THE MEANING OF LIFE

He came with love in his heart for every living thing. His innocence had been untouched and his light force shone so bright that crowds gathered to see him but, more importantly, to feel his warmth. By gazing upon him they were somehow changed. “Was this the Messiah?” they mumbled to each other in hushed tones lest they be deemed blasphemous by some. For some can find darkness in every hope, every wish, every prayer.

And when this man spoke it brought some to their knees, others to tears. It was as if the calmness in his voice could heal every hurt and fear that had weighed them down and they were now somehow lighter.

The taking away of such anguish even brought back sight to the blind. As if all they had needed was to believe in something and were being granted the ability to see the world anew. Men who had walked too many lonely dead end loveless roads and were now crippled, found that they could walk again. And after those first awkward unsure steps they inched closer and closer to him growing more confident and accepted with each one until they were in his arms, and the safety and strength  of unconditional love made them sob for the joy of each precious moment. Time that they had, until now, misinterpreted and cursed for their burdens, and wasted, was now rediscovered and rejoiced over. All things were possible again.

In his face they saw no judgement, no impatience, no pity, only love. And his love became contagious among the people and they sang his praises.

He had not come to destroy the Romans, or hand out weapons, or preach hate. He was here to give meaning to our lives. What was the meaning of life? Love. For love opens the door to joy. And its light extinguishes all shadows.

But there were those, the shadow people, who were angered by us learning the meaning of existence and saw that this teaching could undermine their power over us. For they ruled by fear and threats, both of which were rendered insignificant when the masses walked proudly in the sun again unchained from their own mental limitations.

So they arrested this man, this dangerous man, beat him, whipped him, ridiculed him and his suffering, and sentenced him to an agonising death for the crime of telling us to love and forgive each other.

And in his final conscious moments he forgave those who had plotted his death, and the ignorant who had killed him. To this day it remains the greatest triumph of the human spirit.

Perhaps he was drawing evil into the light so that the world could recognise its face?

 
(C) Frank Howson 2019

Painting by Frank Howson (c) 2019

Advertisements

WE DO WHAT WE DO

We turned the jungle
Into Park Avenue
I remade my face
Till I looked like you
I killed my brother
Now I bear this scar
We know everything
But who we are

It’s none of your business
What’s it to you?
We follow orders
We do what we do

We praise the traitors
And we rendezvous
We exchange secrets
And call it a coup
You broke my spirit
When you stole my heart
Now where do we end
And why did we start?

It’s none of your business
What’s it to you?
We follow orders
We do what we do

We burn our bridges
And we kill our fire
You have trashed my name
You make a good little liar
I have your photo
Here beside my grudge
You were my jury
Now I be your judge

 

(c) Frank Howson 2019

artwork by Frank Howson (c) 2018

I HURT YOU TOO

I’m so sorry
For who I was
There were reasons
Not just because
It’s convenient
To blame my youth
It takes a lifetime
To accept the truth

I was drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a broken child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

We can’t go back
And mend the breaks
We forget the good times
But not mistakes
It’s the price I pay
For losing you
The ties the bind us
Any fool can undo

I was drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a lost child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

There was a time
When I was almost home
But then I opened my mouth
To find I’m all alone
I feel I’m in a prison
For my father’s sins
A place you can’t get out
Once you’re in

I am drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a broken child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

 

(c) Frank Howson 2019

LOVE ME TO DEATH

I’ve been holding out
Thinkin’ you’d let go
But your shadow tails me
To faraway parts of my heart
In those dark rooms you call home
Me? I’ve stopped waiting for our Messiah’s return
And watch the football
As well as all the moves you make
In your quest to break me with jealousy
But haven’t you hurt me enough?
Don’t you feel pity?
Sometimes?
For your pathetic victims
Whose only crime was trusting you enough to love?
You could’ve warned me
But I guess you didn’t love me enough to do so
Or perhaps it’s more fun
To see a fool stumble
Fall
And get up with nowhere to go
His dignity in tatters
As you snigger at his back
Don’t you know I can’t go home anymore?
My parents are gone
There’s nowhere I can turn
No unconditional arms to hold me
When I break
No comforting whispers in my ear, “It’s alright, darling…It’s alright”
So forgive me
If I’ve become tough
And distant
And my eyes glaze
When you want them to connect
I just fear that one tear
Could burst the dam
And I may not be able to stop
And that would be embarrassing
At any age
Don’t you think?
I remember every word you ever threw at me
I wear them like scars on my skin
Each stab wound
Designed to teach me
How mortal  I am
You almost loved me to death
But it’s cool
I ain’t complainin’
The crops look good
And it’s rainin’
Nothing to fear
Unless it floods
I just watched another cowboy movie
To get my mind off you
But it came out all wrong
And reminded me of us
The good guys got away
The credits rolled and they played a song
A cheap one
And I got to wondering
Just who the savages were
History is written by liars
Then over-written by Hollywood hacks
And this is our foundation for everything we hold to be true
Thus
They have rendered us insane
Born into bullshit
Then fed it on a daily basis
Our judgements and decisions
Are bound to be inadmissible
But that doesn’t stop us
For our skin is white
And superiority is thy name
Although our house of cards is crumbling
I don’t blame you, baby
You were poisoned at birth
Just like me
We just got it all wrong
That’s all
And sometimes when the surface noise dies down
And I am calm enough
To reach inside of me
And find the best of who I could be
I still love you, baby
I still love you
And care
For you

 
(C) Frank Howson 2019

 

photograph by Vanessa Allan

I’VE FALLEN FOR YOU

I’ve fallen so much
On my way to nowhere
But I stuck out my chin
And pretended not to care

I closed my heart
To the harm people do
So please don’t tell me
That I’ve fallen for you

I’ve known you so long
That I cancelled you out
But it’s beyond Einstein
What this love is all about

How high the stars?
Why is the sky so blue?
‘Cause nothin’ makes sense
Since I’ve fallen for you

I fear it’s a dream
And like other dreams will end
And I will awaken
To find you just a friend

I shut my eyes
But my heart can still see
As it searches for signs
That you’ve fallen for me

 
(C) Frank Howson 2019

THE DARK AGES

Sitting in the dark ages
Of this room
As words and faces circle me
From other times
When the sun did shine
And my power could light a block
Everywhere my eyes fall in my room
They fall upon trinkets, books, photographs, ornaments and other such mementos of that other life
Every one of them priceless
To me
The first gift I ever bought my mother out of my own pocket money
The first book I ever read
Gifts from past loves
The handful of the only letters my father ever wrote
Addressed to his prodigal son
Filled with spelling and grammatical mistakes but his humour and heart in each word
And I wouldn’t sell them for millions
Of course, once I die
Most of this stuff will just be gathered up and thrown in the local tip
People won’t realise, or care, what each item meant to me
And the story behind them
My personal Rosebuds
I have kept so many of these treasures
That it’s getting difficult to move
And I know they are weighing me down to this earth
But what can I do?
Throw them out?
It would certainly lighten my load
But at the same time add more weight to my heart than what they added to Phar Lap’s saddle bags
So here I am
Stuck in the dark ages
The shadowy silence
Of another night
Spent with well-meaning ghosts
That mean me no harm
And in my last breath before falling into sleep I thank them for their attendance
And for caring
As much as I do

(C) Frank Howson 2019

SURVIVAL OF THE SICKEST

“What is mine is mine and what is yours is mine too.” That attitude has pretty much brought the world to its knees. So much childish behaviour from so many allegedly brilliant human beings through the ages. But very few of us ever grow up, really, we just just become bigger children and dress more in keeping with what is expected of adults so we can get a pay cheque.

Marriages are broken because “You looked at that woman longer than you looked at me.” Friendships are destroyed because “I thought you were my friend but you stole from me. And I gave you so much!” Countries go to war because “We have bigger weapons than yours and we need someone to bow down to us so we feel important.” We see beauty in the landscape of the world and feel that something superior to us must’ve created it so we get envious and cut down the trees, pave the ground, damn the rivers, use the oceans as a rubbish dump, and build skyscrapers that are monuments to our own ego. “Look what we can do!”

But then again, calling all that childish is an insult to most children. It is, in fact, the very worst of us. At any age. Reducing the spirituality of things that there are no answers for to something we can dissect and misunderstand. Men worship at the stagnant pool of their own reflection while women get sexually excited by bank accounts and are seduced into a lifelong prison of their own making. We always aim so low. The bottom feeders. Men and women have lost their identity and their way. The first casualty was romance. Today we don’t have time for that. Let alone getting to know someone. We just want an app that tells us what street corner  you’re on and if you have 30 minutes to spare. Sex is no longer intimate. Not like a kiss used to be. Nudity is no longer revealing. Not like a conversation is. And real life is play acting the persona you think will go over best to achieve what you crave. But then the more you get the less it means until you realise it’s all been for nothing. You have nothing. You are nothing. Your relationships are nothing. Your forecast is nothing for there is nothing you can take from this life that you’ve given so little to.

God, that genius in the sky, has given us free will in which to entrap ourselves.

“It’s not fair!…it’s not fair!” We scream as we run hatless through deserted streets trying to find eyes that will look upon us with some pity for the self-inflicted mess we have found ourselves in. But we are alone. As we have always really been. And that realisation kills more than all the troops Caesar commanded.

There was a man from humble beginnings, some say a broken home, who came forward and told us he had the answer. Which, in a nutshell, was this – All we had to do was love each other, and do the right thing, and we would be filled with such an inner joy we’d think we were in heaven.

We killed him. He was obviously a lunatic. And dangerous to our view of the world and each other. Besides, his concept had nothing to  do with anything. There was no money in it. And money is the only way we can put a value on something.

After that, every few decades threw up another messianic lunatic that told us “all we need is love.” But no. All we needed, it seemed, was to kill these misguided lunatics and then we felt safe again.

Now we have evolved and have TV shows like “Survivor” that teach us, and the younger generation, that if you pretend to be someone you’re not, and lie, and plot, and betray the people you’ve hoodwinked into thinking you’re their friend, you emerge as the winner. The producers will bestow riches upon you and for 15 minutes you will be a star.

This of course confirms that the world has entered the end game and at night, if you have any spirit left, you may hear the faraway faint cries of thousands of broken, despairing messiahs who died in vain thinking they could make a difference.

I believe that the creatures of the earth have lodged a petition with the United Nations documenting their outrage at being labeled “animals” and that the title rightfully belongs to us.

Who among us could argue with that?

(C) Frank Howson