A Piece of Me (spoken word)

A Piece of Me

Sometimes it feels
Like everyone wants a piece of me
Shaken like a dog’s bone
Knawed raw
A dried up orange
Stale and weary
I have no more to give
Squeeze out the last drops
Never enough
Never satisfied
A never ending game of ping pong
And I’m the ball
Just want to be alone
Run away with butterflies
On a Spring morning

Why must I always be on call?
Why must I be the referee?
Then in the blame game
It is my name
On the card
Family dynamics
Too dynamic for me
I want a piece of me
For myself

The weight of needs is crushing
I’m not a one-stop-shop
Mediate, negotiate
Consulate, try not to retaliate,
Like a carton under tyre
Too high a
Pressure
Makes me pop
And then you say
What’s up
With you?
You’re wound too tight
You have a problem
Yeah I do
It’s you

© Janey Colbourne 2017

Listen

If my wounds

are the source
of my greatest power,
then my gift is the gift of insight.

I am gifted with knowledge
of how it feels to be old,
while I am still young.

I could sink into despair,
frustration and bitterness,
or I could flip the coin

and use this experience
to expand my compassion,
to share that knowledge,

my understanding.
Patience is the lesson
that comes from pain;

and courage of heart.
True strength is not
what you think.

I say to the young,
when you are old
you will know

why I do as I do,
for now you can only
imagine

and listen,

most of all, listen.

© Janey Colbourne 2017

Awaken (to the wonder)

This is an important message…

Awaken

How have we come to this?
Minutely absorbed
in desperate days.
Vainly seeking
transient bliss in triviality,
we miss infinity.

Blinded by our own lights,
we miss the night sky,
a reminder of
the immensity of awe.
We seek to light the dark
because we are afraid.

Afraid of the vast
and glorious universe.
Afraid to be so small,
yet not seeing how
we are smallest
when we flee.

Behind the concrete,
invented reason.
Ethereal illusions fade
without true soil,
a feeble substitute
for freedom.

Brave dissolution in expansion
beyond the flickered dreams.
An open soul is whole.
Awaken to the wonder,
seek out the night sky,
and remember…

© Janey Colbourne words 2016 recording 2017

Work Capability Assessments and the Disabled

It is probably the genuinely sick and disabled who suffer most from the government’s policies on work capability assessments. The constant barrage of not-so-thinly-veiled threats: “you must attend an assessment interview; if you don’t get enough points you will not be entitled; you will be assessed for work capability; you may be expected to do work-related activities” (all delivered at rapid speed on a crackling phone line) -begins immediately on the very first phone call to make a claim. No matter if your medical certificate is for two weeks or two months. The people most likely to be put off by this approach are in fact the genuinely sick. The impression given is that the default assumption is that everyone is pulling a fast one. The process is humiliating, intimidating and degrading, adding insult to injury, and piling on a few more reasons to be terrified, on top of whatever affliction you are already struggling with. When you are ill, this is exactly the kind of thing that is so difficult to cope with, and exactly the kind of stress you don’t need. There is ironically a danger of people actually being sick for longer than they would have, because of the pressure they are under. Stress has a major impact on health. That is one of the reasons people need time off-not just because they can’t physically manage their job, but because illness and disability can profoundly affect mental and emotional capacity. The irony is that those who are mentally and emotionally incapacitated are the least able to articulate their difficulties and defend themselves. This becomes a vicious cycle: persecuting them for not recovering, preventing recovery, ad infinitum. Who knows where it ends? Perhaps shortened life-span? Eugenics anyone?

© Janey Colbourne 2017

 

Below the Skin

Below the skin

Red is my blood,
green is your sap.
Yet below the skin,
we are kin.
Complementary;
breathing each other in,
mutually
nourishing,
eternally
flourishing.

The iron that dwells
In the heart of her
The iron that flows
In my veins
Are one and the same

The heart of Suns
In the wood
And the cell
I am ocean
but for a membrane

When I die,
And the ocean leaves my body,
My spirit returns to the sea.
I am ocean but for a membrane.
The part of me that is earth,
My bones I will leave behind.
Under the skin, we are kin.

© Janey Colbourne 2017 all content
Image Janey Colbourne with PicsArt

Wax It. A poem.

wax it

Here’s a poem I wrote as spoken word, which I also put to music. If you’d like to have a listen, here’s the YouTube link.

Wax It.

Wax it
Pluck it
Shave it
Shape it
Sugar it
Prune it
Slice it off!

Colour it
Cream it
Paste it
Peel it
Hurt it
hate it
Not good enough!

Cherish it
Know it
Like it
Love it
Accept it
It’s you
You ARE good enough.

© Janey Colbourne 2017