im running from the light sometimes it burns it sears my retinas im running from the light its too good to take, these prophets, seers
i don’t need their hints at fate which aren’t even accurate as of late I can determine my own cloud witness this I’ma tempt and leap all bounds
I want to explore the darkness trail in shadows but still exist in light a dichotomy of reasons, new tomorrows in which I aim to take both sides with flight with light with fight
the shadows treasure me hereon in they know I know what it means to sin but the stagnancy of these fails to pour in I don’t need heredity circumstance I have no need for falsity I am here and now I am visible low or highbrow
I don’t care to run any longer the past is not worth a shard a victim’s mentality arriving on a birthday ever so early gravitated armour shaded malignancy
I explored @artsinmaroondah exhibition at Maroondah Federation Estate today and found this beautiful piece, “Poise and Pride”. Here is my poetic response to the talented, beautiful, and wonderful soul, Hsin Lin’s, “Poise and Pride” @helloinnerpeace.
“a flowering beauty” (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock
luxe curls cascade waves frame luminous face the blooms they blossom unto her, grace, reverent, safe, strong heart, more,
her poise, pride and passion, delicate petals at her angelic core, she was born with trust to capture, listen no mauves to be seen near or far.
only cyan blues and fuchsia tips and rich light bright living greens a yellowing spontaneity drip drab, no, drops of reverent expression there, ‘tween. so hear, so hark, so listen, envision, her pristine soul to be seen. (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock.
Today I reached 1000 posts! I’ve been blogging at WordPress since early 2019. It’s been a long and winding road, full of ups and downs, repetitions and calls and cries, but I have finally made it here, and without you all, this would have been a shriek to a bleak blacked out wall, nothing to be seen, heard or felt at all. So I thank you, my dear readers, for sticking around, and reading my words, even when they became choppy and mean, and they became untoward. You still stayed, you still remained, and for that, I love you until the morning light rises and the moon won’t go away. I am so grateful for every single one of you, please celebrate with me and enjoy in a little drink together with me, too.
I’ll take you on a personal path, one where love and light exist. Where the flowers blossom and grow so large we might mistake them for a place of romanticism and trysts. Where the stars will never cower in shame, where the voice within will speak truth all the same, where your eyes will widen, and childhood memories will become unfrozen, the melodies of the world will sing to me.
I shan’t dance along by the riverbed, though dead it may appear, for underneath there is life, true life, crawling with breaths, bubbles of air. The animals are there, causing sabotage and strength and they won’t ever be tamed, not even during Lent, for their position in the world is clearly at large, big, white beautiful snow leopard, and he’s keeping you and I in perfect charge. We are allowed, no permitted, to wander the garden at large, we are allowed, no, promised to be taken upon deck, above board, of this world, heaven-sent. The charms and wonder within our scope, prisms here, envelope hope, do not chide us for having fun beneath the sun, we are special, we are wanted, and our skills shall never ever come undone, in fact, they’ll soon take hold.
Jerusalem is bathed in the most portentous of light for this place it has time time for the change of seasons for a time of worship for my lover who would fly there in a heartbeat
the land I cannot describe nor can I open my mind, to this world their sacred words are like churning songs in my mind where I will listen, I will pray, I will TRY TO FIND the answer that’s on everybody’s lips who is He and is He to stay? Is he a human being this time or did a demon meddle, this is NOT to stay?
the dream scapes in my mind show delve and ride alongside hell horses they have reigned this time what with our earth spinning with nuclear and disaster and foreign aid and daddy oh papa he understands this situation is dire we must reunite before it becomes so much harder
the flag our peoples flag waves in the dainty breeze, red yellow and black Mabo, Mabo, Mabo, won’t you see? I organised my time into ins and outs, meetings and times, I’ll be talking to another master soon, already inspired by one living close to one night, former words writes, so devout.
But it shouldn’t matter for this is my own path, forging ahead is the pathway to choose, I choose to continue, I desire to be seen, to be heard, and if I can’t, if I’m such a joke then why is it that when those whom I love hear my creations, my poems, my words, they are impressed, surely I’m not being humoured by all, that their words are to me a version of being blessed? No, this cannot be the case with all. I do not believe it to be as such, I know I can in thrall.
I can make my mark, in my main world I already have, and if this is how I’m met elsewhere, with hostility and dangerous eyes, and allusions, and insinuations which are mean and cruel and unkind, well, dears, I will still continue on my path, it’s not even a fight. It’s a means of reckoning with myself, telling, assuring myself that I am worthy of freedom, expression, and here, those foes, once-friends, there is nothing more important here, nothing more, if anything, than this I will put on the pulse. I was ill. I should not have to make amends. Feel my heartbeat, I am still here, breathing and living, and I will not allow others to dictate my fall. I can do that all by myself, and through experience I have learned to soar so well.
I will be the boisterous me I will grin and bear the dreams I will heal and steal that light the sun of the Son of the Sun I will rise when the prisms sparkle rainbow sheens I will be fortuitous and reach for desired dreams I will call and call for items like sticky pearls because they satiate my need for nourishment be and end all.
I won’t fold beneath pressure I will contemplate and begin to once again know my other my shadow self I will tame and feed her charisma my Peter-Pan syndrome my rainbow sprite self won’t go under
I will live with an inner dream childhood fantasies of writing and creating art and music are everything, as they seemed I will not complain nor will I whine because within is my great divine and I will reach it, reach her, the moment I speak I will become of her
Let the laymen understand me and even let the complex mock me I won’t heed their warnings their shooting signs because this is my life and I’ll direct it just fine.
I wanna dance the night away away from the tirades and smiles and the drains from the bastards and the potions and the trees that won’t bend to them the portentous little rascals who think they have the best of them.
I won’t dance in the ocean, no, no, I won’t dance in the lukewarm sea, I won’t float in the bubbles where the fish might surface without mermen I won’t dance in the ocean I won’t toil, succumb to the lot of them.
What I will do is this, I’ll prance to Schumann and Liszt and Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov Prokofiev and Dvorak, and then Mozart and Handel will grasp my heart with the lot of them I will perform Bruch and Lalo and beg, no, beg, for future, golden tomorrows.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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