A Splash of Colour

This one is for the spoken word.

In the in-between, head-down, pass-by world everything looks a little grey.

Colour teases the edge of our eyes but blurs out, as we move too fast to taste its richer accents.

Grey is not a monotone.

There are shades of grey and flavours of grey and sprays and days and ways of grey.

We sit at the center of a maze of grey.

And looking out-

Can we see the prize we sought in the first place?

Are we hugging walls, peering down dead ends to bends that take us right back to nowhere?

So let’s slow.

All those twists, those turns, those trends-

They’re not what is holding us back from earning our just reward.

In those walls around us, the path beneath-

Look down.

Look around.

There, in the cracks-

A splash.

When we open our eyes-

We bring the colour with us.

Let it spread.

IMG_0038See the shades


If you want some written style to go with the spoken style, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.



Can you hear me?

The Wizard behind the curtain is not always an evil.

Indubitably, the obfuscation of one’s central identity can be traced to a wanton disregard for the effulgent articulation of the psyche, the abrogation of the id.

That was probably not the sentence you were expecting.

I hear the words I write.

This tone, this cadence- these are the measures by which the words flow.

This is a crude opening I have given to you.

But the words we choose, the way we arrange them, create the tones we hear, the flow of our thoughts and ideas.

I write to be read.

I do not always write the same way to be read.

When we peer behind the curtain at the Great Wizard, it is not the tiny man we should be amazed by.

It is the sheer depth of change and creation that can arise from a tiny figure, frantically pulling levers.

A good voice is invisible.

A better voice carries you on a journey that amazes you at every golden step.

We do not need to see the levers or the pain of their creation.

We do need to see the path before us and hear, always, the voice beckoning us forwards.

IMG_5221Follow the road, even without yellow bricks

Here I Am (Act I)

Act I

I once stood in front of a hundred people at a metal band and open bar fundraiser and started to read poetry.

This is not the beginning.

We open on an invisible stage.

When I first walk out into the spotlights, everything slows down.

Ten, a hundred, a thousand people- it doesn’t matter.

There is a trick with spotlights.

They hide the world beyond them.

There are shapes in the darkness, flashes of movement and noise, but-

unless I’m at that hundred person poetry reading being held during a metal band/open bar fundraiser

-the watchers might as well not be there.

The other trick is that as soon as they disappear, I have to rebuild them.

When I look out into the darkness, I have to create the faces of my judgment.

I have to create me.

There is a joy, true and genuine, to performing for myself.

But that moment when I build the audience in my mind, for the story I am to tell-

That is the moment my words have power.

That is the moment my pen, my voice combine to look into the darkness, to say-

Here I am.

IMG_5453Beyond the lights, beyond the glitter lies the story.

Stay tuned for ACT II tomorrow!