Chorca Dhuibhne Calls Us Back
Leaving a heavy London
From the diaspora back to the heartland
And meeting my companion en route
We are tired and weary from our daily tasks
Chorca Dhuibhne calls us back
Giving a heady sense of pleasure
The shepherd is home from the hill
The farmer is back from the bog
This magnificent peninsula of Mountain bog and field
Jutting coastline beaten by the powerful turquoise waves
With white water crests washing the shore
Humbles us at the power of the ocean
The vast openness of the land.
Hillside kissing the sky
Air is spun with a sensual mist.
Nearby in OFlahertys pub a song is sung of Dingle Bay
In visiting Gallerus Oratory,
We explore our origins in Mesolithic period
A perfectly crafted unique stone building
Fuels the imagination to see in our minds eye
The past and the present side by side
Being in the moment versus the daily sensibilities
Causes conflict and anger spills over
But there is also the chance to speak openly words of hope .
That God so loved us that he sent his son as a sacrifice to redeem us all.
We gradually unwind;
People are friendly not so buzzing busy
Irish can be heard as we are in the heart of the gaeltacht
Meeting old friends and dear relatives fills us with joy and sadness
Some we had not seen in 30 year
Childhoods memories are revisited and renewed.
The lament of the piper plays Carrigfergus
Breaking bread with family relatives
I love this land and these people
And then paused in a silent
moment the heart greaves
And words eventually fail us all
Joe Kelly April 2008
The University of Adversity
I went to the university of adversity
I took a BA in life skills
The course was extremely demanding
In fact it took me to my very edge
The curriculum was the very finest
And I was at the very centre of the learning process
The learning curve could not have been steeper
My graduation was my realisation
Having successfully completed the course
I am confident that with Gods help I can meet
Whatever obstacles I come across
And make more progress
This university was not my first choice.
But having graduated I have no regrets
And would encourage other graduates to fly the flag
Joe Kelly June 2005
The heart, heavy, twisted, knotted
Once together, at once diverged
You wouldn't believe what emerged
This girl fell down, impact!
My goodness" you crater what have you done?"
The legs carried out where the thought process raced to
Ran into the arms of the mind-numbing care of you
Did you hear voices? Was there somebody there with you
Dark images? Prompts? Suggestion?
I'm afraid of you
What did you say? Hell. No.
What did you do?
Not to worry now, we'll take care of you.
Take these tablets (x4)
The only voice I hear now
Resonates in my mind
Which you want to chain
Heaven forbid explore; find
But I had you sussed, your airs and graces
Wild horses may take me
But you - ain't a chance mate
Keep lookin', next victim
Perhaps easier than I
You - good grief - I just have to sigh
You may walk the walk
I ain't talking the talk,
These feathers, too bright, no bat!
Confined, no thanks, it's as simple as that
So listen and hear as I make my plea
"I AM ME"
Like it or loath it
I ain't pleasin' thee.
I refused the stew, leaves a metallic residue
" The remedy"
Luckily, I found my true melody
The motorway of life; quick! next exit,
And I am one who chose the boreens, ( boreens are an Irish expression for small dirt roads)
winding and finding, I found true nature
The air; my tonic, my senses awaken
Lydia Walsh Yildirim, MindFreedom Ireland
The Glass Enclosure
My black tongue finds no taste in its smoothness,
And there is nothing to see
Except when the sun, at certain angles,
Flashes and breaks into rainbow patterns.
But there it is all the time,
Marking the distance between us.
The others graze so close sometimes
I hear their rasping breath,
Smell their familiarity in the Pennine air,
See their otherwise vacant eyes questioning.
Other times they range away together
To distant, rocky, limestone slopes,
Whose views I can only imagine,
Their tiny bearing calls riding the thin wind.
Water is brought to me, and fodder too,
For now the grass is near cropped out.
Heavy boots fall certain and muddy
Within the fence I can only push against.
And there it is all the time,
Marking the difference between us.
Last night I dreamt of wandering with the flock
On a high plain far from Yorkshires hills.
Jostled in the mythering crowd, I felt content
With the stench of fetid wool and grassy breath.
A lamb was outlined on a nearby crag,
Backlit by rays of an early sun,
Its heartbeat drew us close like a tender drum,
Its fleece of fire
Like burning glass.
Terry Simpson, December 2006
The Long Voyage
The journey always seems too far,
Across uncertain bays,
With strangers whose faces are hidden,
The sea inseparable from the sky,
Time inconsistent as dreaming.
We hear but do not see or know the circling birds.
In the dark times,
When the best forget how to hope,
And fade away from us,
Moving quickly into the spaces
Like galaxies, faster than light can return,
How will we remember?
We must learn to like ourselves,
For without this we are brittle,
exposed as we cross the open ground,
forced into futile activity
by our autocratic thinking.
We must like ourselves enough to remember everything.
We must like ourselves especially when we fail,
abandoning dreams of rescue,
imagining the cavalry was massacred,
the boat sank, the sentry was a traitor.
We have to go on anyway.
We must know what we did then was the best we could.
We must like ourselves
when we wake up, and when we lie down
drunk beneath the stars, unloved and alone,
We must know our divinity
is even then glowing like wild isotopes.
We must learn to accept our darkness as well as our light.
Those to come will marvel at our voyage
From homes by a peaceful fire,
As they harvest a world where madness
Is banished, because understood.
'They learned to like themselves, and so they survived
those bitter storms, the darkest parts of the voyage.'
Rain and Dirt
I would not need no CBT,
Nor CPA nor ECT,
The rain and dirt
Enough for me
Because when I woke up this morning
beads of rain from the gutter next to my window
were each unique
and I had to stay and watch each one
Because the carpet in my hall
is quiet red flowers glowing in an amber forest
and my cat is hungry
with eyes of green eternity
Because of clouds
and because the shadows of trees
on August evenings against crumbling Chapeltown walls
are unframed artworks
dying at nightfall in the void
Because of tomatoes, rain
and the possibility of understanding time
but mostly because there are giraffes
I will be unable to attend this mornings meeting of the Joint Commissioning Service Planning Team Sub Committee
(For Peter Munn, who once claimed Id said that advocacy is the jewel in the crown of the user movement. That got me to thinking what else it might be!)
Advocacy is a lion
In the safari park of the user movement,
A spoonful of Demerara
In a survivors cup of coffee,
A blackbird singing
In the systems night.
Advocacy is a bun
In the user movements oven,
in the sea of empowerment,
A diamond on the sole
Of a survivors shoe.
Advocacy is a Beckham free kick
Accurately placed in the final minute
Of a goalless draw
Between the user movement and the system
goes by wind:
then who understands
of the wind?
The wind-warrior said:
is in the effect
and the effect,
is affecting the cause.
by Odi Oquosa