Humanity was tribal for many an age

Talks of travel met with confusion and rage

There's danger out there, beyond that wall

Even talking to neighbours could be our downfall

Every tribe for itself. Every culture, constrained

Independent people were quashed and contained

Information didn't spread, new relations weren't sewn

All anyone wanted was to be left alone

And then we began to push boundaries and explore

Through triumph and empire, humanity wanted more

Behind the warriors were those with notions more noble

Slowly, the earth became global

A world formed where we could speak across borders

Passage less risky, we formed a world order

Art could now be witnessed from many times and places

Smiles were shared between different types of faces

We are one tribe, even if we're of different factions

So, my friend, don't be so resistant in reaction

To those who think sharing cultures is a crime

Just think of them as a few (hundred) years out of time.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/tribal.html

make me run
motivate me
give me motive
and i will fly
i can't just go
without reason
i need something
help me
else i will be static
never move
i want to see
the world
i'm asking politely
i would beg
but i need something
or someone
to run for

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/give-me-reason.html

I've been trying to let myself be more vulnerable recently, but honestly, it's kind of hard

All my life I've lived so far has taught me not to show my cards

That the world is out to get me, so I'd better watch my back

And that anyone not constantly on defence is vulnerable to attack

Easier by far not to be involved, better never to begin anything

Throw up every barrier and don't you dare. Let. Anyone. In.

Yes it can be draining. But we all manage it somehow.

And after years and years of training, I'm good at it by now.

This fort has become my home, a habit of its own

So I sit within relaxed, guarded, and alone.

And I don't want to be anymore

And I don't know what will happen when I open up my doors

And I'm sorry for when I instinctively try to shut in in your face

Please. Please try again. Ignore that I have to brace.

I just didn't realise how defensive I'd become.

Wondering why that deep friendship wouldn't come

Until realising that anyone who looked in my direction

Simply saw a person with layer after layer of protection

So, I'm going to try

It'll be tough. I may question why.

If I let people in, sacrifices will have to be made.

I've seen many people hurt by others. And scars are a tricky trade.

Being vulnerable isn't enough. I know that in my heart.

But hey. I'm trying. And that's a start.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/vulnerable.html

Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the day I will rest.

But tomorrow I agreed work to be done, and it has to be my best.

And there's this other favour, and that one too.

I don't think the tomorrow's rest will likely come true.

Maybe in a week? I'll say no to things people suggest.

I'll schedule one day in when I can truly rest.

Hold on though. I have this weekly commitment early each day.

And that stuff in a month that I just can't delay.

Next year, I'll be a whole different me.

Maybe I'll stop my job and work and degree.

And in that year, I'll make time to do nothing at all.

Because otherwise I know I'll just hit a wall.

When I am dead, maybe I shall lay still in my grave.

Or maybe I'll still twist and turn and work and slave.

With the knowledge of one more thing I should do.

With a promise of rest held when eternity is due.

True rest is needed, and not just doing a different task.

The ability to stop. Breath. To collect yourself at last.

We all need that time. A break from the day to day.

And if I can't promise myself tomorrow's rest, then I shall rest today.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/09/rest.html

"Evil may so shape events that Caesar will occupy a place and Christ a cross, but that same Christ will rise up and split history into Ad and BC, so that even the life of Caesar must be dated by his name. Yes, 'the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice'" - Martin Luther King Jr

***

It is a famous quote. You may have heard it before.

It may have confused you and given you pause,

So here I present it in a more full clause,

To help you appreciate just what this quote may be for.

In my eyes it is in nature spiritual

The physical world may not follow the same

It does not say the ruthless will be forgotten

We remember both Christ's and Caesar's names

It does not say that we don't need to try

That fate will cast evil, eventually, with shame

It talks of God's plan, how we struggle to see it

But his will be the glory, and his will be the fame

It may not serve as much comfort to persecuted nations

Nor give the persecutors all that much hesitation

Since, I believe, this quote is spiritual in its intentions

So it may just give worshipers one notion of celebration

That faith is worthwhile, in the eyes of the believer

And that which is belongs to him, shall be rendered onto Caesar

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-arc-of-moral-universe.html

Do you fight the rain, or embrace it?
Do you back down or do you face it?
The rain hits hard, no one denies that
Yet it's also bearable, you must realise that
It may be unpleasant, or better from afar
Sounds better on the windows or roof of a car
But what if you know you'll have to walk in rain?
Do you live your life inside in full restrain?
Do you go outside, but only reluctantly
Protect what you can, shield your body lovingly
Or do you go out with open arms
No shield from rain, no shield from harm
The rain will pass. It's not that bad.
Your body adapts. Do not be sad.
Sometime you need to dive in, and let your mind be open.
You don't chose life's conditions, just how you approach them.***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/rain.html

I can't even remember her face any more

I stared into her eyes for such a long time

What colour were they? Hazy.

Same as her hands, I so often held in mine

She was kind to me, I remember that

Especially when we left, tried to leave me with no pain

And with it she took nearly everything.

Memories. Seized along with her name.

She was greater than me, in a way I could never know

She was beautiful. Stunning. Someone I could never find.

I've tried looking, but there was no clues. Nothing.

There was only one thing she left behind.

The one thing she couldn't remove. She probably didn't have a choice.

She who one I loved.

She who erased everything.

She who left me alone.

She I can't recall.

I have but one final memory of it all.

That she had the most lovely voice.

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/what-she-left-behind.html

The Compass

The compass was a gift from God

But the needle refused to stay still

I'd walk three miles through deepest bog

Trying to follow its will

Today is a day we go North!

Needle held a steady line

Next day was East. I went forth

Then it showed South for a time

Occasionally, I would stop

Watch my compass circle round

Dive and dance and spin and drop

Sometimes point at the ground

While stationary I would panic

"I'm not going where I'm supposed to be"

While walking I'd grow manic

Following the whims of a force I could not see

I know not where I'm being led

I will walk through wind sun and shade

Following the smallest crumbs of bread

To feel that some progress has been made

***

The Instructor

The instructor, they took my hand

Adjusted the grip on my waist

Pushed my feet out slightly

Gave three instructions to my face

I had plenty of questions

But knew I was not allowed to ask

It was my job to learn

This oh-so-difficult task

The instructor was powerful

But gentle in their touch

I followed where they led

And did not question. Much.

Each time I tried, the same reply

Was whispered in my ear

Do not forget, my dear

I am the instructor here

In awe, I fell silent

Until another question would arise

This happened time and time again

Until, to my surprise

I finally lost myself in the dance. And then, for just a little while

We danced together as a pair, and I saw the instructor smile

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-compass-and-instructor.html

One reason people don't understand music, poetry, dancing or art
Is we are taught to analyse it at school
You need to fall in love, let it fill your heart
Let it make you act a total fool
You must learn each step, remember each note
Break down each and every line
And never feel the rhythm inside your throat
Never live inside the rhyme
You must say to that world of cynicism and fear
I don't know why, but I like this thing
Yes, this thing. This one right here.
It fills my mind, makes me want to sing
Don't be afraid, or embarrassed or scared
Let it fill you to your core
All art is flawed. All things are impaired.
Don't let that stop you wanting more
But you must learn to love, complete and true
Then, and only then
Will you want to break it down like school taught you too
You will want to break it down, understand how
This song you heard or drawing you found
Opened you up more than you'd ever normally allow
With just a brushstroke, or word, or sound
Study has it's place. But it must not come first.
Find that which means something to you
Then break it down, if you have the thirst
But let yourself love it through and through

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/loving-art.html

The sun is not for you, young Icarus

You will burn your wings trying to reach so tall

Let me burn my wings then

So that in learning how to rise, I will know what it is to fall

Just as I know it is better to have learned to dream

Than never to have flown at all

Icarus, The fall will be great

You will never return to the sky

Would it be better not to leave the ground?

Should I also make sure I don't jump too high?

To be human is to fail

And what could be more human than one last great goodbye

You must know restraint boy

The world will learn lessons from how you fly

What lessons do they expect?

What marvels they may see

Not one who has clipped wings

But one who soars above the sea

Your pride will be your downfall

In both ways, you end alone

But I will end up alone in the heavens either side

My tale is not of caution

The tale of Icarus is not of pride

Just that it is possible to fail

For those that dare to touch the sky

***

https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/07/young-icarus.html