Cracks

I look at the cracks in my life,

They that make it impossible for me

To hold onto anything

I always end up losing things

Never really understanding why

Until I looked in the mirror,

And saw the cracks…

Cracks not beautiful

Cracks that not even an artist can appreciate

Ugly cracks all about me

Who would want to be held,

In such a cracked vessel?

Tears almost stream down my face

As I think of my hopeless case

Who could ever want

A broken cistern like me…

You touch my face gently

And wipe the tears from my heart

And you smile

You say you love me

With my cracks,

Even before I was born

You loved me

Nothing more beautiful

Have you ever

Set your eyes on.

You love me through the cracks

Different

They see me in a different way.

Today, dressed in a dark business suit, 
a formal, striped cotton shirt, a silk tie, 
black leather shoes and belt, 
I attended another meeting.  
In my measured voice I presented situation and analysis, 
I commented and hypothesized, 
I held up my bold yet considered vision of a corporate future.

I was every inch the rational speaker, 
the somewhat naive yet passionate speaker, 
the instrument of enlightened change.

It is the part I have played down the years, 
from the wide-eyed, ambitious, kudos-hungry industry hopeful of then – 
to the relaxed yet still-dynamic, determined, resourceful strategist of now.

But it is not me.

You know me better.

I am a writer and a lover of beauty.  I am a proud man with a poetic heart and lost soul full of dark, delicious, decadent desires.

I am myself in my words.

Valentines

Romantic, that I am, 

I adore Valentine’s Day.

Not so much for the exchange of cards, gifts and supper between those who are already lovers.  Although I can see the romance, the affirmation, the enchantment and the intimacy – I have fallen under its amorous spell often enough

But what really makes February the fourteenth special 

is that it provides almost-strangers 

the perfect excuse and the ideal opportunity 

to flirt outrageously.

And to act dangerously.

Lessons from a pencil

“A pencil has five qualities which, if you manage to hang on to them,will make you a person who is always at peace with the world:

1. First quality: you are capable of great things,but you must never forget that there is a hand guiding your steps. We call that the hand God,and he always guides us according to his will.
   
2. Second Quality: now and then, i have to stop writing and use a sharpener. That makes the pencil suffer a little,but afterwards,he’s much sharper. So you, too, must learn to bear certain pains and sorrows,because they will make you a better person.
   
3. Third Quality: the pencil always allows us to use an eraser to rub out any mistakes.This means that correcting something we did is not necessarily a bad thing;it helps to keep us on the road to justice.
   
4. Fourth Quality: what really matters in a pencil is not its wooden exterior, but the graphite inside. So always pay attention to what is happening inside you.
   
5. Fifth Quality: a pencil always leaves a mark. In just the same way, you should know that everything you do in life will leave a mark, so try to be conscious of that in your every action.”

Reply

You texted to say you still miss me.

It was unexpected.  Out of the blue.

I imagined you frowning slightly as you typed out the words with your quick fingers, the soft click and clatter of your nails on the keypad.  I saw you tucking a stray lock of silky dark brown hair behind your ear, the jewellery I bought you glittering in the lobe.

I recalled the perfect skin of your elegant throat.

I tried to remember your eyes.

I loved you.  So much.

But time, distance, and the shadows of another, have blurred all those once certain edges.

It has taken me three days to reply