faith


Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Faith is an invisible force
which you cannot see or hear
or touch or taste or smell

Yet the essence of all we
believe cannot exist without faith

You have to have faith to believe
the sun will rise tomorrow and you
will be around to draw another breath

You have to have faith to believe
when you take a step you won’t
suddenly forget how to walk

You have to have faith to believe
your lover will keep their promise
of commitment and not stray

You have to have faith to believe
your money is safe in the bank
and the markets won’t crash

You have to have faith to believe
your friends won’t let you down
when you need them most

You have to have faith to believe
you can succeed once you begin
to walk your true path

You have to have faith to believe
you can put your life in another
person’s hands and come out alive

Faith is the basis of knowledge
Without faith there is no humanity

the schmooze award

I’ve been awarded the schmooze award by the lovely shinade. She writes a very heartfelt and inspirational blog that touches the mind as well as the soul. Thanks Jackie!

what is the answer?

This is a post from beagle’s blog: Out of touch with Iraq Reality

We just passed the 3,600 US military personel killed in Iraq mark. I can’t help but think of the children and other family members of those who have died in this war.

Today president Bush said this (quoted from the New York Times):

“I fully understand that when you watch the violence on TV every night, people are saying, ‘Is it worth it, can we accomplish an objective?’ Well, first I want to tell you, yes, we can accomplish this fight and win in Iraq. And secondly, I want to tell you, we must, for the sake of our children and grandchildren.�

For the sake of our children and grandchildren? Oh really? Right.

My response to his post was this:

One version of reality is this: the U.S. Strategic Petroleum Reserve currently holds about 570 million barrels of oil. Given that the U.S. imports about half of its oil, the Strategic Petroleum Reserve would run out in about 60 days if all our imports were suddenly cut off.

Iraq currently has 112 billion barrels of oil in it reserves – the world’s second largest proven reserve. Perhaps President Bush is thinking about more than the short-term. Imagine what would happen if our imports were cut-off? Can we afford to leave the nation exposed to that kind of risk?

War sucks! But as Clausewitz said, war is politcs by other means. We only have to read the history books to see that the reality of Iraq is not a new story. Nation-states act out of their own self-interest no matter how much they try to dress up the trimmings.

I’ve been a soldier and it’s bloody hard work and a deadly serious business. But we volunteered knowing the hazards of our chosen profession. General Macarthur once remarked that it is the soldiers who prays for peace the most for he is the one who must bare the burdens of war.

There are so many variables to consider. Choosing the right course of action is tough. What is the cost of peace? What is the cost of maintaining the way of life we take so much for granted?

Crude oil is used to produce fuel for cars, trucks, airplanes, boats and trains. It is also used for a wide variety of other products including asphalt for roads, lubricants for all kinds of machines, plastics for toys, bottles, food wrap and computers.

How many of us consider what it means to turn the key in our ignitions or hop on a bus or train to go to work or fly somewhere on holiday? We want access to these things, but do we know the true cost of having them? Would we be prepared to give these things up?

Perhaps we are just victims of our own cleverness. I don’t know. I also don’t know what the answer is.

peace,

clay

her dreams have gone to bed

The wind whispers between
raindrops of yesterday’s past
the memory of her last kiss
fades to black

She can see her happiness
stagger out the front door
into the arms of another
perfumed night

Her broken dreams have
all gone to bed haunted by
ghosts of lines left unsaid

In the morning she can see
the sun hanging wearily on the
horizon, casting empty shadows
on the pillow by her head

She can feel the emptiness
swim around inside her as
she drags herself out of bed

In the mirror she catches
her reflection, smeared mascara
underneath her brown eyes

She can spend another day
holding hands with the past
pretending everything is ok

She can hear the wind between
the raindrops and she wonders
how long can it last?

farewell to lanzarote

holiday ending
eyes feels the blues coming on
return to normal

airport blues I have
tan bodies no bikinis
fading with the sand

more holiday haiku’s

cool blue liquid space
making bubbles like the fish
breathe underwater

three little sparrows
on my balcony stealing
bread to start the day

another lanzarote update

There’s something about scuba diving that is both relaxing and scary.  I like the idea of floating in 3-dimensional space and breathing like a fish, but the thought of something bigger than me suddenly deciding I’m a part of its food chain, scares me.

Still the joy of diving outweighs the fear.

I met up with my dive guide, a lady who calls herself Cruz.  She was taking me and another Spaniard, named Victor, out for a couple of shores dives from Puerto de Carmen. 

As much as I love Spain, I haven’t picked up the lingo to any great fluency, so we all had to communicate with each other in broken English and Spanish.  But that didn’t stop us from having great conversations.

Our first dive was to the Cathedral – a shore dive that’s accessed from playa de la barrilla. 

Basically it’s a short surface swim out of the bay followed by a free descent down to 14 meters.  From there we swam along the reef.  The visibilty was kicking in around 10 meters.  If I was a better underwater naturalist, I’d tell you about all the different fish I saw, but I’m not so I can only say I saw a lot of colorful fish (not very poetic I know).

We followed the reef to a drop off and then descended to 30 meters to the entrance of the Cathedral which is a large underwater lava cave.  I find caving on dry land a supreme test of my fear factor.  Going into one of these puppies underwater bolted my fear factor up twenty-fold. 

It was like going into the belly of the whale.

A few meters into the cave, Victor gave the “I’m not going any further into this thing sign” and so we turned and left.  Later Victor, pictionary style, told me he became very claustrophobic.

The belly of the whale was too forboding.

Our second dive was a leisurely underwater swim to a place called the Blue Hole, whiched turned out to be a 2-3 meter wide hole in the reef.  Victor, who already made it clear he wasn’t much up for sliding into holes, elected to go over the top of the reef.  Cruz and I went into the Hole and swam down to 25 meters and through the hole out the other side!

I enjoyed both dives and I left the ocean feeling calm, relaxed and joyful at being privy to another world.

Here are a few more holiday haiku’s:

spanish pub sitting
people milling through markets
sun setting cool breeze

lovely evening walk
people parading around
laughter fills the air

woman in red dress
red shoes to match red handbag
sweet perfume lingers
clay
lanzarote 2007

Lanzarote

Greetings from Lanzarote.  Day number three and I’ve been in serious chill mode and enjoying the time to relax and take in the sun.  My impressions of Lanzarote so far are that the island is a nice place to escape to if you want some piece and quiet.  The beaches and the resorts are not teeming with overzealous noisy holidaymakers, so it’s easy to relax. 

If you’re looking for wild fun and exciting nightlife, Lanzarote is NOT the place to go.  If you’re a wind surfer, you’ll love the place.  There is a constant breeze ranging from slight in the morning and the evenings to heavy during midday.

I have some pictures which I’ll try to up load later since I only have 8 minutes left on my credit.  But i’ll leave you with some holiday haiku’s:

can’t wait to escape
another thunder cloud near
it always rains here

motorway rest stop
bound for lanzarote to
catch a bit of sun

two hour delay
one too many bags onboard
higher math is tough

drinking dorada
breeze across balcony blows
nice way to relax

waves break across rocks
wind whispers in my ear the
sand tickles my feet

wheels up, chill time

Nearly done packing for my trip to Lanzarote for a bit of chill time and diving. I thought about doing some hiking as well, but I don’t feel like lumbering around hiking gear and diving gear for such a short break.  So diving it is!

I’m looking forward to escaping this god awful UK weather! It’s freaking July and we are still in jackets, jumpers, and long trousers!!

Anyway, the break will do me some good after an 8 week long contract.

oblivion (first draft)


Old man saddles
up to the bar
says I need a
liquid transfusion
of your best cold
stuff

It’s the image
of her eyes
filled up to despise
all the stupid
little things I’ve
done

I’m haunted by
the sounds of
her sobs in the
dark when she
thinks I’m still
asleep

I stare at the
ceiling and the
cracks in the wall
and I wonder how
we ever even
ended up like this

I can remember
a time when
your eyes shone
bright in the
sunlight on the
arms of the
Park St bridge

You whispered in
my ears, sweet
nothings and that
was fine, cause
i could smell your
perfume and feel
you chest against
mine and your
warm slender
fingers tied up
between strokes
of your hair

Now I sit in
this bar after
midnight choking
on the crusts
of your despair
sipping MGD and
getting high on
Saul Williams

And I long for
the time when
you’d be there
beside me feeding
me lines from
his book

I’m a low flying
crook who
swooped down on
your heart, carried
it to heights
then smashed it
on the rocks
below

And I watched
your broken dreams
crumple and get
mixed up in the
sand and washed
away in the sea

floating in the
night like a
piece of dead
wood drifting
to be washed
up on the banks
of Babylon

a city in strife
like your broken
heart mourning
lost in oblivion

self-actualization

Mthrfckrs better realize, now is the time to self-actualize.Saul Williams, American Poet

Every now and then, I find myself slipping back into the abyss, that place where other people insist on defining me, telling me who I am and who I SHOULD be, according to the standards they mete. And then my old friends, doubt and confusion, take the opportunity to get back inside my head and start causing all sorts of craziness like two drunks at a wedding party. And then as usual, I reach a point where I say, enough is enough, get the fuck out!

I’m at that point today! Enough is enough, I say!

As Maslow said, “A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be. This is the need we may call self-actualization…it refers to man’s desire for fulfillment, namely the tendency for him to become actually in what he is potentially: to become everything that one is capable of becoming…”

peace, clay

chemical attraction

When I need a goodnight’s sleep
I mix myself a cocktail
Of chemicals

There’s a couple of ways
To make the mix
Either solo or in pairs

But by far
The sweeter brew
Is that made by two

All you need is a little
Up and down motion
A pinch of friction
And a dash of emotion

Add some heat
A bit of sweat
And some commotion

And in a minute or two
You’ll get an explosion
The out fall of which
Is a sweet mix of:

Norepinephrine
Seretonin
Oxytocin
Vas opressin
Nitric oxide
And prolactin

Next to heaven divine
All of these chemicals combine
To produce a goodnight’s sleep

Warning: the effects have only
Been proven to work on men
Much to her chagrin

-c.lowe

all the paths I could travel

All the paths I could
Travel are pointing me
In 360 directions

Which path I choose
Is hard for me
To imagine.

If I move in one direction
The circle collapses and
My path becomes fixed

I can’t help but wonder
What would happen if
I chose another path

Where would that one lead me
What would I be giving up
What would I become?

You can be or do anything
You want, so the words go
And that’s true.

The problem isn’t lack
Of choice; it’s too much
Choice that spends my head

Which path to choose I
Cannot tell, so I stand still
Keeping the circle in tact.
-c.lowe

airport blues


Flybe are consistent at one thing…being late.  This airline has a serious problem. I have been flying to and from Edinburgh for the past 6 weeks.  All 12 flights have been late.  And I’m not talking a 10 or 20 minutes.  They have been up to 3 hours late, like this morning!  I’m suppose to be in the air right now on my way up to Edinburgh, but when I checked in at 5.30am this morning, the lady told me my flight would not be leaving until 10.10 instead of 7.15.  It appears to be a moral thing as 1st officers, pilots and flight attendants keep phoning in sick. And for whatever reason, flybe doesn’t seem to have anyone on immediate standby to take the place of their stricken comrade.  So us weary passengers have to wait.  Most of us on the 7.15 flight are business folk which means our work day is kind of cocked up.

But such is such.  I’ll wait it out in the executive lounge and get high off of coffee and orange juice and Scottish fruit cakes.

when ravens cry

You are a raven
Against a blank sky

The earth hides her colours
From you while you hide
Your true Self from her

Your soul sighs behind a
Prison of your own making
Pacing back and forth

In your tired eyes
A prisoner, wrongly imprisoned
Crying out for freedom

Your soul’s cry falls on
Deaf ears in the silence
Of your eyes

The ravens gather in the fields
Under grey skies they come
To hear your soul’s lament:

‘Oh please set me free’
‘Let me walk through the fields’
‘In bare feet, my arms wide open’
‘Embracing the sun’

The ravens bow their heads
They know permission
Will not come

Until the best part
Of your youth and strength
Have passed away

And your limbs have
Gone to sleep; your
Spirit deflated

Because it knows you
Could have been great had
You acted without permission

And set your soul free
To be alive, to be wild,
To wander and enjoy life
For life’s own sake

Greatness is not so rare
But rare is the courage
To live life full of
Passion and grace

The ravens fly
Away one by one
Against a blank sky

To J.

– c.lowe

peace festival

The Peace Festival in Leamington Spa was another great success. This year I wrote and performed a poem as part of the the Holy Wells Procession fringe event which took place on Sunday.
The procession featured appearances by local artists, musicians, poets, storytellers, and dancers. The focal point of the event was us carrying around the ‘River of Wool’, made from many individual blue squares, knitted by people all across Warwickshire as part of the ‘Knit a River for Water Aid’ initiative.
‘Knit a River’ is a national project highlighting every human being’s right to a supply of fresh water and decent sanitation.
The lovely Tiziana organized the Holy Wells Procession.
Sunday was just a great poetry day for me. After doing my thing at the peace festival, I performed a couple of new poems at Pure and Good and Right Sunday evening. A good friend of mine, Dani Carbery, hosted the evening. She brought her mum, Marilyn along, and even though it was Father’s Day, we wrote poems of love and lust for Marilyn whom Dani says her boyfriends describe as a MILF.
Jude Simpson headlined the evening. She was spectacular. If you get a chance to see Jude perform, do so. Checkout her website to find out where she’s performing next.
I’m back in Scotland this week. I swear if I didn’t have a calendar in front of me I would think it was the beginning of winter not summer. Brrrr

pieces of eight


The lady with the best pair of legs you can imagine, Just a Girl in short shorts, has tagged me with the pieces of eight meme. It’s been a while since I’ve done a meme, so I thought I’d give this one a go.
Rules: Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

1. If I thought that I were making
Answer to one that might return to view
The world, this flame should evermore cease shaking.

But since from this abyss, if I hear true,
None ever came alive, I have no fear
Of infamy, but give thee answer due.

Dante’s Inferno (Canto XXVII, lines 61 – 66)
2. My archetypal behavior is that of the jester and the magician. On the one hand, I am an advocate of enjoying the process of life. Life is just too damn short to do otherwise. Jesters are famous for inviting everyone out to play and showing them how they can turn their work, interactions with others, and the most mundane tasks imaginable into fun. On the downside we jesters are prone to laziness and dissipation. The magician in me has it’s fair share of the stage constantly in search of the metaphysical answers to the Universe. While we have the power to transform peoples’ lives and make visions reality, we can, if not kept in check, use this influence over people in a manipulative way.

3. I sometimes miss being a combat infantryman. My days as an infantry platoon leader where pure and elemental. Living constantly with life and death decisions has a way of making you appreciate the finer points of living…of being alive. General Lee once remarked that it was good that war is so terrible, least we should grow fond of it. Where once I was wild and tame-less, I am now sedated and long to be roaming the wilds.

4. My preferred way to live is to never stop exploring. William Blake wrote that in the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors. It is these doors that I seek to find. I believe that knowledge is a worthy enough goal to pursue for its own sake. I believe that peace is found through letting go, leaving the mind free to wander and to wonder and to accept life as a gift.
Peace to me does not mean tranquility. It means freedom, a freedom to live in accord with one’s own understanding. To be set free from those who would attempt to control my mind with rules and regulations that are designed to keep me in slavery, to make me conform, to destroy my soul and become one of the walking dead. I refuse to accept this. My fate is my own

5. I am basically a happy-go-lucky kind of guy who according to my wife is insane. I prefer to think I am one of the mad ones Jack Kerouac wrote about: “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!”

6. I was born in Newark, New Jersey back in 1968. We lived there for most of my early childhood. My dad was a Navy man so we didn’t stay there long. From birth to about age sixteen, we lived in various cities and towns throughout New Jersey. We lived in Newark, Irvington, Plainfield, and Eatontown. My mom and pop split when I was sixteen. Mom loaded us up in the Lincoln and we moved to Augusta, Georgia. I hated Augusta. I split as soon as could.

7. Books. I have always loved books from a very early age I fell in love with books. I love to read them. I love to look at them. I love to hold them in my hands. I love to be surrounded by them. As a kid, the library was my sanctuary. During summer holidays, I would walk the 8 miles to the library on Post and spend the whole day there wandering amongst the stacks. The subject matter was not important. I could be found anywhere in the stacks, from botany to physics, to poetry and history. I spend a lot of time in bookstores now. I can spend hours in these mega-bookshops drinking coffee and wandering the stacks and inevitably spending a small fortune. Books are like stray pets to me. I see one and I want to take it home with me.

8. I love the open road. I don’t even have to have a particular destination in my mind. Just the simple fact of being on the road going somewhere is enough for me. One of my favourite travel passions is to wander around big city streets like a ghost or a man with no name. It’s funny because one of my fears about dying is that I will die in obscurity. And yet, when I wander city streets it the very fact that I am anonymous that makes the streets exciting. I could happily give up all my possessions and walk the earth like Kane.

I am now required to tag 8 pirates: Christine’s Notes, Beaman’s World, Exskindiver, Secrete Agent Artist, CathyK, Anndi’s Luggage, Lady Banana, Serenity Unearthed.

action is character


Action is character wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Syd Field expanded the idea to “what a person does is what he is, not what he says.”  Now that was written in the context of creating characters for screenplays, but as I digested the statement, I thought how would that apply to me as a character.  What do I actually do from day to day, moment to moment? And how does what I do, define who I am.  How much stuff do I say, but not do?  And how much of what I say is a reflection of things I’ve already done, or put another way, how much time do I spend talking about what Bruce Springteen called the glory days?

I don’t have answers yet because the questions stopped me dead in my tracks.  I glimpsed a reflection of the answers and froze.  Could I really answer the questions objectively?  We have a perception of ourselves that is different from how other people perceive us which is different still from reality, whatever that is.

If someone were to write a biography of me, I wonder what they would write…