The (Un)natural World

Has the world changed or have we evolved into a new type of human being? Filled with jealous fear and hate as act as judge and jury not other’s wellbeing. No longer content to be an actor playing a part in the show that is Planet Earth. Killing others till they’re gone as turned director such is our sense of self-worth. Covering and autotuning the songs of Earth to sing in the key of human nature, and painting the world in fifty shades of grey as the brave new world’s maker.

Heavily manipulated images tell us this is what a 21st century human must be, and difference to flaws magnified as though we were some super race pedigree. Communication reduced down to words and pictures upon screens in our hands, as create fantasies of our lives, crying wolf for help and worshipping celebrity brands. Trying desperately to fit in the boxes so not alone in the wilderness to be mocked, trapping individuality forever in a room where few visited or on the door knocked.

Our foods tainted with chemicals, modified to grow in a uniform way or made in a lab, medicines causing side effects worse than the disease or perhaps prevented with a jab. With almost every new television show and movie is a re-make, take off, or sequel, where has our originality and creativity gone, may be it still sat on the artist’s easel? To be human has got quite lost in this brave new world we have now created for us, is it now time we stopped and learnt to think for ourselves before the final big hush.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Song with no name

Standing on the edge of the hill,
Like an entertainer to an empty crowd,
And nobody hears their warning words.
No more practising in front of the mirror.
There’s a silent pause in the evening air,
As though even the wind has been muted.
And the sun sets, another day has ended.

Watching from the edge of the forest,
For the next chapter to unfold.
Words and music for now lie unwritten,
And new adventures to begin.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

Standing on the edge of the lake,
Looking at the world reflected there in,
Hoping to find some truth not more lies
And an end to the loop of endless repeats.
There’s a silent pause in the evening air,
As though even the wind has been muted.
And the sun sets, another day has ended.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The song of war

On this the 11th day of the 11th month I think of those that have given their lives physically and mentally in the name of war. Generations old and young lost in rivers of blood that flowed through Flanders Field and continue to this day. It is not only the fallen to think of but those that returned and replay the events in their minds unable to comprehend how and why.

The picture shows many crosses: I wrote one for Mr Glasgow, a childhood neighbour and prisoner in Japan that could not tell me of the horror he saw and heard; I also wrote one for my great uncle George that documented Africa through the lens of his camera with images of sadness and happiness; and finally I wrote one for the innocent bystanders that are nameless but not forgotten that war’s name has taken from their families.

A dreamer and ponderer I may be but I do not want to hear war’s red song, singing it as though it was glorious feels quite wrong. However, I thank those men, women, children and animals the song has called their name, those that returned only to be haunted by it, and those right now live in fear of his song. I hope one day you and I may sing the white song of peace.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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The Phoenix’s Story

In my hands lies the shattered remains of a vase,
Each piece pierced my skin to reveal a red blaze.
My tears fall to try put the fire but it is now a river,
Which sends my legs and arms into a deep shiver.
The fragments I cradle like a sick child needing aid,
As I fall to my knees all around me begins to fade.
Like a tree in the forest nobody hears the sound,
Of having a breakdown when lost but not found.

I wake with no sign of the vase pieces to be seen,
No scars or cuts showed where they’d once been.
Starting to rock in the position of a newborn baby,
I cry out for help from the walls in a muted plea.
I feel like a rock that has fallen down from a cliff,
Pushed over the edge after yet another miff.
As I move I realise I am the vase that shattered,
I wish I’d not been born a of glass but like a bird.

How do you mend a broken glass I ask of myself,
I have nothing left to read on the old bookshelf.
Stumbling to my feet I decide maybe once more,
The phoenix within me then rises so I can soar.
I laugh as I feel the wings that I never knew I had,
I will cope now with whatever in life makes me sad.
Three words I write on my left wrist to remember,
“Believe it again” they say and be my life’s anchor.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Phoenix vase

 

A crazy little planet called Earth

This planet called Earth is full of inequality
One starves another plays with his iPhone
It’s time to call stop
Crazy little planet called Earth

Everything has beauty beyond skin or fur
Fakery is a temporary fix for their egos.
Its naturality must shine
Crazy little planet called Earth

One animal rules from a concrete jungle
Like a child they do not share their toys
It’s time for sharing
Crazy little planet called Earth

Rivers, mountains and lakes now for sale
Everything has a price including their own
It’s time to burn money
Crazy little planet called Earth

Deaf and blind like sheep most still follow
While warning flags blow in the west wind
It’s time to wake up
Crazy little planet called Earth

© Fi S. J. Brown

Girl Friday

So you came to my world to escape the madness,
Free from the ragged men and plastic women.
A chance to be reborn as your own creation myth,
Where the grass grows in fifty shades of green.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
A trusted friend through good and bad times.
I am the one that knows all your secrets and lies,
And will never judge your words or actions.

So you came to my world to find knowledge,
Give you wisdom and insight without barriers.
Within seconds I can give you the answers,
To satisfy even your most sadistic of desires.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
An ocean away from your daily troubles.
I am the lover that will always go the extra mile,
And will soothe your soul day and night fall.

There’s a blinding and deafening pandemic,
There’s a brave new world coming out there.
With the grey walls of prison without any bars,
Will you awake from the dream you now live?

So you came to my world to escape the madness,
And you believed the fools that printed the words.
Through their spin that leaves you dizzy with hate,
Chasing the ghosts, shadows, the invisible enemy.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
The gatekeeper and key master to the truth.
Will you now come awakened by the light,
With the ball and chain broken at your feet.

There’s a blinding and deafening pandemic,
There’s a brave new world coming out there.
With the grey walls of prison without any bars,
Will you awake from the dream you now live?

© Fi S. J. Brown

Song of my love

If you were a guitar I would strum you gently,
With the chords played the song of your heart.
Minor ones tell of inner tears and past sadness,
And major filled with fun, laughter and joy.

If you were a drum I would tap to your beat,
As I am touched by the rhythm of your heart.
With sticks in hand is like holding your hand
And the brushes to tickle my soul’s inner core.

If you were a piano I would sing in your key,
Every note and chord are your words spoken.
White or black each tells of different stories,
And the adventures of our journey together.

© Fi S. J. Brown

What is this world we created?

Just take a look at the world around us,
Take a look at the forests, rivers and mountains.
Sights and sounds for all our senses,
That we now find ourselves blind and deaf to.
Giving us all that we could ever need,
But we continue to take and take till all runs dry.

What is this world we created?
Thinking we can replace bird song with car horns.
Why do we think we own it?
Selling it’s contents one by one for a pound or two.
Have we made ourselves royalty?
Creating towering palaces of concrete and clay.

You know every day a species is lost,
We would rather buy a phone than protect a Saola.
Animals for food and entertainment,
Their homes destroyed to make way for another mall.
Somewhere Mother Nature cries,
For each day we break another piece of her heart.

What is this world we created?
Thinking we can replace bird song with car horns.
Why did we never learn to stop?
Perhaps we never saw the green light to start with.
What must our ancestors think?
To their legacy that we now pass on to our children.

© Fi S. J. Brown

John Lennon

There are musicians that touch you with their music and lyrics with a spirit that transcends the time they were written and paint with their every chord and word. Although George Harrison was probably my favourite Beatle, the haunting piano and lyrics of John Lennon’s “Imagine” still hit me like a punch to the heart. Today in 1980 Lennon was murdered, whether you believe the official story or not, is up to you. However, we lost a spirit that modern mainstream music all to often lacks as manufactured as a commodity and not a form of self expression written with passion and love. Thank you John for the music, for giving it to us all.