Tag Archives: hope

But

I love you but..    i’m sorry but.   The apology lies flailing. But the big butts of life, use the but. The but to push the buttons. The buttons that zap The buttons that shock. The but of the buttons used by the butts. Butter me up and tear me down with a but. A three letter word. Three letters with the strength to topple, to tumble to destroy. I love big Butts and I cannot lie. Lie . Lie with your your but. Your new bed of buts. May the pillow cradle your head. Sing you to sleep but. But what. The butt of a joke told by a but of buts. The butter melts. The butter rams the heart. Breaks the silence. Shatters the kind. The heart exploding from too much butter. Saccharine smiles. Sweet sticky toffee oozing with butter. Sweet to the tongue. Acid to the soul. Push the buttons. Start your engine. Off button On button. But But But. I love you but. Im sorry but. But to blame is a short slide in a pool of butter. Slippery floors . Watch your. step. Step on a crack break the back. The back of the truth. The backbone of love. tTrying to see through a smear of butter. Churning. Churning. Turning. Turning lies to truth with push of the button. The button. The butter the but of the butt.

Kompa Makes Me Laugh

When I was working I always gave money to people on the street. I believed, that I believed, that we were all only one step away from being in their place. I did truly believe that I believed that, however I realize that it was a concept, that in the deep recesses of my mind, I did not truly embrace. How did I come to this realization? Each morning, before I went to work, I used to go out before the sun got up to walk Kompa. It was my meditative time. I did it before the sun got up because although I do not like to run, I love to dance. So every morning  before the break of dawn I put on my head phones and out we went to dance in the dark.  There is a running track at the end of my street, and each morning I could be seen as a shadow dancing with pure abandon. A dancing fool. Add to it singing at the top of my lungs. It was glorious. Kompa ran along side and sometimes he joined in the dancing. It was the best part of my day. When I lost the work that I went to daily, I stopped going out for my morning dance. I stopped because I felt ashamed. Ashamed of my situation. Ashamed that I could not find work Ashamed that I had lost my identity.

This morning, I realized that the shame I felt was a judgement. A judgement of not only myself, but also of everybody else who found themselves in dire straits. I always believed I would never  really truly be in this position. Now I see we are all one step away. It takes one second to sink the boat that carries us. That thought is sobering but it is also liberating.

As I write this I have just returned form my morning dance. My first in months. It was great. Dancing and singing  in the rain with Kompa. As we were making our way home, still dancing, Kompa stopped. I turned to see what he was doing. He was smelling a bunch of begonias. Kompa, my funny endearing companion had stopped to smell the flowers. In his wisdom he reminded me, just as we are one step form disaster, we are also only one step away from beauty. Ahhh that Kompa, He always makes me laugh.

Kompa as always Makes me Laaugh

After hours upon hours of relentless rain the sun is shining. Even the new tentative blades of grass seem to be dancing in the aftermath. It is funny how we do not embrace the rain in our lives. The literal rain and figurative. Unemployment is akin to rain. You are limited in your movement, you wait for it to let up and you dream of sunshine. I think just as the rain has made the grass dance, this period of downpour in my life will make me sing. Oh wait how did Kompa make me laugh that ties into this. The biggest, and I mean the biggest and the muddiest puddle  to be found in this vast city, was the one that Kompa chose not only step into, but to splash and celebrate with abandon. As always Kompa makes me laugh.

Kompa Makes me Laugh

Have you ever stopped to listen to the sounds as you pour your first cup of coffee in the morning. The musical splash as the hot liquid hits the bottom of the eager cup. The subdued moan as the cold cream mingles with the aromatic brew. The slight melting sound as when the sugar tumbles to the centre and then the rhythmic dance of the spoon when you mix the three ingredients into that perfect concoction that beckons you with its coquettish swirl. Ahhh coffee. Even on the days where I have no job to go to, this first cup of coffee offers me the hope that today may be the day. Today will be the day that my cell phone rings. Today will be the day that my “now” becomes filled with schedules and deadlines.

I walk from the kitchen to the living room carefully cradling my perfect cup of coffee, ready to find my new perfect opportunity. As I am about to settle in for my first sip I hear the familiar sound of toenails on the hardwood floor, coming at my a little too eagerly.

Next moment. I am wearing my perfect coffee. My first instinct is annoyance but then I look into those huge brown eyes and as always Kompa makes me laugh.