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.

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.

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.

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.

1.

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.

2.

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.

3.

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.

4.

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.

5.

Acceptance?
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.

Day 25’s prompt from Local Gems was absolutely perfect for Litany Of Varied Experiences. It was to include a prophecy.

 

Great men are forged in fire.
It is the privilege of lesser men
to light the flame.

So it was foretold:
Ye shalt venture
through malignant majesty
unto the 10th circle
wist Dante nay Hades could muster;
be falsely branded by Sheol’s most wretched infamy;
and yet,
find one’s soul emblazoned
by the virtuous pursuit of love
and one’s very own resurrection.

For what is ash but the ethereal carcass of Prometheus?
Yet life will find a way;
an amethyst phoenix erupts,
emerging from chrysalis.

Pain was merely a mortal marker
by which a celestial understanding
of one’s Litany Of Varied Experiences
would unravel.
Poseidon himself fashioned me a lighthouse,
for what are waves of turmoil
but a greeting for a better tomorrow?

As I reached shore,
my soul fashioned itself a grappling hook
upon the summit of Mount Olympus,
I’m almost homeward bound.

I’m almost homeward…
BOUND.

 

 

Day 24’s prompt was to deal with mortality and how life’s events can often have a jolting or affirming affect upon us. I know my experience reminded me that 9 to 5 just isn’t for me and I wish to spread love, knowledge, and ascension  through art and our shared humanity.

 

Throughout the Litany Of Varied Experiences
that make up my life,
I have transcended humanity;
cursed the stagnating entrapment of this physical form;
– and even descended
from the innate greatness all souls
are capable
of.

Yet, as I preach celestially,
I recall how compassion was my Icarus,
I got too close to a supernova…
then were left scarred and alone
upon the sands of Mustafar…
though this chosen one harmed no younglings.

No son,
no daughter,
no friends in the shadow realm…
my redemption was my own,
though the desecration
was shared…
I survived furtive daggers
and crossed my own Rubicon.

There’s no turning back now…

Alas,
being brought low
has helped me to soar highly…
was there ever a sight so beautiful
as an Indigo Angel
gliding serenely though with broken wings?

Inhumane treatment
renewed my humanity,
as I rediscovered the omnipresent covenant
of which we are all capable.

We all may love,
we all may face loss,
and we all may rebuild.

Though many institutions and people
build castles out of quicksand…
my constitution is vibranium.

Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
I scatter my essence to the wind in entirety…

This,
is OUR

Litany
Of
Varied
Experiences.

For day 23 I used the Local Gems prompt of an unanswered question. It’s probably the question that underlies the whole Litany Of Varied Experiences.

 

Why did nobody apologise when truth came to pass?

Science and spirit aligned
to proclaim the truth I always knew.

One was a moron, prone to overreach.
Slow of mind,
sharp of speech.
Yet an accomplice to falsehoods
that became undone.

The other a neighbour,
that then became a friend.
Yet a poor one in truth,
for even if one ignores
the indignity I faced.
Their treatment of friends is a fucking disgrace.
Consorting with a drug dealer,
– a friend’s ex, no less!
Plus no apology for creating this mess.
Shipped off to the funny farm,
with friendship put to pasture…
you surely are a cow,
that spreads lies instead of laughter.

Finally,
my best friend.
This was what hurt the most.
This asshole would abandon me,
and then would even boast:
“if you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve got nothing to worry about”
as I lived in the shameful shadow
of a mentalist’s fraught fantasies.
Worst still defended another,
guilty of a crime I’d never commit…
yet when confronted with the truth:
eschewed false virtues with a crown of shit.
If saving you from suicide,
is the true mark of a friend…
then I proved my worth a thousand times
whilst you just played pretend.

For day 22 I went with the Local Gems prompt of a cure for something that isn’t considered a disease. Being a Game of Thrones fan one line in particular came to mind and I ran with it. Hopefully doing so will cure the rage against the indignity I faced in the past year, or at the very least provide some comic relief to the matter in a macabre manner.

 

Ser Bronn said it best:
There’s no cure for being a cunt!

Yet I fly on the wings of a pigeon pie
– you’ll choke on your words,
to no surprise.

I could throw you into a vat of steaming lava,
Scream “I killed Mufasa” as you lather.
The villain is the hero of their own story,
I did no wrong, till now…
I implore thee!

Do the good thing, and grovel at my feet…
or else you’ll surely face defeat.

I beat you physically,
that happened twice.
Your mum’s pretty cool –
why don’t you play nice?

Yet your dad is a creep that hired a PI,
now it’s time to learn an eye for an eye.
The world won’t go blind,
one guy’s left with one eye, don’t cry…
oh wait you can’t,
no worries – I shan’t!

You see you’re not worth my tears,
nor friendship…
I abhor thee,
though spoiler warning –
you won’t survive this story.

Frankenstein’s the true monster,
most scholars agree.
But there’s no cure for being a cunt:
COS YOU CREATED ME!

Day 21’s official prompt was to deal with the myth of Narcissus, while Local Gems encouraged one to write about faith. So I decided to do both, and write of the narcissism of a false friend, who in turn was a Myth.

 

If you prayed for answers
you did not listen.
Though the truth was already revealed…
you demonised the chaste
so that one’s own evils were concealed.

I spoke plainly yet profoundly,
in words you would not hear.
Thoust a monkey – speaks of evil
whence closed of mouth an’ ears.

An apology
withstanding,
one ‘tis owed thrice.
For the clean ‘re seen as dirty
whence heads ‘re covered in lice.

As illusions fade,
I stand beside a lake.
My faith in you was real,
though your friendship was fake.

Day 20 was about rebellion, while Local Gems eschewed the Tanka. My rebellion was to face up to the nightmarish reality another subjected me to and find strength from it.

 

I will own my pain
created by another:
phantom fears reveal
the soul’s archeology…
Atlantean treasures rise.