A Note.

A note.
A note to me.
A note to me from my body;
and it doesn't say 'Dear'
instead greets me with fear
and throws me in a mess
emotional, and in distress
can't forget and can't obsess.

A note.
A note to me.
A note to me from my body;
but it's all written in code,
yet I think I'm owed
a hint of what it's getting at,
clueless and bereft, I'm sat
blindly hoping, but can't deal with that.

Because I want to know -
I don't want to guess -
chances are I'll stumble my way through
the next few weeks and you
won't let me know the truth
until I've done what you didn't want me to do.

So in English, please,
my native tongue,
don't leave the words unsaid or run-
ing, crashing, into one another,
spilling from your mouth to gutter,
I'm still none-the-wiser, still I wonder...
so help me out, alright, would ya?

A letter.
A letter to me.
A letter to me from my body;
you didn't sign it off,
just left it in the air and dropped,
the ball on me, shaking, thundering
rain clouds leave me juggling
all the plates, my fingers fumbling.

And if I'm honest, I think that I know your meaning,
but if there's nothing I can do to stop this feeling,
then maybe I'm always going to be reading
your note
but it don't float
'cause I'm me
it's no joke
you must know this by now
after all,
nearly thirty years we've been together, you know.

So a note.
A note from me.
A note from me to my body;
I know you haven't the foggiest what's going on right now,
'how could I treat you like this, how?'
But I didn't know what pain I was going to put you through
just with a few changes; a simple house move,
a change of location, a new job situation,
and if I'd known - it wouldn't change what I'd do.
So a letter, a memo, a 'please, could you though?'
to you;
we will get through-
you don't need to make me so aware
that this is stress-causing, 'cause I get that, yeah?
We've done this before,
and we'll do this again,
it's a different rhythm
and a different kitchen
but the same dances I do
to the same 80s tunes
that I've always listened
to
so adjust,
and trust,
that it's a process, but get there you must.
And you will.

A note.
A note to me.
A note to me from my body.
So I'm writing back:
thank you for drawing my attention
to you, I know you rarely get a mention,
but it's okay.  I don't know what I'm doing either,
but let's muddle our way through this together.

The Pressure to Move

The pressure to do,
to really, really move
and get on with it
and snap, snap, quick, quick,
no time to waste,
sign it in haste,
because you'd really hate
to leave it too late,
don't sit down and wait!

I feel that too.
It's the gnawing, agitating, niggle of a feeling
that won't leave me alone when I get round to sleeping,
or, rather, struggle to get to that bit
with my heart, pounding,
breathing, catching,
ragged
staggered,
tossed upon the breeze
of airy, fairy
oops-a-daisy;
I can't relax -
this is driving me crazy!

But the thing is,
amongst that panic,
the shrieking of strings
on seventeen violins
and the scent of adrenaline,
there's a Still Voice -
and I have a choice.

I can listen to the amateur dramatics
and the fuzzy sound of static
coming from my mind's attic -
or I can drown out the traffic
of these anxious antics
with a conscious decision not to just panic!

And when I listen
to the wisdom
that when you knock, is never hidden
I find a sense of peace within;
a pattern to the rhythm!

Sometimes it's time to move
you have to up and go
when you get The Call
you hear it loud,
you know that you know that you know.

And just in the same way,
when you need to ride the pace
you'll know with more than intuition
to take your time on the decision
and the anxiousness
of the rush/rush
is not any way to be living.

And by the same token
everything has a season
and I'm not broken
if mine doesn't fit your reason...

Because I follow God,
and the guidance of His Spirit
so no, I'm not letting life go by
I'm relying on my Standby,
and there's an absence of anxiousness
no sudden pirouette of mega-stress,
in the presence of my Advocate.

So thank You, Lord,
for Your counsel,
though it leads others to wonder,
I know I can depend on Your strength and comfort
no matter what pressure I'm under.

29

I thought I'd write a little rhyme
about what it means to be 29,
granted I haven't got there yet,
if we want to be technical about it...
And all I see
is positivity
and countless possibilities
and all the growth that my twenties
have quite kindly afforded me:

I know what I am
and I know what I'm not,
I know what I lack
and I know what I've got,
I know what I want
and I know where I've been,
and the love and the pain and the tears that I've seen,
and the fence, and the dirt and the grass that's as green
as you expect and hope and want it to be.

So if I could go back to 20 year old me
I'd have words of advice for that silly baby
like 'don't take yourself so seriously'
and 'let yourself be just who you want to be'.
But in a way I'm glad I didn't
because I prefer my future hidden -
not that I have a time machine
or anything, but you know what I mean -
although, sorry guys, but SPOILER ALERT
it kinda involves getting burnt
on the BBQ of love
and all that stuff.
But it's all worth it in the end:
this love, this beer and all my friends...

So let me conclude
this little muse
with a little interlude
of what the past few years have enabled me
to do, to see and to achieve.
(A fitting moment to interject,
that the best is yet to come, I bet!)

I made best friends,
loved all the wrong men,
I found love
then lost it again.
I taught the youth of County Durham
then taught the Polish British custom.
I fell in love in the Krakow renek,
the best 6 months, and I'll never forget it -
the crack of my heart, and the weight of the pain,
waving my lover goodbye on a Silesian train.
And the strangers I met on the seat of a plane,
and dancing in the treetops in Australian rain,
and the countless pairs of ridiculous shoes,
and that time I asked McFly to sign my boobs...

I met the vampire from my teenage dream,
and the boy that refused to give up on me,
but ultimately snapped my heart in two,
because sometimes that's what good guys do.
Standing on stage in the Royal Albert Hall,
well, a function room, but I barely care at all,
and becoming obsessed with the man who wrote 'Kiss',
but he was wrong because nothing compares to this:

reflecting on the past 9 years in such good company,
standing firm on the knowledge that God loves me,
being so thankful for every second in His presence,
so precious,
what a present,
that I could never repay,
so all I can say
is thank You
and thank you
for the gift of today,
right now on my almost birthday.

Disco Fever is the New Cabin Fever

Wait all week
for the day off of your dreams
you've been getting through
with the weekend in view
and those songs on repeat
but something's off key
and the record is stuck
because your own company
kicks you right in the gut.

Why do I feel scared
when I spend this time alone?
Not when I'm out and about
just when I'm at home.
My house imprisons me in fear,
encaged when no-one else is here,
yet perfectly able to escape
just no desire to volunteer.

The door is closed
latch is on
but I told you
what you're running from
is what you need exposure to,
just spend time being with you.

It seems her sole ambition
to master drama in the kitchen
appears to calm
and does no harm
so meets no opposition.
Her whimsy is to rally
with some street moves in the galley
shoulder lock and pop
a no stop body drop;
her over-act to Spandau Ballet.
You can almost see disco lights
flashing frenzy every night
portable, set up in haste
because this move's too good to waste.

And in her pure, uncensored state,
she's a lot to take in
but sorta hard to hate
when you're living
with it day in
day out
you find you can't do without
busting a move
to some retro tune,
finding your groove
to guilty auto-tune,
or total lip sync
to eighties synth,
or out of control
air drum to Toto.

And somewhere between
the green
of a golden oldie on karaoke
and the concrete fear of tears
to Tears for Fears
you see the unseen
inside
fly on the wall
of what makes her tick
when she's feeling so small
and you realise you don't mind at all.

So anytime you hear that doubt
battering against the bars, screaming to get out,
don't give in and believe the lies
the enemy
tries to disguise
and instead believe the truth
of what God tells you
about who you are
and what He's done for you.
No fear can compete
with Love so complete; a perfect sound that surrounds,
a grace that abounds
so freely that I've found
I'm compelled to move my feet
and take my dancing to the streets.

The Problem you Discover when you Invest in a Plumber

A dripping tap
nails down a blackboard
a car alarm that won't shut up
probably your old ford.

The feel of cotton wool,
or the scratchy surface of a fabric bag
that weird voice you put on,
and insults you fire just to make me mad.

But when the tap is fixed
the annoying thing is
that you kinda miss
the sound in the sink when the water drops in.

Everything changes,
and I'm down with that,
but it feels the strangest
now we're not back to back.
And you have someone else
who's got yours
and that's awesome
but weirdly different from before.

I guess the point is,
I got kinda attached
to the puppy I trained
but then had to give back.

Only that's not right -
because I'm pretty sure you trained me,
but never mind, whatever,
you know what I mean.

So maybe I just need to say thank you,
because I wanted to show,
that I blame you in part for the things that I know.
I've learnt not to judge,
assume,
or expect the worst,
and that when it comes to shotgun,
chocolate pastries come first.

I know, this is proper soft,
I'm maybe going daft?
I can't help it sometimes
and I'm sorry for that
(but not so sorry that a full apology
is needed, 'cause you hate them,
especially from me!)

Okay, that's enough of this,
but just before you go,
where did you learn to be the most annoying person I know?