground
And witness loves coming together
Before a gathering of souls and natures weather.

Here happiness is placed in the hands of another
Each trusting in the conviction of selfless love
Part of life’s gathering in of family and friends, where
being the right partner is as important as marrying one.

In this month of nature’s coming harvest-tide &
ancient rituals of matchmaking, we witness
Before open skies, with good earth under foot
And seas around to hear, life’s promises exchanged.

Let us each in this moment share breath and in
Quiet reflection, now wish for joy, and laughter
good health and the love of true friends, of
Purposeful living and the blessings of long life.

Today this fathers once, meagre, small;
beautifully fragile myrrhy future, holds
another’s fingers sharing artlessly the same
unconditional love, heart achingly binding
promises and oaths, as it should be,
and the story, the journey continues.

For life is too short, and we each should remember
To love fiercely, embrace strength and patience
Be delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try,
one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting.
So may all now, gathered here together,
dwell on the possibilities on this day,
of promises and pledges exchanged,
of words of love shared;
and be joy filled
be heart fully excited
and be abidingly blessed.