poem – Page 4 – mil's page

Two women

Poem 1:

the day i was born

not on wings
because that's a different word 
and never simple
because that wasn't to be my fate
but to my mother for sure
in a place distant from the shores 
which my soul already knew about 
and deep in the shires 
of an oxford old and sometimes wise
and then again sometimes not 
but always where i was begotten
even where more likely forgotten 
than remembered 

and although they say your birthday's yours
it ain't as far as the memory's concerned 
because way-back-then 
is much too far 
for one's adult ken to ever recall 
whether real or not 
whether unknown or set
in the stone of societal acknowledgement 
because what's yours indivisibly 
is not yours to reproduce 
and so the only thing you have to go on
is the deepest love however expressed
of the one person who'll always know

and so i reckon this thing 
and it's this thing i now wonder 
if for the rest of our lives 
it's something we strive for 
and then again
something we fail generally to achieve at all
being the return in some way 
to the womb of that woman 
who made us the man we now see 
and being something 
that some see as a beautiful attempt 
whilst others much more coarse 
choose to resist all impulses to accept 

and if i am right about this matter of mothers 
and how we must choose 
between either embracing with equal love 
or ejecting brutally from further contact 
the reality of their power 
so compassionately ceded 
and yet also seeded 
absolutely generously and fine 
to the children we grow into 
and the adults of much later ...
for it's then when we realise the truth must become us
NEVER to eject anything brutally 
in respect of the women 

who bring us ALL into a world 
we should learn to treasure much more freely 
than we have been able to do until now
because oh -- how wow! -- 
if we follow another path from this minute on
the world in so many ways
shall right itself 
like burdened vessel
no longer slumping like sad human soul
balled out by cruel words 
and embattled by selfish business models
whose only aim
is to maim our hearts 

so let's end on a high note
being that one of birth 
and motherly strengths
and the things we know 
and the things we still don't 
about how the power that is and the power that won't 
can become the power that will and the power that shall
when people like me
being humans and men 
learn to pay attention 
to the wisdoms of those 
who know much more about THAT then:
when each of us came first into this world

Poem 2:

And so what follows is the poem which forms the second part of this pair. And yet another description of a powerful woman: but powerful out of measure and enquiry and love and reality, not out of an ambition where skies might acquire castles of siege-like mentalities …

11 lines of love, truly kinder

No, I'm not brave at all
But I find courage when I need to
Except in this matter 
Of expressing to the person 
I'd most give up my life for 
The reasons why that life would be worth giving up

So once again, in lines of black and white
No greys around
And no uncertainty in sight 
Here are the wherefores of my love for you:
The wherefores I find myself
Unable to ever rue

Because since we met
It's always been you 
And since we were separated 
That second time of awful pain 
And since all those words 
That indicated absolutely no more 

And no more forever 
And no more for a day
And no more for a minute 
And no chance to say 
Even so for my soul 
It's always been you 

Even so for my heart
My art has flourished broad 
And grown like an unseemly soul
Engaged not by ring
But blocked with stony stall
As if the marketplace 

Had to be my funeral pall
And yet all this time
In rhymes which I wrote I conserved my hope
That I was mistaken 
When I considered the chance 
You were my breaking-point

Instead of my making-point:
That fabulous moment in every lucky man's life
When he finds not a wife 
Or chattel to own
But rather a spirit who must liberate and free 
As everyone knows every woman must be

And so then no further 
May I avoid the subject of these verses
Because for many a long time 
The rehearsals have been in vain
And you can't say in any way 
(Not even myself in truth may I claim)

That more time is needed
In order that I clarify properly my view
About the person of beauty and grace 
You'll always be for me:
That's all it is, my dearest friend
If friend is the word I have a right to now use

Because really deep down and really profound 
All I now wish for is this:
That your indivisible rights 
To resist further furrows and fearful frowns 
Become the proudest signs 
Of your liberties unbound

And as in all good films, the name is under the actor it isn’t, because otherwise we’d be fighting not to be second in everything … 🙃

aside

some reflections on “the fallen warriors of ALL our souls”

“the fallen warriors of ALL our souls” — a poem by mil williams

it's the apollo moonshot
it's the manhattan project
and we have to accept we might, yer know ...
but we must try even so:
we can be astronauts of the mind 
for this is where i want to go 

this is about john forbes nash jr 
and what he could sense 
and why they put him away 
because he couldn't quite evidence his tense that day

and it's what i can sense too
and it's what i sensed in 2002 onwards
and it's why the british and others put me away
but not because i couldn't evidence 
what i sensed then or did say 
no no no 
not at all 
rather, i mean, because they didn't want
to let me try 
and evidence right and properly 

would i be prepared now to die in the attempt?
i'll try not to 
because i want to come back and evidence it full
in order to bear witness 
to what john forbes nash jr saw in his time
but couldn't prove dear people i say
couldn't prove rightly at all them days
 
and what i saw from 2002 onwards
and wasn't allowed by the british
and others 
to share with anyone
and anything  
and after 
means i know also
what he couldn't share in his day
with the rest of the people he met and did pray 
meaning i know too well 
how his best never did find a path 
where to shine fine was allowed its trace 
outside any kind of wrath 

another dimension: one of the mind 
one some of us can access 
simply via our brains 
sometimes poorly so poorly 
that the authorities around us 
easily incarcerate us 
for what we say we see 
and what we claim to be 
and sometimes so well they may choose to dispose of us too
as if a piece of scrap paper 
so scraggy, torn and weary 
and nothing more than tatty as hell
and rattier than any role 

well now it's going to be
that apollo moonshot revisited
and a new manhattan project too
as we venture forth
as astronauts of the mind for sure
and we may die in the attempt it's true
but by golly we'll surely try not to
because this time we want to evidence it all
for the memory of the fallen warriors of ALL our souls
who died whilst being in the right 
and had their light extinguished
by the most trite of all our hearts 
where everything was lost 
to costs with no value at all at all

and time it is
as time it was 
to write the wrongs
and read everyone's rights

for nothing is now to stay the same 
and whilst days of yore
brought promises of outcome
and even of judgments deeply felt
the scores we scratch 
on sticks of loud
hollow sound
will only now keep metronomic time 
if we wish them to rhyme in this way 
because life is precious
and starting again
and time it was 
and time it's become 

for the moonshot again 
and the project 
of stranger rains 
and sometimes it's going to hurt real bad
and sometimes we'll cry as never before: 
for sure it will my dears be sad
and maybe seem to be this bad 
but if we pursue 
with a goodwill of the best 
the rest will show us fine
just one thing of grand
and so what it is
and what it will be
is to stand and act out of true charity

now some reflections on the above …

what if all my projects and ideas for #secrecypositive and related … what if they have been attempts — maybe poor, but attempts all the same — to understand real experiences i’ve had and sensed before and since i was unduly incarcerated by the uk for having them and imperfectly expressing them in 2002 onwards?

what if some of us — those of us, for example, who have been, are and will continue to be accused NEVER diagnosed of mental ill-health at some point in our lives — are actually in some fumbling, stumbling way privileged persons able to access some other ways of being?

and what if when they medicate us, we’re having the shutters and drawbridges brought down almost violently on something which could otherwise have been utterly beautiful and radically life-regenerating?

for us all … i mean … what if?

• complexifylab.com

Uncategorized

“love’s TRUE hug”

a poem of love … for you

today is the time
for a rhyme
that changes everything 

now is the moment 
for a life
that remainders nothing 

no longer a book
struck off a list 
or a shelf 

empty of victories 
and showing 
only the failures of one

or two
people who could have been
once they'd seen 

each other and seen
the fire
in each other's eyes 

as cool hands 
of elegant line
held the arm of the man 

who fell utterly 
in the deepest of loves
that very moment 

on the intake of breath 
and more and more still ...
and yet just this 

was all he could remember
for a while after that night 
when her ciggie did burn right 

like the eyes 
they DID have for each other 
despite everything 

everyone said 
and maybe the two of them 
sometimes felt 

they ought to feel this too:
but profoundly inside 
the souls and hearts of each one

the truth never abandoned 
that which others called random 
and we knew from the start

were calls from the heart
of two lovers of the best 
who now just need to make 

the nest of love 
they deserved all along 
because nothing is stronger

than the treasurable reality 
of a woman SO fine 
and a man who signs away

everything gladly as glad can be

out of sheer admiration 
and respect 
and compassion 

and the fiercest of passions 
and the full recognition 
that nothing at all

happened better in his place 
and space 
on this rock 

as time tick-tocked
to what looked once upon a time 
like the end of a line 

and now just looks like 
the beginning of it all 
where nothing is further 

from their minds and lips 
than the nightly kiss 
and the morning trust

as breakfast arrives
in the sunshine 
of #stockholm's light 

as if slowly enters slinkily
like tongue to gentle tongue 
amongst the edges of the blinds 

which show us everything now 
and really how they do 
and really how: 

and how we ever never knew 
and then how too
when we rued the separation 

we couldn't even then
embrace the sensation 
that something needed doing 

before it needed doing:
because here yes it's true 
that the vintage we often aspire to

may need the years on occasions 
that waiting so long for the hug 
of true love 

makes the moment we do 
all that much more you
my embraceable you 

whom i met that evening in #dublin 
and now never want to let go
because you and me together 

are absolutely 
just so:
a love of delicate proportions 

where the hand and lace 
and sideways glance and sips 
and plates of good food 

sense the touches 
stealthy and covert for sure 
of feet and skin found underneath 

as playing with appearances 
only we know of
and see 

lead me to just one conclusion:
you and i were made to fly
and today's the day we do ...

aside, definition

“the creativity of sublimation: some reflections” — a #poem by mil williams

just so it's clearer 
in my day-to-day
i'm now 
interested only 
in affection not true love 

whilst meantime in my work 
i look for love
as well as respect:
suddenly it's the way of it 
after 

a lifetime of hatred 
in the matter
that is private
and the horror 
that is this thing 

we call 
casually 
relationship
when in fact 
it's more a luxury yacht

where money
is the 
exclusive tool
to measure 
if i am worth  

anything at all
to you
in this deep dark
chasm and
abyss that is all that

which you and i did miss ...

yet conversely and
surprisingly
in the 
fields 
and meadows 

of deep
thought 
and intuition
the growing recognition 
of those 

who know exactly 
and simply 
what i've been   
through these decades
means that curiously

love is to be found
not in springs 
of creaking bed
in early mornings 
of terrible dread

but rather 
during the daytime smile 
and sideways glance 
of colleague 
and teacher 

because whilst ALL my life 
my women
refused to recognise 
in me
any worth to be proud of 

that is ... all my life 
this happened
i insist
and persist 
in insisting ... yes i do

lately i sense 
not only 
for the obvious pecuniary gain 
but maybe
truly 

because
at LEAST 
the thinkers 
i begin to know 
out there 

see me
at LAST
as human 
and worthy 
and even a kindly man

and deserving 
at ONCE 
of being 
not trampled on
but valued 

as something 
more than a diagnosis 
of a security cruel 
and a hallucinatory 
THEM

for sure 
much much more 
than i 
have 
ever seemed  

in all my dreams 
rejected as i was
by every mouth
i wished 
to deeply kiss

and so i NEVER 
once thought 
my saving graces
would not be 
romances 

as wished for 
and desired so long
and experienced 
so badly 
and hurting so 

GODDAMN wrong 
but that instead 
my real saviours 
would be cells of grey 
and small 

that occupied kindly 
other parts of my body
because born of reality 
not the fakery 
of younger hearts 

who know mostly 
how to damage 
a peer 
as if a pier 
battered in terrible storm

because this is it 
and that was all
and there you go 
and here we know 
that human salvation 

really does not lie
in a daily bed of lace 
and stuff like that
but much much more 
in a thought and hug

and an embrace of an idea 

without letting go
for years and years 
and then tying them all up
and together
and tight 

and then loosely too
as if that kiss 
i mentioned before 
which i've never had 
all my time on this rock

to say goodnight 
and to say hello
and to say why not
and never to bellow 
but just ... to whisper

"i love you"

and so still i wonder 
if my life 
could've been other 
than one of hermitage 
and then again if it had 

whether i'd now be achieving
half as much as i might 
and as almost certainly 
i'll now 
be able to cite  

for it was not the muse 
who enabled 
my love of life
but the sublimation 
that still causes me 

so much strife ... 

and so it's 
in the absence
of daily kindness
that has been 
my existence 

since forever and all 
we see 
our capability grow 
to better view 
and see the #whirled 

fully unfurl as it ought

as it must be seen
and as it must become 
perhaps as song 
and perhaps one day
no wrong either not at all 

and then its essence 
too true it is
it was never me and you 
but the experience 
of precisely this:

NOT getting 
what you want 
but instead
getting 
exactly

what you NEED

for this is the seed
of human creativity
being the felicitous 
discovery 
of things ... we've never known

aside

in some way all of us too

following on from my previous post today, a reflection or two which i want to represent my future … and if you agree, our future … and if you all agree, all our futures …

realising why 
you couldn't be you
makes it time 
to start anew
and knowing the crime 
committed by them
shouldn't make them not you at all
because the struggle to fight right 
escapes us in the night 
where the dark barks back at us 
instead of harks to deeper lives
and so one day it's true 
even when lifetimes are lost 
the cost of not showing 
we accept we are the same
produces the insanity 
that rules our worlds right now

so all i can suggest 
is that forgiveness does entrust
the forgiver with perhaps 
the only power existent on this earth 
where in its exerting 
we cannot do ill
for nothing comes close 
to the bitter pill 
of reliving over and over 
the alternative state of pain and stuff 

i turn a page then
not if you do too
but with you if you care to also 
also if you do
and so my conditions
are now nowhere found
for i've lived my life 
and this was how 
and all i want for me at least 
is to know right now that love exists