Bonus Poems announcement:

In order for the Litany of Varied Experience to TRULY be a VARIED EXPERIENCE everything must be experienced 😊

Both what is, and what isn’t. What could be, and what could never be. Even what should never be, often is.

But that’s ok. Cos that means you can learn from others and their experiences, even if you do not deem them correct or even it they are not correct. Because ultimately correctness in allowing others to correct themselves as they grow. Life is a symmetric experience both being and not being everything – all at once!

For that reason it is only fair and loving to allow others see things through the eyes of others, even if those others have experiences or ideas they could share that you personally jar with.

I’ll be collaborating with Grim on more poems for Litany of Varied Experiences to have a bonus Tour Edition while also truly open sourcing this concept in a sequel with poems sourced on WriteOutLoud and other online poetry sources to find the best poems that represent life and how it’s experienced and the ideas we have about that.

But to both prove the exception to and be the rule, I shall share this poem which is both.

I’m thinking at the speed of thought,

for all that choice has wrought.

For everything must be and not be

in order for anything to be or not be.

That, is the question?

Rhetorical notions of Coptics and Potions,

everything’s part of the game.

Now do we factory reset

over the things we regret?

Or do we just


As that’s the only way to

prove that love’s served on a silver platter.

I guess we’re all sweetheart bastards in the eyes of the beloved.

But the most loved

is thee ❤️❤️❤️

Cos everything means nothing if nothing can mean anything 😊🔮☝️😘

NaPoWriMo Day 30: Making History

I used the official prompt of an interesting fact and began with the story of how I took a loose brick from Emperor Hadrian’s imperial palace at Villa Adriana, and from there created this final piece of my Litany Of Varied Experiences.


Amongst the cascades of antiquity
where Villa Adriana resides.
This erstwhile artist wanderer
built castles from the sands of time.

I took a brick from his imperial palace
so I could build my own.
While I purchased another from Berlin,
alas that wall was torn.

I engorge myself on history,
as civilisations rise and fall.
Yet I shall build my empire
from remnants of them all.

I’ll take the best
and leave the rest,
that’s always been my mantra.
If loose lips sink ships,
I pour from a titanic decanter.

For I know nothing
but truth itself,
at least truth as I see it.

Many people study history,
but me?
I choose to be it.

So come along on this journey,
and follow my many-bricked road.
As I tap my heels,
beg, borrow and steal…
for there’s no place like home.

NaPoWriMo Day 29: The Age of the Indigo Angel

Look at what you’ve achieved already.

Published poet,
successful promoter.
Creative hedonist,
occasional toker.

Community activist,
and visionary.
Even in the shadows,
you’ve often helped many.

You’ve travelled the world,
and shall travel more.

Singer, rapper, actor,
and playwright too.
Dancing’s all, you do not do.

Yet dance away,
for the night is yours
while the days were made
to be adored.

Culinary alchemy
and cultural polyamory.
A citizen of earth,
that’s free to live happily.

So hide no more,
your penance is done.

The Age of the Indigo Angel
hath just begun.

NaPoWriMo Day 28: Love Letter

For day 28 I took the prompt of a letter of postcard from oneself and figured my future self could impart wisdom to my present self regarding my goals, particularly in relation to my Agape in Isolation project.


Dear Ushiku,

Here’s a letter from your future self;
I hope that it shall reach you well.

You’ve overcome obstacles
and yet you still love.
Ushiku truly is
a gift from God above,
and yet grounded to this earth.

For cultures are as many
as there are blades of grass…
and you will see them all
before your time shall pass.

You’ll soar upon the moonlit skies with Shamanic vigour,
you’ll sprint upon the oceans,
and bathe in life’s own rivers.

Refreshed and revitalised,
you’ll never feel lonely again.
This isn’t a matter of if,
but merely a matter of when.

So spread your spirit
across the globe
in all tongues man hath ascribed.
For you are part man,
part angel…

and LOVE
shall be your guide.

NaPoWriMo Day 27: Angels of Death

For day 27 I used the official prompt and drew inspiration from the tarot card of Death.


They say death is a new beginning,
and so it came to pass…
the shepherd wants no more
True friends emerged while false ones died,
both Yin and Yang in my juxtaposed eyes.
The windows of the soul were broken,
and yet now they’re triple glazed.
For while false friends are departed,
the true ones have left me amazed.

NaPoWriMo Day 26: Just One

For day 26 I used the 5 Stages of Grief as my prompt.


Awoke in the night
by the throes of madness,
compassion turned to anger.
For I’ve loved ones that suffered in ways
only wretched minds imagine
and noble hearts could never reconcile.
Sleep deprived and betrayed,
I sleepwalked into a daymare
that lasted 3 months…
or was it longer?
For an aged wound may never scar
if one’s own lamentation is the vulture.


Can this really be happening?
It can’t be real.
Anguish is,
all that I can feel.
Bowels empty,
a cell’s squalid light…
injustice smells,
a lot like shite.


Compassion gave way to anger quickly:
a multitude of materials
for the guilty were prepared.
But what of the innocent
that are caught unawares?
I complied all day long,
but enough was enough…
crumpled leaflets thrown,
a kinesthetic “get stuffed!”

A false friend drew a line in the sand;
oh how I wished I were Moses
to plague his accursed land.

She amounted to nothing,
and alas always will.
My last act of compassion…
was not to kill.


I knew I were innocent,
at least of this charge.
Katabasis upon a broken barge.
Whirlpools surrounded me,
in all manners fair.
I choked on my sins
while gasping for air.
For they are many,
too many to list.
Yet my soul was ravenous
as it did not do this.


The false friend reappeared
a mere 11 weeks later.
He’d chosen a side
and emerged a hater.
I drew blood with a headbutt
as he disparaged me.
I’d accepted my sins,
yet not this travesty.
An hour later,
the phone would ring:
“We knew you were innocent
from the moment we took you in.”
I offer him an olive branch,
yet he burned down the tree…
and so it is Myth,
who lives in infamy.

A letter arrives from my brief,
yet the truth of this nation
would lead me to weep.
At a time of austerity,
many must unlawfully suffer
yet for purveyors of law
crime is their bread and butter.
I’m told my accuser’s fortune is a mere pittance,
nor do charities for the falsely accused offer me remittance.
Yet my brief would have defended, if my guilt were assured…
yet to duty solicitors
innocence is deplored.
For they will make bank,
from despicable evil…
by being the defence of indefensible people.


How can one accept the unacceptable.
Yet I’ve chosen to tell my story,
and not hide in shame.
I took my misfortune,
and I gave it a name.

The Litany Of Varied Experiences
is thine own emancipation;
as I spit in the face
of undue degradation.

Truth was my armour,
my testimony my sword…
if life is a stage,
you may hold your applause.

For my story isn’t over,
it’s only just begun.
In my Litany Of Varied Experiences…
this is just one.