my life

My space, my boundaries, my me, my mine, my just enough for one,
“I’d like to dig all on my own”, then “where have you all gone?”
Grave digging mimics life I learn,
Crumbed mud turns into clay,
Before I learned how things would change,
in my far too ample grave.

By morning I’m interrupted, the sound of boom, boom, boom!
The chill it smacks my every cell, just like that hand-skinned drum,
Medicine wheel but just by name,
Mere cold, wet flowers and smudge
Soon third eye leads to shut-eye,
in this damp and make-shift lodge.

The honest beauty of dew-drenched greens, then reality: it kicks in,
Socks on in a freezing bath, or a condom used again,
I crawl into this sacred space,
the soil becomes my mirror,
Contemplation into complacency,
my muddy, little hollow.

Twenty four hours, countless seconds, no food, just water for me,
A fashioned stake creates a clothes hanger, a troweled hole for pee,
My wind up light, I can use it now,
At last, its time to shine,
Being present gives way to snoozing,
The made-up sense of time.

Where is my spirit animal, that beaver, where was it?
The badger, dog and butterfly, that wild and crazy cat?
The bumps were there, they never let me down,
The ones stuck in my back,
In this crazy cave, full of expect,
where stillness leads to nap.

Reaching for the trowel, not happy with the ground,
Planing, stabbing Mother Earth, mushing, fisting down,
Not through anger or to aggress,
I make my hole a home,
A place where one becomes another,
This earthy, gritty tomb.

Then the Goddess came to me – what had taken her so long?
I plunged my tongue deep into her, this nameless, willing one,
Tempted by my earthly call,
Yet resisted with all my soul,
Where visions lead to outright sleep,
in this dark and wetted hole.

I plan on where I’d find her: my one, my truth, my mate,
This girl whose taste and smell is love,
It’s soon but hard to wait,
Meditate, I think in vain, and slip into the theme,
Of meditation into full-on sleep,
in this dark and wishful dream.

My birthstone, I remember you, my one my only friend,
One side so smooth, and like a child, in awe I stare and tend,
Grabbing crystal tightly,
I surrender to the crave,
The attitude that brought me here,
my unforgiving grave.

Let go now, and the feelings change – purples, blacks, they meld
Shapes and patterns, a foetus, a witch, the next thing is withheld,
But don’t hold on, force it to stay,
As then it chooses to go,
In this crazy mind as it rotates,
to concept from pure flow.

Pulling back my yoga mat, my bag and pink pillow,
Where creepers creep and scuttlers scuttle, and burrowers; they burrow,
I say to them, “Keep to your mud,
your dirt and grime and stench,”
“And I’ll stay in my sleeping bag,”
in this home-sweet, grave-like trench.

It’s over now, I’m with my Dad, New York or somewhere new,
Chicken burger, fries, a Coke – I’m starving, I’ll take two!
“Buried alive, Dad” I said,
Then ‘boom’ it’s time to leave
With mud to fill my one-time home,
This so-called ‘Earth Womb’ grave.