It Slides – Poem

it slides

Its Slides

It slides and slips

moving swiftly between our finger tips

grains of sand,

like time, our lives spill through our hand

as our love slips away

 

it disappears before our eyes

falling to the floor

against the stone

bouncing away

hiding, leaving us forever

 

falling in love is a moment of beauty

a rush, a flash of light, fireworks and fun

 

When the love is done, its gone in a shadow

a heavy blanket

an emptiness inside…

 

…a sad farewell

 

Links

Simply Gorgeous – Poem

Simply Gorgeous – Poem

Simply Gorgeous

Simply Gorgeous

Beautiful, simply gorgeous

an angel with such a heavenly glow,  white light trails in your wake.

So soft, so sensitive, so pure

Your essence is intoxicating, incredibly invigorating.

 

Walking beside you was like being wrapped in a veil of magical light

fairies fluttering with their butterfly wings

singing songs of love and life without any strife

 

immeasurable and incredible

pure candy for sight

a flavor of the gods, beyond any mortal delight

 

Links

Magical Ways – Poem

Magical Ways

Magical Ways – Poem

Magical Ways

Magical Ways

The world moves in magical ways

It has an ebb and flow

A feel of pure pleasure,

a sensation of cool liquidity

rhythmically rocking us, forward and back

 

Not all of our feels make sense

they don’t have to

Feelings are creatures without a master

they are untamed

unmarred

liberated and Free

 

Acceptance, like the world, has an ebb and flow

It moves forward and back

side to side

it glides and slides, but never abides.

 

Links

Eh – Poem

 

Eh

Eh – Poem

Eh

Eh

Eh…

I want to say “Not a peep, not a noise, not a word.”

I want to say “Are you serious?”

“After all this time?”

“After this and that, here and there?”

 

I want to say “ok.”

I want to say “I get it.”

“I should have seen it.”

“That this was going to happen.”

“It was destined to be.”

“that’s how it works”

“Its fine.”

 

What can I say?

those feelings

those moments

 

It doesn’t take them away

The way the road moves

how it travels

or where it goes

 

The steps we took have already been taken

They can’t be undone

They will always be there

 

Perhaps…

Maybe I’m fine with it

Ready to lift my soul

let my heart go

rise and fly

watch what was…

…die.

Links

All Sorts

 

 

All Sorts

All Sorts – Poem

All Sorts

All Sorts

Hurt and pain and all sorts of shame

We live in a world where things don’t go our way

Life is not solely about the good times

or the bad.

 

It is about the memories we cherish, love and like.

the lessons we have learned

and the things we have earned

 

Sadness is a time stamp of the things we have accepted

the moments that have passed

the ones that are to come

that will be all sorts of fun

 

It is an opportunity to look forward

to walk toward the sun

and dance in the night

 

to look ahead without any fright

live and love

and wear life like a glove

Links

Plug – Poem

 

plug

Plug – Poem

plug

Plug

There is a plug, a sticky thing,

a clog filling the passage

It keeps all the gooey good stuff from flowing like it should

It keeps us from seeing ourselves

seen how we see

feel how we feel

how we want to experience

 

This plug is tough and gruff and overall quite the bastard

We have to pull and struggle and fight

do what needs to be done to open our heart to fun

 

The world is not always about the things that are bad

or sad

We can raise our spirits

feel the wave

and be glad

enjoy the stillness of peace

and make the insanity cease.

Links

Burns – Poem

 

burns

Burns – Poem

burns

Burns

As the world burns,

we watch,

our eyes resting against the horizon

comfortably sitting with soft smiles

watching the flames lick at the starless sky.

It is difficult to discern between the clouds and the smoke

as it often is,

 

In life we face so many perils

the hardships are difficult to distinguish the good from the bad.

We blindly amble

smiles on our faces,

moving toward the maw of oblivion

we enter the mouth of annihilation

and we are consumed

utterly destroyed

 

What then?

What happens next?

Are we are reborn?

Do we reemerge?

ready and willing to face life again

able to cope, to handle all of its challenges

overcome all of its hardships

rediscovering how to survive and journey

thrive and give up worry

Links

A Gargoyle beside Oblivion – Poem

 

Hidden

Hidden – Poem

Hidden

Hidden

The world can be a strange place, the kind where shadows move about believing they’re hidden.

Like a silvery little fish, so young and slick. Swimming with such serpentine grace it might make me sick.

If the desire is there, act on it, life is too short to sneak and hide.

Instead you move and dance, sneakily eating and thriving, simply trying to hide as you survive.

Fuck that man, do what you go to do. Be honest and straight with your words. There’s no shadow in the sky, no duck bill that’ll bite.

Your heart says “That shadow in the sky is a duck if I might surmise.” Don’t guess, if you must know, go and ask.

Don’t bask in the burning rays of fear. Live your life outward and well. Embrace the love in your heart. Don’t break your patterns and smiles because of expectation.

Most likely, what you expect isn’t what you’re going to get.

Links

A Caretaker in Name only

 

Feels

Feels – Poem

Feels

Feels

Today was a day of many thoughts and explorations. I considered much and spoke to plenty of people. It was a good day filled with all sorts of feels.

There was a poem that crossed my mind. My heart spilled, but its blood was thin, only thick enough to grant the writing form. It was raw, rough and without shape. It lacked the slide and glide needed for it to roll off the lip.

The spirit addressed love, life and the relationships between. It asked questions about life’s stepping stones, how we are servants to the soles of our lover’s feet. We mark a place, a spot, a temporary location for those we love, until another is found… to lead them closer to that one… true… love.

The poem sung a song, a friendly ballad, one that smiles and laughs and is jolly… even at night. It was a song that could bring an end even to a terrifying fright.

It said we are servants to love, that it fits us like a glove and flies as sweetly as a beautiful white dove.

It said we all give, a gift received… and a gift granted. A glory to be thankful for…   A magnificence to cherish, a significance to acknowledge and its brilliance to brighten our days.

Links

Memories – Reflections

 

Favorite -Thomas Hat – podcast

Thomas Hat

Stories about Thomas Hat

Everyone needs a good Thomas Hat story in their life.  If he were an actual person he’d say things like: hats and cats, bells and whistles, beans and berries. The things that would sprout from his tongue would be the sayings akin to the phrases that some who is super silly might say. Thomas Hat believes that the world is an abstract place, an experimental realm, the kind of land that lives and lies like a hat that’s been place upon our head.

His desire is to tell the tale of the world through another lens.  The kind of filter that sits on our scalp.  The kind that transforms our less than savory moments into those that he would describe as a hat-tastic time!

The Favorite Hat of Thomas Hat

Thomas Hat believes that it is more important to enjoy wearing our favorite hat, rather than where the hat takes us.

Never regret or feel bad about all the great times while wearing the hat. Instead remember those moments fondly, know the genuine hat-tasticly fun times and enjoy the closure you had while wearing it.

Sometimes we don’t get to do all the things we wanted to with the hat. Sometimes we may never get to do those things we wanted to, but don’t dwell on those things, just cherish all the moments you had the opportunity to wear that specific special hat.

Thomas

Would you like to read more about the kinds of things Thomas Hat would say?  Then stay tuned cause there will be more to come.  In the mean time perhaps you could take a bite of something with a little bit more zing.  Click on any of the following links to learn about the thoughts and feelings that flow in the poetic form from Shawn White’s mouth.

Links

Yummy

Tangerine

surely whirly its true

Tangerine – Silly

Tangerine

Tangerine

When a tangerine wants to be angry at a lemon, it doesn’t have to have an edible reason. Ordinarily the tangerine only needs to redirect the stress caused by the avocados and celery of their life onto the lemon. Sure the lemon isn’t as sweet as an orange, but one fruit should never threaten to throw out the other just because of a few minor imperfections in its fruity skin.

Fruit harmony should never be something so readily threatened. Long lasting citric bonds are formed from empathy and mutual compassion.
Citric bonds aren’t about delectable dominance, dreamy demands or compensation for perceived salacious slights. They are about the give and take, letting the insignificant slide and realizing you’re not the center of the universe.

A many a good apple would say “Those fruit who see themselves as victims and believe they are the most pure and good are typically too short sighted to see how they hurt those close to them.

Every food product, be it veggie, fruit or heavenly ham is equally flawed. None better than the other but all equally as beautiful in their own right.

You are a unique fruit, no more unique than a than any other tasty treat. To know that is the first step to empathize with your fellow fruits and vegetables.

Links

Welcome to the new silly section of my blog.  It is a place where I can reclaim my happy go lucky fun loving self.  If you would like to take a break from all the super seriousness then this is your place.

If you would like to return to the excellent excitement of advocacy consider clicking on one of these links.

Power Advocacy Podcast 1

Power Advocacy Podcast 3

Want for you to find peace, I

want

I want for you to find peace

Not everything that people do is done to us.  We all make the best of what we have and hope to do the best with what we got.  Most of us want to help, but we’re afraid.

I’ve always wanted to help you, but I’ve never known how.  Fear and love has been in my heart.  I wanted to be there for you, because I have always been afraid you were going to hurt yourself.

Your happiness would soothe parts of me.

I want you to find peace and purpose, to be around the people that you love.  To have them healthy and whole beside you, to hold and love them.

I want you to discover your dreams and follow them.  You need to be the beautiful person you are.  Be wonderful and full of wonder.

If you would like to read something else that is soft like this feel free to click this link.

Storm of the NET the stress of cancer

Possession: a reading

Possession

This Poem, possession was written to help convey the things I experienced while in the hospital.  It is a part of a poem series called the Tale of Carcinoid.

Possession

A poem by Shawn White

Through a clear plastic tube, a stream of poisonous goo dripped from my side.

When they pushed their scalpel against my flesh,  it opened the barrier between life and death.

It created a spirit bound wound open to the world of the living.

The sharpened knife created a cavernous cave, a hole filled with the black flies of oblivion.  They swarmed and spat, eating my breathing flesh with their vomit.

From this wound, my ego soaked doctors ate the blood caked flies from my lung, carving out and consuming the festering rat king from my chest.

Slowly I opened my eyes from this eternally dark dream.  With tears streaming down my face I stared on.

I stared on at an amorphous blob as it plopped out from the darkness.  Like smoldering tar it dripped from the ceiling.   Its skin was slick and rigid and hard to the touch.

Spindles reminiscent to a spider’s arms covered its slug like face.   Dark tentacles poured from its mouth, writhing and lashing.

It looked on at me with beady black eyes.  Its leeching gaze consumed me, latching hooks into my flesh,  it pulled me deeply into it’s bottomless pit of despair.

It hovered.  It taunted me with whispers and growls.  Its wings floated, swimming in the air like water.

The tips of its tendrils slid across my skin, reaching into the slice in my side.  It felt like slippery sand paper driving a hot iron between my ribs.  It sat on my chest, pressing into my sternum.  Its weight made each breath a struggle for air.

It pressed its face against mine, holding me in place.  Steadily and slowly it forced itself into my mouth.  I could feel its anger, its madness, its frenzied hatred… become mine.

 


For More

If you would like to read another poem feel free to click here.  I hope your heart zones are filled with super sauce!

 

Change – A New Universe of Cancer

change

Change is the way of life

At every step in our life we are faced with change.  It’s an opportunity to become something else, to be transformed by the moment.  I have experienced many opportunities to change in my cancer journey.  I have done my best to accept these gifts as they are presented to me.  When our world begins to transform we must temper it with wisdom, becoming something else is not enough, we must critically observe the transformation.

Reflections

Ghost Tree (the art piece of the tree: see below) was inspired by the parts of our lives that die but remain even after we continue to live.  Looking at it now I’m reminded of my mother, especially her journey through cancer and heart disease.   She died of congestive heart failure and pancreatic cancer.  Since my diagnosis there have been many moments when I wondered if she had carcinoid cancer.

My mother walked the road of cancer with grace.  She made the most of her life.  She lived her final moments by her terms.  When she was put on hospice she chose to take control of her life and how she would walk into death.   My mother was an inspiration, an incredibly loving and passionate woman.

In the last weeks of her life she arranged one final hurrah, a vacation for the entire family.  Together we went on a cruise, it would be the last time we would be together as a happy, harmonious family.

The diagnosis of cancer is a catalyst for great change.  It is through our wisdom that we decide whether this change is benevolent or malevolent.  My mother showed me that no matter where the road leads us, we ultimately have the decision to decide how we leave.  We decide how we will be remembered and how much love we can bring into the world.

a picture of my wonderful mother
This picture was taken when I was about 19. This is how I remember my mother.

A Good Life

As we move forward in life, parts of us die, while others continue to grow.  When we lose people close to us it is important to remember how they lived, but it is also important to remember how they died.

The end of life is not the first death we’ve experienced.  Change means something must stop so another may begin.  These moments are smaller deaths to prepare us for the final one at the end of our road.  If we gracefully accept the small changes in our life we will be ready for the final transformation at the end.

This post is about acceptance, love and growth.  It is an exploration of life and those who have inspired us.  Its a message that change can be good, the good comes from wisdom, temper it well and you will lead a good life.

 

Life after death
Ghost Tree. A life of cancer, a life of life.

 

I am beginning to discover that it is our dying parts that inspire others to live.  To explore the magical nature of life and take the time to experience the experience.  If you would like to walk back in time and read my thoughts from the past feel free to follow this link: 

A New Universe of Cancer Part: 5

 

 

 

surely whirly its true

surely whirly its true

A poem by Shawn White

Whirly fun, surely you will find a fun time within these gummy good words.  This series aims to tell a story, a poem or adventure straight from my magical mouth. Not every moment is a serious one, sometimes we need to rest, relax and let our imaginations run wild.

If you think this poem is silly, you will discover many others like it.  If you like bonus grins or a jump kickingly good times, then look no further.  The core of who I am is rooted in silliness.  What do we have if we cannot laugh, smile and be jolly?

Clearly I have a message, I aim to achieve my dreams and passions.  I want to help those who need help, I desire to change the world and inspire others to do great things.  I will do all of these things and more.  Ultimately I will discover how to be my own health advocate, and teach others to become theirs.

What is the value of our spirituality, philosophy or religion if we cannot love?  If we cannot make our feelings and faith manifest?

Embracing the beauty of the universe is often neglected by everyone, it is not a symptom of a disease.  It is the byproduct of the hypnotic fog of complacency surrounding and saturating our lives.

I have always tried to enjoy the fruity flavor of life and all the love it had to offer. There have been times when the foam of life has obstructed the taste experience. Where the other feels masked the most important ones.  It is in these moments that we do our best to know that our frilly furls, and silly songs will one day return.

whirly silliness

 

 

surely whirly its true

 

Beef, chicken, pop-tarts and glue.
I just cant get enough of you.

While I eat my favorite flavor,
Hanging out with my fun savior
I beat the heat, by taking a seat,
And I wear my hat to the side
Like a big yellow slippery slide
And Im filled with so much watah
I just gotta to holla

Later Ill be Drinking a beer with big ol daddy deer
While smores are cooked on oars.

But today, if I may.
I will say
Yes indeed, surely whirly its true,
Today wheely really will be,
The best day to chill with you.

So scroll just a little bit lower and click on the magical link.  I am sure the interwebs and my voluptuous voice will fill your heart with smiles. 🙂

Yay!

The Empty Hand

The Empty Hand

Empty, alone and afraid.

 

The Empty Hand

8/23/2016

It was early, the sun sat outside the tiny window beyond the reach of the bed.  The air was cold, but my hand was warm.  Warmed by the hand, the touch of one that was familiar.

The time of the clock clicked seven and the hand released me as my eyes slipped away into a great, deep sleep.  I was alone.

 

Waking I was frightened, I knew no one.  I looked for the hand that held mine, but her hand was gone, alone I was left.

Ghosts moved this way then that way.

I was confused and concerned.

They laid me forward, crowding around me, a pause was heard, then nothing.

 

The nothing lasted only a moment, behind it came the tight tug of something

The something was a hot sting, a tingling numbness, a strange sensation that with the touch of breath’s air transformed.

An echo of pain slipped through me, rattling my inside like quaking walls.

The first droplets of pain were soft, like the pitter patter of a light rain, but with each cloud that billowed from the abyss the storm grew greater.

 

The droplets were hot, like the lick from the kiss of boiling grease.

The storm ravaged, the burning became steel as it melted through my nerves, I could feel the heat eat away at everything that made me me.

Fear overcame me, I could not hold back the terror, my hand thrashed to find that hand, the hand, the hand who had left me.

It was the first time I felt alone, the first time I was alone.  Placed within the blanket of darkness, to face the punishment for my innocent benevolence, I would be consumed by Molten steel that was forced and flowed through me,

A pain, an agony that reigned till darkness I was filled…

 

With time comes forgiveness

With time comes change

Though my heart was burned from the inside out, I accepted her and her fear, I forgave the hand that deserted me.

 

Submerged in the silken, slick water

Lowered from the abrasive, bitter world that I battled

I felt a soft touch, the ease of its place, the peace of its harmony

 

I could feel my skin revitalize,

I could feel the spin stop,

And my breath soften

 

I could see again, for the first time

I could feel again, for the first time

I could live again, for the first time.

 

Returning to this world, my eyes were open and my heart washed

I saw a new place, a new time

A land of boundless opportunity, endless love and immeasurable beauty

 

Emerging, stepping from the oiled water I looked to the horizon, My eyes turning to those who had walked with me, to those who had held and forgotten my hand,

And I walked forward.

 

If you would like to read a related poem take a step through this door and explore the thoughts and feels of Shawn White.

 

Caretaker In Name Only

Caretaker In Name Only

This poem describes the experience of living with someone who was supposed to be my caretaker during chemotherapy.  The end result of this experience was me taking care of them.  The insanity of living with this person has helped me make decisions, say no and enforce my boundaries.

 

caretaker

A Caretaker In Name Only

A Poem by Shawn White

Abusers and Takers reveal their true identity when asked to take responsibility.

When you draw a line in the sand and ask them not to cross it, they push and cry and whine.
They say “Woe is me; I am the victim!”
They are envious, but not of the loss of lung or the cancer or the chemo, but of everything else you have worked for or earned.
That money, the stuff used to allow you survive, they believe a part of it is theirs.
They shouldn’t have to pay, they shouldn’t have to do, they can’t do this, they can’t do that.
They cry and fuss when they are expected to turn Adult into Adulting.

But what about the things they just bought? They need money to pay its taxes, they need money to pay their payments and insurance… what about their insurance?

It is not your fault that they bought a thing beyond their means. A thing with the intent to attract instead of to deliver. It is not your fault that they lost their job.
It’s not your fault that they have refused every opportunity put before them, the free education, tools, insurance, guaranteed employment.
Its not your fault that they volunteered to move in with you, to help you survive when you were terrified of what was to come.
Its not your fault when they did nothing to take care of you.
Its not your fault when you had to take care of yourself and this Taker who took what you had and lived like a child.

A child who said you would look stupid and ugly once your hair started falling out, who told you that you were weak, a child who was adamant about the things they believe you cannot do.

Abusers and Takers reveal their true identity when asked to take responsibility.
When that line is drawn in the sand and they see they can no longer force you with their will, they make you the monster.
They say “Woe is me; I am the victim!”
They say “How dare you expect me to help you, how dare you expect me to pay to play, to live, to eat.”

And so in the end they give you a gift, they give you the gift of freedom and peace.
Freedom from them and peace of mind.

For more reading on feelings and such feel free to click this link.

A Moment Before Love

A Moment Before Love

moment before love
Moment before time

This art piece is a snap shot in time just before we fall in love. It is at this moment that we each decide whether we move with the current of our heart or we pull ourselves to shore.

Without love, life would be without purpose.  The action of our passions is love made manifest.  This art piece was made during a troubling time, a moment where my world was being turned upside down.  The love I was about to embrace was a manic desire, a passion of the worst order.

The moment I fell for my love, my now love, was during another troubling time.  I was rising from the ashes of another life.  I was recuperating under the roof of a true friend.  My love, my now love came to me in a dark hour, an hour that became a long night, a night that became an eclipse of the sun.

If you would like to have your heart strings warmed with a smile uses your computer hands to click on this link.

If you would like your soul parts strummed and played with the passion of love made manifest then click on this link.