Collision I was written as an all nighter after a poetry workshop, the words flowing from a part of me I’m only now starting to find and trust. Having dived some pretty amazing waters around the globe I’m only too well aware there’s some pretty impressive beauty to be found at depth. As well as a whole lot of fear. This poem reached both.

Having been to my first poetry slam a month prior, I was inspired to rewrite Collision as a performance poem. A few hours of mindful flow and a few deep dives later, Collision II was complete.

Not having stepped on a stage since I was at school, with a number of derailments happening around me, a few things needed to be given a voice. It was time to reclaim I.

Where have words taken you?
The recesses of a dark alley

Where no light shines?

Centre stage?

Words inspire thought and

Thought creates words.

Blank space left for the

Unsayable

Unspeakable

Deniable.

Wordless.

(PAUSE)
Space.

Speaks.

Loud.

One stumble, one step
One fall, one rise
I hear your cries.
Life’s slopes are not always slippery
They are simply steep
Keep going. Up.
So that a path may be revealed before you

And the net will catch you when you leap
Because YOU were born

And YOU will learn most from situations

YOU
Did not choose

Never forget yourself
And YOU shall not lose.
Where there is space

There is thought.

And where there is need

Don’t just do something,

Stand there.

Give voice to the voices

Silenced by the lies and secrets

Of untold paths

Injustice

Untruth


And words not told.
The smack sellers
sleep in the park

Their pain perhaps

Not quite fully understood

By the family dwellers

Next door

Nor the system
That opens the doors
Then slams them in their face. Less.
Will their mothers keep inviting them back

Again and again and again

Maybe not.

Do they even know they’re there?

Do they even care?

How do I know you are who you say you are

When you lie only to yourself.

Have you been telling secrets that

You

Should not have been told?

Or is your history
A mystery you feel compelled to withhold?
Don’t tell anyone.

I can’t tell anyone.

Vulnerability.
Will apology provide tranquility?
I’m not even sure you would want to hear the truth?

I want to listen to you.

I am trying to listen to you.

I still am listening to you.

I really want to listen to you.

What if she was your daughter?

I don’t want you to listen.

I need you to hear.

Lost in the abyss of first world problems

Old world dreams.
And too great a list of needs
Sprouting seeds
Of discontent
Disillusion
Darkness under the surface
Lack of purpose
Greed.
Social media creating
Social erosion
I plead.
With your lips and not your fingers
Talk to me.
Does your life make you feel content?
Is there a way to evoke an internal revolution
To support our evolution.
Sorry
There is no lock and key solution
Besides…
Why do we feel the need

To resolve a human story

Can it not be simply lived?

Without sanitising
Apologising
Categorising
Revitalising
Idolising
Systemising
Analysing
Criticising
Internalising
Glamourising
Compartmentalising
(PAUSE)
Ignoring.
Is painful paradox

What is needed

To make us change?

Sanitised death or the

Unsanitised experience

Of a life fully lived

Through love and pain

Experience and shame

Mistakes and battles fought
With head held high
Sharing no blame
Before you frame me in a box
I proclaim
And officially reclaim
I.
(PAUSE)
too

Cry in the bathroom

With a black coat hiding

The colour underneath.

Coraggio!

When words take you somewhere

Do they really take?

Or do they give?


you bloody ripper!

Today, I attended a poetry workshop facilitated by community poet, Padraig O’Tuama. The workshop was to develop skills in writing stories of sorrow and sadness, inspired by the words of others, particularly in the community sector.

We were asked at the beginning to share a line from a poem or poet that took us somewhere. I responded with the notion that everything inspires me: I am an observer of life and the world around me. And that is what inspires my words.

After five hours sitting in space, being provided with space, words inspired thought and thought created words.

Today, I understood the true power of words to take you somewhere.

Words are so much more than a jumble of letters.

With Padraig’s permission, I took the basis of the workshop and crafted the words of others with those of my own, scrawled with pen on paper over the course of the afternoon and those spinning round in my head after an extra long walk home due to being so lost in words, I missed my tram stop.

As I write, I will inspire thought. And thought will create words.

Held in their collided form, words have power.

No one likes a collision.

But they make you stop.

COLLISION

Where have words taken you?
The recesses of a dark alley
Where no light shines?
Centre stage?
Is painful paradox
What is needed
To make us change?
Sanitised death or the
Unsanitised experience
Of a life fully lived
Through love and pain
Experience and shame
Fear of letting go
Let go.
Like a balloon floating to the sky
I say thank you
And goodbye.
Knowing that I will not hold you again
Thank you
And goodbye.
Words inspire thought and
Thought creates words.
Blank pages left for the
Unsayable
Unspeakable
Undeniable.
Wordless.
Space.
Speaks.
Loud.
I hope your grips are firm.
Not all slopes are slippery
They are simply steep.
Keep going. Up.
So that a path may be revealed before you
And glad that there are gladder days beyond these days
Because you were born
And you will learn most from situations
You
Did not choose
Have you been telling secrets that
You
Should not have been told?
Do you want to hear the truth?
Don’t tell anyone.
I can’t tell anyone.
I want to listen to you.
I am trying to listen to you.
I still am listening to you.
I really want to listen to you.
I.
You.
I listen.
Do you hear?
What if she was your daughter?
I don’t want you to listen.
I want you to hear.
Sssh…
It’s nothing.
Lost in the abyss of first world problems
And old world dreams.
The smack sellers
sleep in the park
Their pain perhaps
Not quite fully understood
By the family dwellers
Next door
Will their mothers keep inviting them back
Again and again and again
Maybe not.
Do they even know they’re there?
Do they even care.
Why do we feel the need
To resolve a human story
Can it not be simply lived?
A story does not express
The finality of a story.
It is the instrument you choose
In the morning
Which shifts the story.
Sadness and darkness
Bundled in a box of glory
Thank you for your gifts.
Joy. Elation. Silence.
Shape shifter.
These are the instruments I choose.
Where there is space
There is thought.
And where there is need
Don’t just do something,
Stand there.
Give voice to the voices
Silenced by the lies and secrets
Of untold paths
Injustice
Untruth
Lies.
And words not told.
How do I know you are who you say you are
When you lie only to yourself.
If you can survive, survive it well
The facts of life
And stories of locked out lovers
Lamenting lost keys.
Where there is no program or title
The privilege of space
Has provided your key.
Vulnerability.
I too
Cry in the bathroom
With a black coat hiding
The colour underneath.
Coraggio!
When words take you somewhere
Do they really take?
Or do they give?
Where do words take you?
Somewhere
Anywhere
Just let them take you,
Thank you
And goodbye.

Today, instead of being an observer of life, I became an observer of words. 
Inspired by Padraig, other participants of the course, space and the words that cut through the air and my own thoughts, this poem is witness to the untold stories of sorrow, lost love, conflict, allowing oneself to let go and the experience of being human.

The collision of words resulted in one accidental poem.

3.30 am – you will never look the same.

you bloody ripper!

I look ahead
at a vastness of blue
Daydreaming of distant shores.
Each time we touch
Your calmness
Seeps through the pores
Of my soles.

Your fingers run underneath me
Grains of your weariness
Long distances they have travelled.
When there is no protection
The wind and the tides
Become our matchmaker.
You come back
Only to leave me again.

I close my eyes
Observing the thoughts of my mind
Each time we touch
You take parts of me with you.
Your magic
Seeps through the pores
Of my soul.

you bloody ripper! 

Inspired by Dan

Dedicated to Kal and Jarrod

How full would you be
If the world came to you
Imagine the pleasures
The journeys and tales
Colour and vibrancy
Of a world you could explore
Yesterday, now, tomorrow
Hues of colour
Blackness of sorrow.
Whenever you wanted
The world would make you full.

Travel a path
Filled with lessons and joy
Calmness of ocean depths
Mountain peaks of elation
Worth climbing.
The potential of your beauty
Hidden beneath your scars and rust
Reflects and inspires
The world would make you full.
I reach out to the world
I desire it’s presence
For guidance and vision
Energy and experience
Excitement and rest.
I reach further
And fumble
Tumbling to its core
On its axis I spin
Grasping to stop
To hold onto anything.
I sit still
Mindful
The world exists
I am already full.

you bloody ripper!

This is my first poem, inspired at 3am. Like my sketches, it was done in complete flow.