You need to go it alone sometimes

Stop coming to me
You see
I cannot provide your worth
The troubles you give birth to
Are only unearthed due
To your need to feed on sterile seeds
Sown by lips tipped to hone their words
To be heard by you as uplifting
All while sifting for weakness in the bleakness 
You are looking to be rescued from

You cry at the breeze
To seize on passing guilt
Houses built around your cries
Burn in fires you lit just to sit in ashes
As gashes freshly burned
Earn more pity 
Than the gritty path to respect
Flecked with dignity

I care not
For your waning confidence 
When your reigning arrogance
Isolates and infuriates 
Dictating that I should hold your hand
On the path to grandeur
As a voyeur
Of the success you will discard
If times ever get hard for you

Look in the mirror
It has never been clearer 
Who should help pull you through
The stews you throw yourself into
I am tired
I once desired to assist
But now I desist
You missed the window for my assistance
And this distance
Will not grow shorter
Until you test the waters
Of inner wealth
Walk the road of health
And start helping yourself

Some, not all, leaves nothing

The game is over now and I am confused as to why everyone continues to speak about it. It was a good game, a close game, a tough game, and I enjoyed every moment of it, but my life has moved past it, resumed the search for more immersion. The players on the field performed brilliantly and for a moment there, I was envious of their ability and acclaim, but they were players and my eyes the stage. The show is over now; the strength of the players has not made those around me appear weaker.

I put the book down some time ago now and I am confused as to why everyone continues to speak about it. It was a great book, a captivating read, a satisfying climax, and I enjoyed every page of it, but my life has moved past it, acknowledged the characters as fictional and resumed the search for more immersion. The characters were brave and honourable and for a moment there, I would have liked to walk their world beside them, but they were actors and my imagination the set. The show is over now; the courage of the actors has not tinged those around me with cowardice.

The movie’s credits have ceased rolling now and I am confused as to why everyone continues to speak about it. It was an amazing film, an end-to-end thriller with believable drama and over the top action, and I enjoyed every frame of it, but my life has moved past it, praised the director for the stunning execution and resumed the search for more immersion. The plot was gripping, the people gorgeous, and for a moment there, I cared for it all like my own homeland and family, but the landscape was drawn in a screenplay and the lines were all scripted. The show is over now; the absence of studio lighting has not made my garden less vibrant or my friends less beautiful.

Our fingers have stopped typing, our pens idle now, and I am confused as to why everyone continues to speak about it. I wrote myself though good times, rhymed myself through hard times and I enjoyed every letter of it, but my life has moved past it, appended the last period and resumed the search for more immersion. The flow was cathartic, the imagery encapsulating, and for a moment there, I was surrounded by the colours I invented, but the hues were all projections, fantastical or embellished from memory. The show is over now; the world is still visible without my pencilled outlines.

Our lips have stopped meeting now and I am confused as to why you no longer speak about it. We embraced for minutes that lasted ours, shared passionate hours that passed in minutes, and I have enjoyed every breath and shiver of it, but your life has moved past it, wiped the sweat of desire from its brow and resumed the search for more immersion. Our exertion weakened beside the players in the game,  our romance tawdry beside the couple in the novel, our appearance washed out beside the make-up in the feature, and our love lacking beside notes scribbled in your margins. This show is not over and yet it is the topic of least discussion; experienced, accepted, noted and left to fade in the light pulsing from momentary acts in ethereal plays.

While the show goes on I live every line. Our show goes on but my monologue is lost amid murmurs of scenes long past.

Happiness is harder

It is harder to write when your hands are cupping happiness and, far outside the shining barrier of your unconscious smile, negativity is a thing happening to other people. But harder is not a bad thing, harder is not a reason to shake a fist at the challenge and force contentment to escape through tight gaps in clenched fingers. Harder builds the muscles in your forearms, strengthens the tendons in your wrists, supports you from behind and allows you to carry the weight of the comfort in clenched teeth while using fingertips to jot down lines that do not come easily. Ideas do not disappear when elation flashes colour into the world, words simply camouflage themselves so that you must work to find them, so that when found and arranged, the idea they describe comes with accomplishment that glows in unison with the vibrancy you hold between grinning lips. If you find yourself surrounded by satisfaction, do not burst that bubble by lamenting a loss of muse, by cloaking yourself in pity so that words replace the ecstasy you held in your hands. Relish the challenge of chasing what used to be delivered to you and increase your fitness by carrying happiness and inspiration at the same time. It is harder but harder is not a bad thing.

How Tumblr changed a life

Come, take my hand. No, really, take it. Come on! Why be so weird about it? Okay, fine. Stay close though because we’re going on a journey and I’ve got a stiff neck so won’t be able to look around to see if you’re there. Sure you don’t want to take my hand? Well, okay then, just remember it’s here if you change your mind.

We’re taking a trip through time and cyberspace — mostly just time though because this tale involves an awful lot of it; both wasted and productive —  to see how a socially awkward Australian became a socially awkward Australian who also writes a bit. Steady your nerves and prepare yourself because this adventure will be filled with curiosity, apathy, bitterness, elation, contempt, adoration, despair and koalas.

Let’s begin by wandering backwards along the calendar path, past the three hundred and sixty-six days, around the sonnets and haiku, through the gardens of free verse, and into the gallery of procrastination. To the left you’ll see five hundred and fourteen original posts and if you take a moment to gaze off to the right, you will notice the five thousand, three hundred and fifty-three posts that have captured a heart. If you listen closely you might be able to hear a crowd’s worth of whispers and shuffling; that would be coming from the two and a half thousand people following us as we travel — don’t worry about them though, they’re some of the most wonderful people in the world.

We’re almost there now. Are you okay? You’re wheezing a little bit. Sure, we can stop here for a breather. You’ve actually picked a pretty good place to pause because we’re right in front of post number one, the one that started it all. It’s nothing special really but if you’re observant — I know you’re observant — you’ll see that the words from this post actually appear about ninety days from here as the lyrics of a catchy tune. Granted, it’s an acquired taste, that sound, but I love it.

Alright, that’s enough resting, let’s keep going. You ready to take my hand now— no? Okay. As we’ve passed the first post you’ll have noticed that we’re wandering through a whole lot of emptiness now. The reason for this is because even though everything was started by the first post, this path was created several months before those words came into existence. Don’t worry though, we’re not going all the way back to that point because there’s nothing to see there—

Look! There he is now. He’s why I dragged you along here. A quiet Australian guy, he created this path a long time ago so he could reserve a specific username on what he thought would become a very popular place for online wanderers to tread.  

Right now he’s in a bit of a limbo stage. Not long ago his girlfriend dumped him and his serene period of coasting through life was brought to an end. During and after the break-up he had a lot of things to say but didn’t actually want to say them to anybody because, well, he knew people generally don’t like having to deal with heartbroken sappiness. He’s got a few things written down, a few drafts saved, a few notes hidden from public view on Facebook. Then one day, he wrote something that although still sad and whiny, wasn’t completely bad. He put that piece in a Facebook Note and was surprised. Very surprised. People liked it.

He continued doing this for a while and started to think that maybe his friends weren’t lying, started to think that he would be interested to see what other people — those he hadn’t met yet — thought of these poems he was spinning out. And that’s where we are now. He’s just about to post that first piece because he remembered that a long time ago, he had reserved a username on a social blogging website called, Tumblr. You see? You see why I brought you along now? It’s because we’re following the path of how Tumblr became such an important part of this Australian guy’s life. Take my hand now? Oh, okay.

Look, he’s about to post that first piece now. Watch what happens, this is great.

…

Nothing! Nothing happens. I know, right? Absolute crickets. The look on his face is priceless, like a mix between complete disillusionment and curiosity at what he did wrong. He just leaves it there though as he assumes people will eventually discover it — hint: nobody does. After a few more of these silent posts, he stumbles upon a place — he’s already in the place but he finds a place inside the place — where he finds other people just like him, people hoping to see how their writing affects others. Look, there he is introducing himself to the first friends he’ll make on Tumblr. He’s so cute and new to this. Oh, okay, he’s new to this then.

Look what happens when he posts now. People are starting to like it. Hell, some people are even reblogging it to show other people. Let’s get in close for a moment. Okay, take a look into his eyes. See that dull throbbing light and the slightly glassy sheen? Yeah, that’s the addiction beginning. He’s found friends, he’s found readers and he’s found things to read. He’s settling in for the long haul. He’s so fun to watch at the moment, he’s talking with people, making fun of them through replies. There’s even an entire month of cicada talk because he was so glad to find someone else who understands the ferocity of the noise they make.

We’ll skip forward a month or so now. He continues posting and finding new friends, readers and things to read. People are complimenting his rhyming word-play and he’s got some ideas about things he wants to achieve. That addiction is still showing and he’s looking a little surprised out how things have panned out, he never thought he would actually start calling himself a writer. Watch him now, see him scratching his head and wondering why a lot of new people have started following him? He was featured. He’s aware of what a feature is but not really expecting to get one so soon. He continues posting; at least once a day, even while working sometimes.

Come on, you can go back and read all his old pieces later, we have to skip to a rather important moment now. See that? Isn’t it pretty? No? Not really your style, makes it too hard to read? Oh, fair enough that. What you’re looking at is something that he discovered he could do, he could shape his poems into representations of the poem’s subject. He doesn’t know it at the moment, but this form of poetry will earn him quite a few fans — and many detractors too — and see him approached by many people asking if he has ever thought of putting together a book. He laughed it off at first. …

Come on! Why are you so slow? Take my hand— still no? Here he is announcing that he has self-published a book. It goes on to sell hundreds of pages and become the best selling, self-published book in his immediate family. You can probably see the confusion in his eyes now — the addiction is still there too —and that’s because he’s not sick of it yet. If we had followed this path back a few more years we would have seen that he was great at starting things and then losing interest. This particular interest just keeps making him come back to the wonderful place that started it all, Tumblr.

We’ll slow down a little now and watch as he starts experimenting with his concrete poetry and begins writing more prosaic work, investing more and more time into the writing. Even though he’s posting less frequently now, the addiction for reading is still there, look, he spends as much time on Tumblr as ever.

D’aww, here he is meeting a lovely girl and shooting the shit with a snarky bitch, you can tell he’s constantly amazed at how close he has grown to the people he’s found on Tumblr — he used to believe online entities couldn’t really illicit real-world feelings — and the addiction still burns.

And here we are back at the beginning, or the present, but definitely not the end. I know we’ve rushed through but I would have taken longer if you had decided to hold my hand. Still no? Okay.

Where did he go, you ask? Hi, my name’s Luke — or Rakuli —, nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me show you how Tumblr changed my life and transformed me from an awkward Australian into an awkward Australian that writes a bit.

My heart wept

Those last words were sadness
My heart wept at an image —
    You curling up to sleep,
    sheets dampened by pooling tears

Too far to hold your hair back
My heart wept at an image —
    You blinded by errant strands,
    tassels twisted from tensed fingers

No way to say my last thought
My heart wept at an image —
    My words, superficial, jested, 
    echoing between your sobs, muffled under pillows

Those last words were sadness
My heart wept at an image —
    My blissful, whispered I love you
    disappearing in empty silence 

Those last words should return
Replaced with those to make hearts leap —
    An image to carry
    should last words be last 

My advice on giving advice

Advice (noun)

1. Guidance or recommendations concerning prudent future action, typically given by someone regarded as knowledgeable or authoritative.
2. Information; news.

What a wonderful word, what a wonderful concept. Information shared and distributed with no implicit or explicit requirements for acceptance; guidance offered in the hope it will useful but not under the pretense that it will be taken; recommendations, outlines, things to try; not mandatory, not ruling, not commanding.

Why then, does advice so often start a fight? Not an argument, not a debate, a fight — sometimes even a war. Why should insight — shared voluntarily or at request — bring with it such division and animosity?

I cannot say with certainty — my opinion has been developed from observational evidence only — but I believe most controversy is sparked either by incorrectly delivered or incorrectly labelled advice; advice delivered in a manner that makes it seem a declaration of rules, laws or commandments -or- rules, laws and commandments incorrectly labelled as advice.

I am a very non-confrontational person — this is not saying that I simply back down or let the world walk over me; I support my opinions strongly — and as a result I have come up with ways of delivering guidance that rarely, if ever, lead to conflict. Now, thanks to the wonder of free speech and internet, I would like to offer some of my advice for giving advice.

1. Delivering advice is tricky and, even if you would carry your recommendations to the grave with you, some people will not accept it and sometimes flat-out disagree. Remembering the difference between a healthy debate and a heated argument is important. If your advice is not accepted, there is no harm in rephrasing and offering it again — this will let you know if the rejection was from lack of comprehension — but it is a good idea to avoid simply declaring somebody wrong because they disagree. You can try adding weight with additional arguments, but if you find that you cannot accept their refusal to accept, perhaps “advice” was not the best way to label your information.
2. Limiting the use of forcing words and phrases (example: should, must, have to) is a great way to keep people at ease. If your advice is peppered with commanding words and phrases, the line between piece of advice and this is an order/ultimatum can blur, leading to your advice recipient taking up a defensive position. If they believe their choices have been boiled down to the binary “My way or Your way,” a defensive person can go from being ninety percent confident in their stance to one hundred percent confident in their stance. To say the human mind is complex is to understate it completely. Some interesting information on the strange ways the brain works can be garnered by looking into concepts like Attitude Polarisation and Confirmation Bias.
3. When highlighting benefits through comparison, it is usually better to define the comparisons explicitly rather than lumping it all in a collective generalisation. As advice is often more subjective than objective, it is also recommended that the subjectivity of your statements be declared.
   
   To use a classic internet example:
   
   ”Oh, you would like to know whether to read Harry Potter or Twilight? Definitely go for Harry Potter because it has a better storyline and characters are more likeable.”
   
   Statements similar to that above, although seemingly innocent, have been the fuel for fighting on social networks and forums for years.
   
   ”Oh, you would like to know whether to read Harry Potter or Twilight? Personally, I have enjoyed the storyline and characters in Harry Potter more than I have those in Twilight. I would suggest Harry Potter.”
   
   The above will most certainly not stop all debate in its tracks, but it removes a lot of the potential for argument. The recommendation is given as a subjective suggestion right alongside a specific reason.
4. When defining rules, try to keep them as rules of the advice or rules stated subjectively, rather than blanket rules.
   
   Instead of:
   ”Never use contractions in formal writing.”
   
   Try:
   ”When I write formally, I make it a rule to not use contractions.”
5. Taking the time hear and respond to objections can help you strengthen your case. Refusing amicable discussion, or not providing a forum for it, can make even the best advice seem overbearing. There will be cases where your point needs to be heeded as a whole or not at all, but often, taking the time to discuss and compromise can see advice flowing in both directions and, even if both parties remain on their respective black and white sides, the resulting understanding can be invaluable.
6. Sometimes, you may just have to discontinue advising someone. You may think you are offering the best alternative and your frustration levels will rise because you feel the other party is worse-off because of it, but advice, whether it is to be given or received, cannot be forced onto someone if they do not wish to heed it. Sometimes it is their loss, even from an objective viewpoint, but as soon as advice starts being forced, it is no longer advice.

Using these strategies — or combinations of them; remember that almost everything has an exception — I have worked selling telephony products door-to-door, on the telephone as the complaints supervisor, for an airline as the person who deals with the “escalated” (read: irate and unhappy) customer situations, and I am currently in a position where I must advise my superiors regularly on technical points that they do not immediately understand. All of these positions require advising people to change something that they are/were doing, and in the overwhelming majority of cases, this advice has been well received even when it is not taken.

Sometimes, conflicts cannot be avoided, and sometimes, advice is misread regardless of how careful you are when offering it. But most times, advice is just advice, and when delivered in a guiding way, will not start a war.

(Source: blog.rakuli.com)