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May 29, 2019

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The Art of Living and Dying.

April 5, 2019



A Journey in Four Stages 





Death is not our friend, nor our enemy, but our foreshadower 


Her Death Wish




(Parts i and ii) 






i)                   Prologue – the girl




She stands at a juncture. The most critical she has ever faced. And yet it doesn’t feel that dramatic. The decision to end her own life was slow in coming. She had battled a myriad of illnesses throughout her childhood, yet all stemming from the one issue. She had never experienced/possessed/felt, what others had. 

Despite the complications over the years, the moment is simple. It is pure. She has never felt so clear. This, coming after further discord – the years of teenage chaos. It was overwhelming - the emotions of an attractive young girl’s world, with its convoluted web of relationships, dramas and tears. 

Yet, in sincere reflection, she knew she couldn’t have been more wrong. It was frivolous. Juvenile. And now that she has arrived at this point, all her suffering seemed just as pointless. It did not need to continue. There is another way. It makes the most sense to her.


“I don’t mind so much. It’s my choice. It’s impossible to be happy all the time. And I’m going to a better place.”


All that remained, was a question of how.








ii)                   Us





The Beginning of Dissatisfaction




Shattered from Comfort


Ripped from the only authentic Heaven


With all needs catered for.


From a warm, luminescent Red


To abrasive White


Biting open atmosphere (Exposed, Cold?)


An aching hunger


The first sensations of Fear.


Strange, encompassing Sensations


Shapes undefined and unsparing Smells. 




And an understanding of blurred Faces


Touch, comfort of skin, relief in the Familiar, frustrating restrictions of the Body,


Confusion of Perspectives, the urge to shit and the satisfaction of it.


Kick, roll, simple joys of play, sounds, the sweetness of melody


Delight in known faces, luxury in routine.


To crawl and want more.



To Grow, Sleep, Dream.



A stumble, a victory.


A fall, a fail, a Nightmare. Terror and tears.


A desire, a need, a perpetual feed.


A want and a step.


To Walk, (finally), upon grass.


To copy, imitate and shape.


To verbalise those inner feelings.




To kid around with Kids.


Who become your Friends


And Enemies


While the Wind tickles your skin


The Sun makes you squint


The Schoolyard where all things are possible


And the restrictions never more keenly felt


The classroom to comprehend and confuse


Why? Not fair. Me. Mine. No.




Practice, Lament. A wish for more


Change, the ever constant.


Flesh altering, uncertainty, insecurity.


A divergence in bodies


Inevitable comparisons


A metamorphosis, pimples, pubes, pus and previews


Blood and semen and seismic shifts


The world awaiting and repelling


A blunder through it


Where to be, who to be



So much to choose from


But is it you?

An invention of self


To Fit In


Or brave it alone


A place of your own


If it exists.




To love


To long (so much longing)


To be on the outside


Not wanting to be in


But hurting because you’re not.




A merging with another


Because the inner calling is louder


Than the appeal


Of the recipient.


Placing all your hopes in one basket


A surrender to impulse


A heart is hurting


If not yours,


Soon will be.




The Exultation of Bodies and the senses sublime


The study, the experimentation


The acquisition of knowledge


The frustration of finances


Merged into the workforce


To yield and to harvest


An ideal foreign


Contrary to yours


Already moulded by upbringing.



The conditioning of Country


A culture ingrained


A wedding, a death


A family departed


The finality of it


A blind eye is easier.




And then there are Dreams


The devastation of Rejection


There’s somebody else with more


And you want more


And what you Need


And what you desire


Are two different states.





The Conflict within your soul


Never lets you forget what you are


Even if you are still learning


Exactly who…




The years fall away


And love may find you


And it may not


And the world is deviating


Though you know it’s really the same


And your perspective shifts again


Only if you knew then


What you know now


And the responsibility of that


And all the rest.




The solace in forgiving


The enchantment in wisdom


The more you acquire


The less time there is to utilise it.


And before you are ready to accept it


To pass on what you know,


Your turn has come


Even if no one is listening.




There is a will


A catastrophic urge


To leave a part of yourself behind


To have it


Not been for nothing


Because you know that you’re dying a little every day


And soon there will be no more time


And you’ll wish for more


Or maybe you won’t


But yet, still, you must accept      


With no small level of apprehension