Song of my senses

I see a road
that runs rings round an extinct volcano
and metallic beasts travelling fast
taking part in a race built for rats
trapped in a maze without borders
Others walk with their heads down
holding a spectre of a black mirror
and blowing kisses to the reflection
like Narcissus did long before them
sleep walking through their lives

I hear a voice
manipulated on a machine to sing
and not one that flies in the sky
all colour is reduced to white noise
and marketed like the Emperor’s clothes
Tweeting not for joy but on Boris and Hunt
their road leads to number ten in London
and tell lies but their noses never grow
choices yet seem unknown to the sheep
but the ripples will be felt for decades

I touch the stars
trying to catch the falling ones in my hands
like lost souls they need empathy not hate
troubled from traumas from a painful past
now only whispers that fear to speak aloud
As the moon sends others into a madness
too much worshipping the sun not her beauty
as false gods entrance into hypnotic obedience
with the truth lies within below the painted flesh
and wear masks to fit in boxes they do not belong

I taste the freedom
swallowing not the red that continues the lie
taking the blue awakens the brave new world
like the onion with many layers the lies go on
creating false tears as slice through to truths
Travelling a journey that never goes straight
looking back is best at with a passing glance
distractions to the left and right only entrap me
forwards one step at a time dancing to my beat
and singing songs in multicolour not white noise

© Fi S. J. Brown

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Have you…?

Have you ever lingered in a garden instead of passing by? Heard the songs of the flowers as they gently sing in the warm wind. Or watched the pollen on a dandelion turn a bee’s feet to yellow dust as it dances?

Have you ever looked at our world reflected back in puddles? Or seen birds silently feed their young in rhododendron bushes, where a cat below purrs in hope to spot one to bring home as their own reward?

Have you waited for a red poppy to open, only for it to burst open like a Jack in the box springing a surprise. Or opened the petals in advanced as grew tired of waiting? If only we could learn to be so patient.

Have you walked a path hundreds of times, but failed to noticed all that has changed since the first time you walked down it? Looked for shade in the evening light, as honeysuckle tickles your nose.

Have you ever watched the sun setting behind hills, as its dancing rays play with golden and red hues at the closing of a day.  Being grateful another day is over, but not the good things to lessons it taught you.

There are miracles everywhere you go, be they made by nature or from human hands. It is a beautiful world that you are gifted to live in, but will you ever learn to be just part of it and not try run it yourself?

© Fi S. J. Brown

Music – a definition

Music is everywhere and everything. It teases the ears with hypnotic rhythms that send us into a trance and waves of sound that make every cell in the body vibrate. Keys that define moods, major and minor, with chords that bring the sound together as one. Words that make us repeat them like parrots and take them to our hearts and soul as though written just for or about us. Every instrument paints in its own unique colour, making masterpieces visual not just aural, and opens our eyes to new journeys that words alone could not do. Vocals do not need synthetic additions, they’re an instrument in their own right, and lose their true emotion when become one with machine. Together it makes a special something that can lift our spirits or make us cry, a therapy and medicine that’s not a luxury but necessity for surviving life.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The night boat

My bed feels so big and empty I keep waking up,
As the winter cold increases, the night wind blows on.
I toss and turn like a boat on the waves of far off seas,
I wish they were real to carry me off to distant shores.

So I could explore the world like the explorers of old,
Leave all to the chance of a tossed fifty pence piece.
With new sights, sounds, tastes and smells all at once,
But for now I must go back to sleep till the spring sings.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Thirty Six Years

As I approach the thirty sixth anniversary of my birth, I walk up the hill with an observatory that I have climbed many times before, often in the company of a four legged friend of fur and bark. However, today I walk alone to reflect not the lens of a telescope to the stars but my mind on the journey I have taken so far to reach the point I am at today.

As I walk, I look out to a city that became my place of birth after an eleventh hour decision meant I was not born where my journey had biologically started. This city of birth is also the place of many childhood memories that now echo across where I look and make trees sway as feel their vibrations. Many of the trees look on fire, not with passion but as a warning not to dwell on the past for too long. If look close some are shedding their leaves in empathetic tears to the memories they now feel from my memories, good and bad.

I think back to my earliest days, filled with wonder to the world around me and curious to its ways like a newborn puppy yet as wise as an owl in what I seemed to know. I remembered a world that was filled with many colours, but school and family taught me that it was black or white; they replaced the songs of birds and rivers with their own drills and guns; they said I had five senses but I was sure I could pick up at least twice that; and gave me pills to sedate me from asking the questions I wanted answers to, as could or would not answer them. The grown-ups ultimately told of a world of them and us, where the humans ruled over all that l could see and deeper, wider and higher than my eyes could; they were only judged by a man named god, who had created it all and forgave if I did wrong as long as I asked him to.

As I became a grown-up myself I felt a boomerang effect, in whatever I did and wherever I went this city would bring me back. Sadly, I never wanted to be back, in fact quite the opposite, I longed to explore the world like the explorers I read about in childhood books and was not content to do it from a seat any more. At the same time, those around me were settling in “normal” life: getting a job, finding a partner, setting up home and having kids. I felt like an alien in a world to which I did not or would ever belong. Restricted to a tourist visa but not granted citizenship to this world.

Like a circus freak in Victorian times since my earliest teens I wanted to hide away, as my head said I looked like the love child of Frankenstein’s monster and the Hunchback of Notre Dane, an unloveable ogre with growths over my body, and faults greater than San Andreas. I often wondered on making my curtain call, I had enough of being a player in someone else’s movie and being used by those I thought I could trust. When I took what I wanted to be my final bow, I fell not on concrete but autumn leaves, leaving no visible scars but many scratches that I could not itch. Picking the pieces up I knew only I could glue them as there was no one but me there to add glitter or shine.

Much of my life I felt like a donkey among the thoroughbred horses in a race of life, but against the odds I completed a degree, masters two and PhD before I reached the age of 32. When I signed off my final word on my doctorate, I took my own Hippocratic Oath, never to work or study in a laboratory again! The relief felt like I had been given the chance to start again from where I had last saved, which turned out to have been almost twenty years before. So I picked up my pen and let the colours, visuals, sounds, tastes, feelings and smells of that moment release like a series of tributaries forming one big river with each ones strengths and weaknesses.

Now I return my thoughts to today, spinning around on where I stand, thinking where in each direction I could go next without the boomerang pulling me back here. I thought of people that I knew in every one, the special people who’s emails, texts, and phone calls make me smile like I could never have imagined but two years before, for it hurt my face to even try. Whereas now I could share my journey with them, sharing in tears of both pain and laughter. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but I know where I have been. Life has a bittersweet taste but the colours, sounds, visuals and things that belong beyond my wildest dreams are within my touch, so I’m going to take a leap and follow them wherever they may take me next.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The Last Ship

From a writing prompt: “The last ship is leaving Earth and you aren’t on it. You’re standing at a console able to send a message to Humanity’s destination. You know it will arrive before they do.”

This message is a from the ship Earth, together we make up the last of the citizens of the Planet Earth, third rock from Apollo’s cave, in the Milky Way galaxy.

Many of our species thought themselves lord and lady of our world, when really we were as important as a grain of sand to the greater world. They thought they could build concrete jungles, instead of the ones in guidebook of Earth. Many did not see how like the flowers of a meadow they are, different colours and varieties, none more special or worthless than the next. Nor did they hear the songs of the birds and animals, instead they drowned them out with bombs and gunfire. They became to scared to touch each other as frightened what diseases they may catch from a hug of empathy and/or love. Their taste did not warn them that genetically modifying their food sources would change not just the source itself but destroy homes to other living beings and kill ourselves slowly inside. When they released the chemical weapons they did not smell them, as had not seen the planes that had flown overhead for many a year in preparation.

So now the last of us are headed for your world, we ask not to be treated as slaves, royalty or equals on arrival. We ask you make your mind up when you see the similarities we share and the differences between us and all that makes up your world. We come in peace as have now learnt it is fighting over difference that hurts many, we all make mistakes, money is not a source of happiness but control, and we know how fortunate we are to be heading to your world, millions did not.Thank you.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Self-soothing

Why are we always so hard on ourselves? We need to be more self-soothing, i.e. comforting, nurturing and being kind to ourselves. One way to think of this is to think of ways of soothing each of our five senses: Vision, Hearing, Smell, Taste, and Touch. Take a minute to think of each sense before reading on, letting the words become visual and the visual reassure you.

VISION: Step outside or look out your window and look around you in every direction. Go to an art gallery or a museum and let at creativity past and present inspire you. Pick a flower from a park, take it home with you and put it where you can see it. Light a candle and watch the flame, let it give you hope. Follow a cloud in the sky and let the rain fall for your tears.

HEARING: Shut your eyes as, let all around you sing. Listen to your favourite music; let the rhythms relax your heartbeat and the melody become like a lullaby. Sit by a lake, listening to all that calls it home and the songs they sing. Listen to a baby gurgle and think of the positives you have achieved in your life so far, be proud of them without letting your ego grow.

TASTE: Drink a soothing drink like herbal tea, letting the taste run over your tongue and slowly down your throat. Take a slice of lemon, it will remind you that life can be bitter, and then take a slice of orange to remind you it can be sweet too. Have a special treat, and eat it slowly, savouring each bite and let every bite remind you that with small steps anything is possible.

SMELL: Notice all the different smells around you as you sit or stand. Walk in your garden or in the woods, particularly just after a rain, and breathe in the smells of nature. Light a scented candle or incense let them inspire and relax you. Even if you think you cannot smell anything, you can and this reminds you there is someone there at all times with you in spirit.

TOUCH: Pet your dog or cat or cuddle a baby or loved one, let their love reassure that you are loved and matter. Float or swim in a pool, and feel the water caress your body and massage it all over your skin. Take a bubble bath, take a bubble and blow it away as though what or who has hurt you is no longer part of you and will leave no scar upon your hands or feet.

© Fi S. J. Brown

A forest tale

Stop, look around but listen close.
Don’t let a single word slip your lips.
Let all your other senses guide you,
On a journey that has no boundaries.

To your left stands an old oak tree, 
He is grandfather of this woodland.
In his branches an owl sings a song,
Older than the folk tales humans tell.

Below stand a crowd of toadstools,
The silent soldiers of the forest guard.
Out of the leaves a squirrel comes,
Looking for nuts like a pirate for gold.

The sun beams in your eyes to look,
And follow the shadows all around.
A gentle breeze touches your face,
This is mother nature’s blessings.

Now turn to leave but remember,
You will always be welcome here.
There are no defined opening hours,
And priceless is their wealth to Earth.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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Autumn – the multisensory season

Listening to the rain falling on autumnal leaves,
Like tears trickling down a clown’s tired cheek.
One a pulsating beat to dance long into the night,
The other ghost notes with no discernible pitch.

Watching the leaves turn from greens to reds,
Like traffic lights but few stop and wait a while.
One a sight of natural beauty for all the senses,
The other to warn of man made jungle dangers.

Seeing the leaves are individual shapes and sizes,
Like all human beings are all over Planet Earth.
One a mixture that few recognise the differences,
The other many want to change to look the same.

Look as well as listen, watch and see this autumn,
Like a child experiencing its magic for the first time.
One will awaken your senses to the whole world,
The other will bring you happiness outside and in.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Autumn in Pitlochry