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Recorded: November 18th, Adelaide, South Australia.

The Poet's Lullaby.

Who sings the poet to sleep,

when the words don't stop dancing,

amongst a mind too soft for the pillow,

amongst a mind

cut too sharp

that couldn't

wouldn't

lay flat amongst the sheets of the navy sky.

There must be a lullaby for the poet's mind,

a bench to sit on behind closed eyelids,

to let dreams play,

unfurling and                                    recoiling,

nightmaring,

tip-    toeing

wandering the liminal space

between the subconscious mind and the future heart.

Can the poet fall asleep

tasting their own medicine

listening to the music they composed

toiling on the words that carved their foundations.

a lullaby surely soothes the soul of the cracked heart

pouring balm into the waterways

that broke free,

hoping to find love in other places

when the world stopped singing

Yet the poet,

malnourished by a world lacking feeling

starving for something real

seeks out the silence that follows a whisper

aching for a desert

desiring one instant

for time to freeze.

Give the poet nothing,

deprive them of everything

and only then will you hear,

the sweetest lullaby

beacuse it was deprivation,

that put the poet to sleep.

A world of stimulation,

killed the poet.

and

bled them dry,

of every

single

word.

Recorded:  Tuesday 12th of November, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

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Poem:

Only my friends know the colour

of sunrise

Blush

An asymmetry

Blush

My cheeks spoke in italics

The more they spoke

They don’t speak like this often,

We don’t know the answers to.

Recorded:  Sunday November 2nd of September, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

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Poem by Josh Lynott

You're obsessed with the wrongs things.

You're obsessed with the wrong things.

You're obsessed with what they want you to be.

You're obssesed with the marketing,

of who you could be,

of what could you be,

of the way you could be.

But You're none of these things.

You don't run like that.

You don't dress like that.

You don't talk like that.

You don't even smile, like that.

I wish you were honest,

an obsessed with something true.

Something real.

Because if you were.

Obsession wouldn't like like this.

Obsession doesn't care what people think

Obsessions knows craft,

not opinions.

Recorded:  Thursday 16th of October, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

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Recorded: 16th of October

Location: At The Above, Melbourne, Australia
Guest: Dave Clark @spacebetween_ @attheabove

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

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Poem / Quote from Dave: 

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

Today's Guest: Maurica Diaz Arellano Curts

You can find Mau here ➡️

https://www.instagram.com/maudac/

https://www.instagram.com/airelibre.earth/

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Today's poem was from page 20 of my book "A Note to the Runners.

Co-hosted with Akash Patel from the Under Pressure podcast.

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Poem: Brain Volume

Turn the volume in my brain down,

static crumbles against the pillow,

glasses cracking, tipping, knocking

my hands try to communicate to my brain,

errors, swirling, spinning wheel of fatigue

months and months tuned into the same channel

direction north star,

direction all in

if you were to tip it all out,

would you be happy with what you find in the pile

I think so

so now, here is my brain

slow to move, slow to process

missing questions and important statements

just as the sky misses the lightning,

striking to make a point

striking to be heard

short sharp details on a black canvas

instead the cloud wraps around my brain

not black, not white, not grey either

my head is in the clouds now,

not searching for turbulence

just looking for the remote

to turn down the volume

on the wind,

on the rain

on the swirling

on the thoughts.

Listen to our previous chat here: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/josh-lynott-project/episodes/021-A-deep-dive-into-performing-under-pressure-with-Akash-Patel-e2a0r7h

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Guest: Matt Higgins.

Energy Exchange // Josh Lynott

I crave the exchange of energy

to move past with momentum,

as you fall off, fall away

running alone, kilometre after kilometre

no body in sight, nobody.

Without knowing, you volunteer yourself

your position,

your energy

you hold it out for me

to take,

to work with

it's the only thing that will keep me going

when every part of my body is screaming

As I move past,

the thread you were holding onto thins,

weakens, and stretches the very fibres of your being.

Perhaps I may light a fire within you,

but now it has to burn

twice as hot as the one within me.

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Poem: "Forgetting and Knowing"

Is there a difference between forgetting and knowing,

you must know you forgot,

or the thought would never be lost.

We layer tile after tile

building a roof on our mind,

protecting it from the elements,

and the harshness of memories that weather us like turbulent storms.

Keeping us from the light on a sunny day,

sheltering us from chaos when the winds turn.

I don't think we forget,

because we always know,

somewhere within

what we truly feel.

Yet... we don't

let it breathe,

let it live

let it expand.

so

we put tiles on our mind

and pretend not to know

and call it

'forgotten'.

We don't forget,

we simply protect ourselves from knowing,

from feeling,

pretending to be stone,

instead of knowing

the miracle of flowering

and the beautiful

act it is to knowingly live in seasons.

Recorded: Monday 16th of September

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

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Poem:

You put yourself in a corner,

so dark that no-one could see you.

So far away,

no one could reach you.

You ran there, willingly.

Without a plan,

with no preparation,

for what was on the other side.

Someone was waiting for you,

unrecognisable,

mask off,

stripped to the core.

I worry about the places you run to,

because you're scared,

because you're hurt,

because you're not willing to stand still.

And if there were no secrets,

would you run to these places?

there is somewhere brighter,

someone lighter,

I think you might like to meet.

But if you don't go,

may I ask you take a torch?