No Satisfaction...

(With thanks to Keith Richards and Sir Michael Jagger)

I can’t anymore:

Can’t think

Can’t cope

Can’t act

Can’t hope

Can’t fantasise

I wish I could lose the ability to dream:

Can’t rest

Can’t heal

Almost awake

Unceasingly just feel

Always on the edge of achievement

I want to stop waiting:

Waiting for calm

Waiting for ease

Waiting for order

Waiting for peace

Waiting to actually live and not subsist

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 June 2016

Animus

“Momma always said that hate was a strong, strong word."

"Poppa always said that words of hate should not be used.”

(With thanks to Tyrone Wells)

I am so tired of hatred.

I am exhausted by name calling, shit slinging, vein emptying, sabre rattling, and cross burning.

I feel beaten down by duelling liturgies, witnesses and testimonies of faith and doubt.
I have become distrusting of conviction, troubled by fealty, 

and wary of true believers.

I am afraid of the undertow;
I am horrified by the lessening of compromise, 

and the evermore rapidly rancorous rhetoric.

I want a return to caring about each other, 

a place where people actually communicated,
to a time when people realised there were others on the other side of the phone, 

the screen, the argument, the World.

We lost that long ago… the ability to converse, to commune, 

to share… or to politely disagree.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 15 June 2016

”Within you…Without you… Tomorrow Never Knows”

(With thanks to George Harrison, John Lennon, and Sir Paul McCartney)

Close your eyes and open the inner recesses of your mind.

What do you find in its shadows;
pockets of doubt, pockets of fear, pockets of hate?

Do you feel the presence of loss, of peace, of love?

What do you hear in the silence;
oceans, birdsong, tears?

Do you seek answers, or questions?

What season, what place, what time;
yesterday, tomorrow, or today?

What do you sense in the darkness;
Danger, sadness, calm?

Does the quiet overwhelm you, or are you lulled by the rhythm of your heart?

Is it darkness that hides behind your eyelids, 
or do you see the explosive colours of Life?

Do you breathe out, or merely breathe it all in?

What do you see; are you still looking out, or are you truly looking in?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©12 June 2016 (after Orlando)