Friday, April 09, 2010

De genius without

The inspiration for this came partially from a TED talk which I'd encourage you to watch before reading:

De genius without

and paranoia rears its head
and lays it on the comfy bed
the sounds of silence scream and whine,
the experience was all mine.

The genius with me, writing down 
the words bombarding me, which begin to frown 
I did it all! He says, you see,
it wasn't you, it was only me! 
The writer then, put the pen down
and turned to the genius, who began to frown 
So tell me this, who brought the path?
I took the turns, and faced the wrath! 
Creativity is a form of life
which doesn't take this kind of strife.
The writer and the genius
without each other are not quite us.

Monday, February 08, 2010

Pushing of De Tao

So I'm sitting on the plane, thinking about what a great time I had over the weekend in Hyderabad and decide to write something. Life came to mind, so I thought I may as well write about that.

While I was writing, I was listening to music on shuffle and ironically a song I haven't heard in a while played. Ironically, because it's called 'Wasted years', so the pome sounds a little sad at times, but ends on a positive note.

I think I've realised I need to push now, but despite spending most of the last 15 years attempting to embrace change, it still psyches the hell out of me.

This 'Pome' is my way of explaining to myself that second chances exist. There is always hope, but planning in life is what I've missed doing in my endless quest to live in the De. I now plan to be the oldest kid alive :-)

For DD & Jo

My eyes are open.
I am awake.
I thank you both
for the gentle shake.

Pushing Tao
The brook flowed on
He went with the flow
The rush of life
The best way to go

His life was full
His vision strong
The way it flowed
His time would be long

In his state of bliss
He flowed with Tao
Laugh lines on his face
Ran over his brow

The world was youth
Those lines set in
Laughter and joy
Friend and kin

The stream flowed on
Cutting paths through time
Life was the joy
Of song and of rhyme

Childhood came
With the people less grown
The time was ripe
He yearned for his own

The forks in the stream
He never noticed
They must have existed
But they were all missed

The river flowed on
Cutting ox bow lakes
Comprehension crept in...
He'd made his mistakes.

The flow of the river
Began to slow down
The delta was nigh
He longed to see ground

He had no choice
And into the ocean was thrust
A new beginning
This time Tao will be pushed.