The Great Sugar Loaf Is Mine

The Great Sugar Loaf is Mine ( Tá Na Slébhte Maiana) .
The pointy brown breasts of the earth,
How it used to spark up new life!
Now despisal was brought to birth.
Gazing climbs leaves me at strife.

It reminds of the dwelling dwarf,
Surveying land as sole owner.
His front face says he wants to morph,
His back face has no mouth to honour.
I’ll take back these mountains
They are mine, not yours.

All these words not in your mouth,
You are not even worth a shrug.
Nothing but a caravan man.
Always moving, never rooted,
Plugging off is your bravest plan.
No goodbye, your leave is muted.

Time to take back, thought associations.


Commenting is Discussing

Don’t mind me. I am going to start pasting some of my comments from Instagram on other people’s page or my own. I often have insights, deeper reflections and scrutiny of subjects, with my poetry community soul friends and fellow writers on the comments section. It is like a little poetry /book club.

Today, I was thinking about how I tend to feel aversion for things, activities, interests, purely anything that I do not agree with. I either Love or Hate something, though I am quite acquainted with irrelevance too. I know this aversion is ego ridden. When I feel it, is because I cannot accept that the same thing I reject, can be appropriate and suitable to others.

I understand this, on a cognitive level, but when I am conversing with others, my “I” gets in the way. This is my task for the next few weeks. Do not feel aversion. It is a sign I am ego-tied and looking from my sole life-goggles. Well, I will endeavour to work on judgement. Nonetheless, it serves a purpose, that of protection, for instance. That is to come next. Identify when judgement arising is fine and when it is an ego chain. One of the issues I had, whilst online dating, is that I tried to ignore my judgements. The first interactions had indicated certain behavioural patterns but I decided to ignore it for thinking I was boxing them in. After all, it was only an interaction, how could I label them X? Thus, I ignored red flags and as a result, got let down, got hurt, which contributed to more trust issues and feelings of inadequacy. So, judgement has its part to play in life. I only need to adjust this mental tool we have.

My purpose to post comments on here is because I see this blog as my journal. And I want to keep them for further reflection.

Encrusted Tissue

Encrusted Tissue



I was walking-wound.
For a full year.

Bleeding profusely.

Sorrow was perfume that I used.

Now, an evaporated ooze, memories coagulate.

A year on,

I have moved on

To being a walking-scab,

Dressed in a thick-skin wrap.



*Check out these Irish Scots Pine. I am in love with them. My favourite tree of all times – currently.


Good morning… Now it is the afternoon! If you start your day on the right side of life… You are a winner! Here’s to being happy for just that simple reason… Being!
I saw little rabbits in their brownish fur. Dogs chasing after them and birds hallo-ing my head… I wonder are any of them, Aengus’ kisses? It can be, as long as I believe.

*check out my puffy eyes and see how much I care that “not my best shot” is getting immortalised.

I had to edit this and share. One day after posting this, I was listening to Adyashanti on The One you feed podcast (my favourite) and he is talking exactly about “waking up on the right side of the universe” and feeling “unknowingly good”… And that tends to relate to a lack of inner conflict!
To me, that means, I am surrendering to what is…by being grateful for what I have. And when that happens, what tends to follow next is manifestation of your dreams. Feeling good without any relative reason is a sign. Listen, read it and watch it. This is the universe corresponding with me. It talks to us all the time. This podcast helps me understand myself better. As poetry. As my unconscious and I come in contact with each other. Only thing is. I don’t really have dreams right now. So I accept it. As it comes.
Listen if you want to, here: The One You Feed] 231: Adyshanti Part 2 via @PodcastAddict

Reflections by Nietzsche

“We are strangers to ourselves, we perceivers – we ourselves to ourselves; for this there is reason enough. We have never sought for ourselves, – how, then, could it happen, that some day we should find ourselves? Rightly has it been said: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart also. Our treasure is where the bee-hives of our knowledge are. We are even on the road thither as born hymenoptera and honey-gatherers of the spirit; we care at bottom but for this – to “bring something” home.

As regards life otherwise, so-called “experience”, – who among us has been earnest enough for it? Or time enough? On such matters, I fear, we were never really “by the matter”; for our heart is not there – and not even our ear! ”

(Friedrich Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, Foreword, 1897)

Empty Nest

Empty Nest .



That little black bird with the orange beak
Had no shelter to hide from the winter sleet.
So she built up herself a home.
Carrying sticks,
Each, little grey bones,
From the past lives she’s pullulated on.

There you have it. The poison has been sloped.
It hits you hard, there is no time to elope
It contaminates you whole and corrodes.
She waits until the meat has dried
from the cold scorching breeze.
And that is when she pricks up at the bones
Pulling it hard like a flowy string.
Then she can carry it, to her little nest.
A nest full of memories from the past.
Memories of death. Of people who have flown in search of rest. Despite having left,
Their cushioned shape remains intact.
That empty space reminds her that,

Someone used to reside there.



Fun fact: this is a grey heron. I didn’t have a picture of a blackbird.

Poetry in Pj’s – The Drama

The drama

The girl was acting.
Unawaringly, it felt like living.
But it was just costume she had been given.
And all the players in that play
Had her throwing many shades
She would not know for another day.

Until she turned around,
A few eyes, make a crowd.
Though her head was what bowed.
She heard silence, no applause.
And the tomatoes were thrown
It was her show after all.