True Art. Is


True Art. Is.


Being naked among the brash,

Open to waves of criticism and appreciation.

Vulnerability; the truth between the fear, the honesty above the lies.

Laying bare that which some may find unpalatable.

This is okay.


For you were made to break the mold.

To fashion your own sense of self, and define what your dignity is.

Between layers of misunderstanding you will rise to find your tribe.

Let not your dissenters break down your resolve.

Rise high above the naysayers and fly true towards your goals.

Be brave, be kind, and beware.


At all times protect yourself and who you are, what you need.

For there are those who will never understand you, do not let this stop you.

As long as you have your own back, nothing else matters.

No one has to live with you but you.

Follow your art, your soul, your purpose, your VISION.


For it is yours, for it is you.




The duel of duality


Lager’s feet dangled over the edge, high above the city resting on her favourite perch, a rocky outcrop jutting from the mountainside. It was her preferred spot along this ledge, its scattered, multi-coloured, earth-toned rocks – a truism of life’s many flavours and moments, giving  her an uninterrupted view of the lights of the city. Some blinking, others solid.

A God-like vantage point of what she considers an unending rat-race of mindless goings on. A chance to be untethered and away from the current of monotony.

Her shoulders  rose as her breath drew deeply, releasing through her nostril. An exhausted sigh of purgatory.

What to do, what to do? Her mind keeps repeating this phrase, an endless loop.

This is so fucked up, everything is gone, changed, blow apart.

But to be fair, everything had been unravelling for a while now, she knew this was coming, deep down. The voice..

Her voice?

Her wiser self, always reprimanding. A constant reminder of what her true thoughts are. The reality; blinded by her own stubborn reluctance to preconceived  ideas that were unsavoury, but which would help in the long run.

Bitch .

That was her Bitch Self, the one that’s always at the forefront of her mind. Doubting her every move, her very existence.

If she thought about it, her mind was made of two compartments, the good and the bad voices. Doubt and belief, fear and reality.

The Bitch Voice states in that intoxicating self-contained feminine bass, you should have prepared yourself earlier, been strong in your self-defence. But no, your loyalty and fear has once again gotten you stuck in a situation you now need to run from and yet can’t see a way to extricate yourself. Idiot.

‘Who you calling an idiot? You are me’ Lager’s voice escapes her lips, unbidden, whipped away by the winds that are so erratic up here, this high on the mountain.

‘Great, now you’re talking to yourself. You’ve really pushed it so far and so hard that you’re talking to yourself at the top of a mountain, hanging over the lip?! If anyone saw you, they’d either call emergency services or alter their path to a wide circle away from the crazy lady dangling off the cliff.’

She silently chastises herself, digging her fingernails into the grains of dirt beneath her hands, feeling the warmth of the earth.

‘Who fucking cares, nothing matters anymore’. She says out loud with such derision, selecting a jagged chip of rock from the dust and throwing it over the void.

Now now, you know that’s not true. Everything matters. This is not the end, you’re just scared. Ms Wise Self pipes up. You have the strength, and you have five lifetimes of experience crammed into your young body and mind. Just because you’re tired, does not mean there is no fight left in you. You’re a cauldron of strength, tap into it.

Lager, as always, doubted the words of her Wiser Self . She just made it sound too easy. How can anything be easy when it’s all so fucked up! She wondered in an offhand way whether if she decided to plunge off this peak, would the Wise Self just transfer to someone else? Is it transient or stuck to her body? Poor thing. She felt suddenly sorry for it, attached to her. If it actually was.

In so many ways things have stayed the same and this was why it was all unravelling. In life you can’t stay still or you’ll be steamrolled. All her life Lager had been screaming into the void, thinking her words would penetrate somewhere, someone. But it was just a void, a black sucking hole of nothing that gleefully crumpled her words into dust and spat it out the other side of another thing of nothing.

What to do, what to do. A running loop.

‘Fuck it’. She says as she gets to her haunches to stand. Suddenly those loose pebbles, the figurative truism of life, slip beneath her feet causing her to stumble forward, over the ledge and down into the abyss. A scream. Is that me? Echoes frantically from her lips to the rock wall, back and forth as she falls. Legs strangely unmoving, arms outstretched like a baby’s , hoping to be picked up by a caring parent. Then bam, all breath and thoughts of reason explode from her lungs and brain. A numbness that seemed to always be there but only now seems prevalent, pervades her body from tip to toe. Her eyes, the only working object on her body, staring dazed at her favourite perch, earth-toned chips of rock shower her body in a spray of final defeat.

Well, you’re alive at least. Her Wise Self whispers. But wait, that was her own voice.

‘Ah’. Lager grunts to herself in realisation. It took a great fall from her safe place to see that it wasn’t safe at all. A descent into free fall, unchallenged and terrifying, that finally melded her Wise Self into her own consciousness. ‘Well shit. Looks like I can stand the fall after all. If it takes more than that to kill me.’


*Yet again my Peach edits my work to perfection xxx

Fear is Free



Starting over again:

The fear of the unknown, tempered time and again by a certainty of uncertainty. Tried and true becomes outdated, as if you pegged your life to a clothesline years ago. Left the control of your life swinging in the breeze, the story of your life hung out in the elements. Your personal story like so much cloth fading in the sun, snapping in the gale and yet still holding on.

Juggling numberless balls in the air without a thought, such is life. But when reality shines its stark light on your situation, that’s when those balls are lit up before your eyes. Suddenly the realisation of ‘Oh my God, how do I manage this, every day?!’ flashes blindingly, burning into your exhausted eyes.

But you should know, these balls are nothing new, just that circumstances have changed. Your comfort is now threatened, but was it so comfortable? And now you see, the comfort was not comfort but a repetition of discomfort. An enemy, but a familiar enemy. One you could maintain with programmed dissociation.

You are uncertain, nervous. Doubting your ability that has for so long been the automatic norm, without conscious thought. And now you’re scared?!

Gather those nerves, set your mind to the path. For you can do this, you’ve BEEN doing this.

Do not let that fearful whisper inside your mind, feeding your doubt, decimating knowledge of your worth, your tenacity, your Self.

Just go for it, for while you never know, you know what you know. I, we can do it.

Learn and learn, as you’ve learned before. Do as you do and grow with the times.




Blind by choice; or

When you turn your eyes and wander,

It makes me that much wiser.

To your pain and to your cowardice,

To my burden, toes tipping the precipice.

You leave unto your hole,

Into a world all of your own.

To the offspring that shore you up,

Those made of tougher stuff.

Lest not I become past that point,

For certainly I hold anger.

What does one do when there is no way,

To think, to feel, to do, to say.


Ancient Born

I should tell you a little piece about me, I suppose.

I was born amongst wild flowers and poison ivy, beneath an oak tree entombed by strangler vines. Overlooking a vibrant scene of undulating hills, quietly flowing in depth and height.

Light swaying back and forth through the canopy high above, as the breeze dictated. Reflecting upon the sheen of my newly pink skin, swinging from skin to eye.

Shot forth upon a bed of dewy moss, I came into this world. Quiet as a mouse, eyes large and round, black as night and deep as the earth. Just staring.

For I knew what was to be; this life before me.

Not many could tell you; for it takes someone special to be so near. But when the sunlight catches my eyes, you can see the colours of my mind. Various shades of brown and black, always dark yet sparkling with glorious depth.

Can you see it, my eyes? For I can see yours.


Laugh with me

Sitting on the sparse-grassed slope,

Staring at my dinted car.

How she’s been abused like me.

One of a kind, though a different model.

Sitting behind hours of penetration,

By a Doctor of the souls.

Hell can seem a fickle thing,

I laugh in its face.

Come live with me for a day, Satan

You poor thing.

You’d beg to go back and put up your feet.

No one knows, but I’ll let you see.


Do you know


What do I want, an open field

What do I need, a flowing stream.

How do I fertilise the greenest pastures, that

Feed my basic needs.

What is it that would seem enough?

Both a comfort and yet a thrill.

Flying, falling, soaring and stalling,

At once moving, yet laying still.

Do you know how deep my ravine is?

How strong my current flows.

Do you see the heights I can fly to?

Do you know, do you know.