Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Masculinity, what is it?



Never a man enough for you,
Unsure of how to act or what to do.

You turned your back and lied to me,
Leaving me alone, scared and unable to see.

The difference you loathed and feared so much,
Was the thing that would eventually become my crutch.

Be a man you would yell and always say,
Don't show them you're a faggot, poofter or even gay.

Closed eyes, not wanting to see who I truly am,
Instead criticizing me, pushing me away from our clan.

Punched, kicked and beaten to my very core,
It seemed through all this, you disowned me more and more.

I needed you, your words, your guidance, your love,
Not a day went by that I wished god would take me to the safety above.

Masculinity, who or what does it even truly mean?
I have seen an ideal; boring, baseless, almost like a smokescreen.

Those that have have had a supportive Father walk with pride,
Those like me, that have gone without, simply learnt how to cower and hide.

To be a man means more than being macho, big and grand,
It's loving those around you, being honest and always taking a stand.

Masculinity, what is it?


Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Menina.


Eyes full of pain upon a face that has barely lived,
No one notices you, no one cares who you are or what you have to give.

Staring at the people in front of you, the ones you so long to be,
You stare so hard, with so much passion, but you my darling, they will never see.

They laugh at you now, make fun of you and always push you away,
It won't be long now, before this is just a memory of yet another horrible day.

Youth is wasted on those that know no better or with whom have little care,
Never listen to the negativity, remember what I told you: walk with pride, walk with flare.

You are beautiful menina.


Friday, January 13, 2017

Mother.



You were just a child when you had me,
A girl, not yet a woman, and now with a baby.

Alone, unsure and now raising two,
If anyone was going to succeed, it was surely to be you.

I never understood the struggles you faced,
Each and everyday seemed like a brand new race.

Your temper as fierce as your beauty,
Nothing could stop you and your enduring sense of duty.

I tried and tested you until the very end,
Yet through it all, you are my one true friend.

My hero, my inspiration and all that I love,
Those that have passed, watch with pride up above.

You are the one I call Mother,
The only one I have, unlike any other.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Then, I saw you.




I saw you, ethereal and dressed in white,
Watching me as I rest, only just last night.

At first I was scared and thought it to be a dream,
You reassured me that everything was just as it may seem.

You took me to a place full of people crying and in sorrow,
When I asked what this meant, you told me I will understand all tomorrow.

As clear as you presented yourself to me,
The events that followed would be put down in history.

I spoke of what I saw and knew, something I shouldn't have done,
You warned me that people would laugh at me, thinking I was nothing more than dumb.

It was good to see you, to feel your hand on mine,
Something I had been longing for, something that always kept me in line.

I wish I could see you just one more time,
to tell you I love you and that I'm doing just fine.

Maybe I'll get one more chance just to say hi,
But for now my love, I must painfully say goodbye.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Death.



Death.

For some it is the end of one journey and the commencement of another.

A sigh of relief for some. No more pain, uncertainty or the need to fight.


Fear for many, something that is taught by the books from a young age.

Tears for those left behind. Memories of moments shared, laughter that made your belly hurt and the joy of love, friendship or just being in their presence.

Sadness, coupled with a smile, a shudder of disbelief and the reality of a new chapter that begins now.

The urgency to make every moment count, that as we take that last breath, it is those very memories that will carry us all through to wherever or whenever we may meet again.

For all, a reminder that we are all mortal. That every single second matters.

Death, a place to rest.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

(My) Queen at 90: A post of appreciation.


For many people it is hard to understand how someone like me could respect and adore a person who was born into a life of luxury and privilege. Or maybe not. For the entirety of my life, 40 years to be precise, I have lived as a subject of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. I am also Australian, a country that requires a journey of some 24 hours or so by plane to a (United) Kingdom that is ruled by Her Majesty, The Queen. In fact, if truth be told, I have only stepped foot on the ground of her beloved (United) Kingdom, twice in my life. Yet Her Majesty has stepped foot on Australia's land a total of 16 times over her illustrious reign.

There hasn't been a time in my life when at some point or another The Queen has come up as a topic of conversation, been on the TV or a magazine cover, or simply been right in front of my eyes via a coin, stamp or even a picture on the wall looking down at me as I listened to my teacher attempt to teach his or her class. It seems like a lifetime ago that as a child, when the national anthem played we all had to stand up and face that very picture as we sang. For so many years, and before the age of communication, The Queen in that picture seemed like a fairytale, someone that was beyond this earth, whimsical even. She still is.

Today sees Her Majesty mark yet another milestone in a life that has seen it's fair share of the good and the bad, and everything else in between. Today she celebrates 90 years of age and also the fact that she is the oldest living Monarch in the world, something that many would associate with a sedentary lifestyle, the complete opposite where Her Majesty is concerned. It is this and many other traits that I truly admire about The Queen, she just never stops, never gives into a dramatic outburst and for as long as I can remember, has stayed completely focused on just what it is she believes she was meant to do: serve her people.

I know that for many, they will not understand how I could possibly respect a woman who is part of an age old institution that's based purely on birth right, something that in my opinion is not only exclusive to royalty in this day and age. I look at the strength and stability that she has brought to her family and many nations in their time of grief, misunderstanding and even political uprising. She never gives her political opinion and yet always ensures that her presence is felt. She is a constitutional monarch and not absolute, she pays taxes and and against her will, her life and all it's belongings are there for public consumption, criticism and more often than not, scrutiny. Through all this, never once has she ever publicly complained, instead, she has gotten on with "the job at hand", being The Queen.

Today is a day that Her Majesty, The Queen should revel in, a day well earned, well lived and well deserved. Happy, happy Birthday and may there be many more.

Long live The Queen!


For more information on Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II:

https://www.royal.uk/search/her-majesty-the-queen

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

The History Of Tomorrow.



I remember as a child listening to my Mum scold me for procrastinating, something I truly believed I never did. Hindsight, along with a clear memory has allowed me to see that my Mum was entirely correct with her scoldings, scoldings of this type that were always accompanied with the line: “Tomorrow never comes”. German pragmatism at its finest.

As life would have it, procrastinating would not only become something I detested in others, but it would also be sent to try me via various work colleagues and every now and again, someone that I was dating. I too found myself echoing that very line that used to see me rolling my eyes in contempt at my Mother, the very person who in her own unique way, seemed to live for the hope that tomorrow may bring.

Tomorrow, like many other people and situations in my life, never came. My history was what I was creating today and was heavily influenced by my past and those that had trodden its well worn path, but what of the history of tomorrow? Surely my dreams lie there too, they must go there sometimes, right? Tomorrow became not only that forbidden place my Mum spoke about as a child, a place that only lazy or deluded people seemed to go to, but now it had become my sanctuary of sorts. A place where I could safely park my dreams for a while.

Things became clearer to me as the years passed, faces easier to read and words easier to decipher from fact or fiction. My histories started to become examples for those with lesser years than I, and conversations were not so much about the dreams I was hoping to see come to fruition, but rather those that had. Yesterday left me evaluating, today has me planning, but the history of tomorrow had become the place that those now sacred and far fewer dreams sought for comfort and nurture.


The history of tomorrow, a place that might just be.