Mexico to belize: Rum run, Sharks & Crab Races

On arrival in Chetumal we were greeted by a man who looked like a member of Homer Simpson’s bowling team and who may or may not be affiliated with “The Dude” his taxi was playing badly made 70’s disco, the kind where the beat could be easily reproduced with a baby’s piano synth toy, his Nissan proudly wore the name Lucy in Memphis style lettering and even the Eeyore swinging precariously from the rear view mirror had a mullet. Disco Stu, Lucy and Eeyore dropped us safely at the hotel in a matter of minutes. The border town is rundown and poor, concrete shops boast tax free fashion and perfume and the hot supermarkets are stocked with packet food. The dirty river warns passers by of random attacks from badly drawn crocodiles and other unrecognisable swamp dwellers, whilst children practise disco Christmas dances on an elaborate band stand in a near by square, everything about Christmas is big and decorated with cone party hats, tin foil and more cone hats.

The night in Chetumal was followed by a morning at the port waiting for the only boat to Belize that we were aware of that left at 3:30, check out was at 11, we walked the length of the town in the sun and the only spectacular thing to note is despite illustrated warnings we did so unscathed by crocodiles. The highlight of Chetumal was the small store at the port that opened around a mid-day where an old Belizean lady played hard-core disco intros and Britany Spears through the tannoy system whilst shot calling the various tuck-shop deals like she was announcing the next ride at the “The May Fair”, each time you entered the price of beer differed slightly and each handful of change was decorated with a quick shout of the words “Happy Hour”. My beer trips seemed to continue to dip in price where Nacho’s took a steady climb.

Arrival at the San Pedro Dock is not unlike been thrown into a boot camp, laden with heavy bags, no visible escape route and a harsh military mama shouting at you to line up and behave. I quite liked it! Outside the docks we encountered 2 bent metal tables constituting a market of electric kitchen goods from the early 80s and day-glow yellow sign that boasted in marker pen “new stock!”. Supressing the urge to a microwave big enough to sleep in, we opted instead to ask for directions, the guys on the stall sorted us out with a lift to the hotel immediately. People here are friendly and funny, everything’s a bit slower and a bit louder and all sentences and sprinkled with a laugh ranging form mild to fog horn, depending on how much they amuse themselves, it’s fantastic!

The streets are full of golf carts, women drive one handed whilst children sleep in their lap and the local youth ride schools of bikes shouting and laughing in Creole English. The roads (of which there are 3) are cobbled or dirt, lined with puddles and potholes, thin and straight with all manner of traffic and debris. Houses, bars and banks are wooden or breeze blocks with hand painted signs and sprayed concrete. The water is turquoise, the air is hot and sweet, it looks, smells and feels like the Caribbean.  

That night we drank piña coladas on the beach in a slight rain at a beautiful rickety American Caribbean beach bar called Crazy Canucks and witnessed our first ever crab race. We bet on number 69 (Nacho choose the numbers). The race was over in a matter of seconds. Crab 69 aka “Nacho Man” wasn’t the athlete we’d dreamed he’d be but on an island in the Caribbean sipping rum who can blame him? no-ones is in a rush out here. 

Belize money is a dollar which can be exchanged with American at a rate of 2 for 1, it’s weird seeing the picture of the Queen printed next to the word dollar. It’s not a modern version of her Maj at all. It’s the Lizzy that back in the day it wouldn’t have taken you much more than 5 pints, a battered sausage and a get out jail free card and you’d be sneaking her back to your Travel Lodge. Cheeky how she never ages on colonies money, I wonder if she keeps a few dollars on the dresser to cheer her up. “Charlie one’s feeling rather bloody glum, pass me a 20 make Mummy feel better, one from the Islands, something in a hot pink.”

We swapped a few pictures of a pink flushed youthful Liz for a dive trip for Nacho and snorkel for me. The islands boast over 400 dive spots and one of the most impressive reefs in the world. Nacho went off to the big boys side of the reef with his dive gear like a regular merman whilst I got on the babies boat with a beautiful French girl who’d been left by her Mexican boyfriend of 5 years and arrived on the island alone 4 days ago to realise no-one accepted pesos and her card didn’t work. Poor Matilda had been alone, heartbroken and penniless until yesterday. She was surprisingly upbeat, the 5 happy hungover New Zealanders lathered in thick white sunscreen were too.

The boat skipped a short distance of topaz waters under clear skies to the Hol Chan national reserve, the white waves breaking horizontally in middle of the ocean skimming the top of the coral beneath. A small circle of battered boats with clever names in peeled paint anchored to drop happy sun reddened tourists over the edge like tipping lobster nets back in the ocean.

I plunged off the boat proudly and bravely feet first only to discover the water to be about neck high and deliciously warm. The corals are out of this world, stag coral, brain coral, purples oranges and earth browns in small and large formations some hundreds of years old. One housing the many spiked Lion fish from the infamous scene in “Naked Gun” where he accidently harpoons the precious Lion fish with a ball point pen. 

Later we were greeted by an array of colours from Peacock Flounders, Spanish hug fish, spotted sting rays, Groupers and more. In shallow waters of about 5 feet deep we stumbled upon Antony the sea turtle, who if you kept a healthy distance and still, will eventually approach you. Antony surfaced for water centimetres away from my face and then went on about his business.  

With Antony long gone we paddle on until one of the Kiwi’s surfaced and shouting a safety word I’d heard them discussing not too quietly earlier “Bruce! Bruce, f****** Bruce!” an unbreakable code they’d devised for alerting each other to Sharks and making shark jokes without worrying the group. (We never found Nemo in Europe.)  And there sure enough a few feet away was Bruce, a handsome reef shark, moving with snake like ease and efficiency on the sea bed. Bruce being rather aloof couldn’t have given 2 hoots about any of us and so on we swam, to the edge of the reef and then off into the dark abyss.

An abyss which turned out to be just a deeper bit of ocean with some darker coral but still, there’s something quite magical about the process of swimming off the ledge into the unknown, like teetering off the edge of the Earth itself. Once in the deep, the water fell from green to deep blue and you could feel the swirling currents change around you the slightly colder waters tickling your body as you kicked across the open channel.

After crossing the channel, (that’s right baby I swam a channel today, JUICE PLUS BABY! IN YOUR FACE CFS!) we hopped back onto the boat and off again at “Shark & Ray bay”, where we dropped in to a shallows circle of nurse sharked that danced hungry circles with smaller fish always sheltered in their underbellies as the Michael the boat man fed them crabs and fish bits. Some of the sharks were the length of your arm, where most were larger. A nurse shark is perfectly friendly docile creature and other than the odd thump from drifting in too close to their tail you were in no danger of becoming lunch. The final shark to approach was more like a sofa than a human arm and admittedly I backed off from that particular lady. She was so graceful, docile, elegant and bloody massive it was an honour to be in her back garden.  

The rays remained low for the most part until the sharks had taken their turn. One large ray came up to feed a little, majestic and simultaneously clumsy like a flapping like sombrero or a flannel that a toddler had drawn a smiley face on.  The 3 feet wide beauty bumped about the group, whilst above one young seagull with wall nuts for balls, glide above the boat making the odd dive down to tackle the sharks for their lunch. I liked that bird!

Our boat driver Michael was kind hearted happy local, with a wonderful temperament and a great sense of humour, he’d been diver for years, our snorkel guide “The President” wore the proud swollen belly of happy taco and rice filled man, he was wonderful diver and a great guide, we couldn’t have asked for a better trip, he was however slightly lacking as a human being (it’s not hard to tell an offensive or racist in comment in Creole English, it’s not Japanese after all). When you peel back the lable of paradise the ingredients on the reverse include the occasional racist undercurrent fed by both sides of the fence, some trickled over the border along side Tex-Mex and Harley muscle T’s, excluding locals from certain areas, perpetuating The President’s views in a self fulfilling cycle.  Michael and The President had a handful of well rehearsed jokes and compliments that really were crowd pleasers as the boat thumped up and down and the waves splashed we all laughed together eating sea splashed tacos and salsa quickly spare one Kiwi who’s rum repeated on him in the heat and the waves. 

We walked home hand in hand on white sands under the blistering sun, breathing in the sights and smells happily and deeply enjoying everything the island has to offer. I couldn’t be more blessed. I have a wonderful job and the pleasure of working with 2 incredibly beautiful people to go back to in summer and to have a man who works as hard as Nacho does so we can afford to do things like a long holiday and  a big wedding is truly a blessing, it’s even more so to be doing all of this with your best friend. (even if he isn't quite as good/ keen at word games as Bella and his marmot has zero stick to it!)  I’m so very much in love with him and with life and amongst all this humbling beauty I’m absorbing everything Mother Earth has to offer with a heart full of gratitude.  Growing old is such a privilege and one I wont waste! My friend Sean from Canada, somewhat of a rock star with cerebral palsy teaches me this often. I don’t see why so many of us fear aging, to have to opportunity to go through all of life’s seasons is something many of use wont get. Life is for living and living a life of adventure whilst we do is something I’ll never take for granted.

MERRY CHRISTMAS BITCHES! 

We love you all.

Sat Nam.  Wahe Guru.    

Can someone explain the ice bucket challenge to me?

Okay so this seems pretty simple, have I got it? Start: get ice...then... put ice in bucket, put water in bucket tip bucket on head, probably scream a bit, tell friends, friends get ice, put ice in bucket, put water in bucket, tip bucket, tell friends? Yes? Yes, nailed it. It´s all pretty simple infact it´s genius. 

I´d like to begin this rambling as a letter of praise and admiration to possibly one of the most switched on women in the modern world of social media. Go on the girls! I´m having trouble writing it though, here´s a first draft let me know what you think...
________________________________________________________________
Dear Jane H. Gilbert, 

 First of all Ms Gilbert let me offer my humblest of praises for your mighty efforts in raising awareness about ALS (We all know exactly what ALS is now right? Maybe I should edit this part out of my letter? What do you think guys?) and in doing so creating a world wide facebook phenomina now Ms Gilbert everyone knows your foundations name. But I am sad for you as people don´t know your name, you´re not getting nearly enough credit in the social media for your actions, and I think Ms Gilbert that the world should know your name. If you´re willing to take sizeable finacial credit for your endorsements then I think that it is only fair that you too should have your name in lights. 

I´m sure that when Frigyes Karinthy stumbled across his 6 degrees of seperation theory this is exactly how he envisaged it being applied 86 years on, a non-profit organisation applying it´s principle to reach the world! My favorite part about your donation scheme is the fines, why if we were in the theatre I would be the first to rise to my feet in a standing ovation for this cheeky little clause. Let´s face it fads don´t last and sometimes people aren´t sure if they really want to join in or not and juuuust when they´re making up thier mnd where to shoot their video BOOM here comes a startled pigeon or and angry lama video fffffffllllllllfffffff and your efforts are burried in a draw with, 24 blow jobs and cat jumps gate BUT money talks and 24 hours on social media is a lifes work for a carrier pigeon particulalry if the little chaps startled antics have gone viral, how he´d manage to show his face again in a sea of tittering youtube fanatics (a moments salute for the pigeon too).
 Do it now or pay more! It´s genuis. I´m sure your yearly salary is in corrolation with your takings so I´d like to raise a glass of the finest to Christms in the Gilbert household this year, may it be more extravegant than the last:

 Jane H. Gilbert – President and CEO – $339,475.00

And of your many close and dear co-workers and advisors for their galant efforts here are some names I think we´d like to know too. They all deserve a letter of praise also. 

• Daniel M. Reznikov – Chief Financial Officer – $201,260.00
• Steve Gibson – Chief Public Policy Officer – $182,862.00
• Kimberly Maginnis - Chief of Care Services Officer – $160,646.00
• Lance Slaughter - Chief Chapter Relations and Development Officer – $152,692.00
• Michelle Keegan – Chief Development Officer – $178,744.00
• John Applegate – Association Finance Officer – $118.726.00
• David Moses – Director of Planned Giving – $112,509.00
• Carrie Munk – Chief Communications and Marketing Officer – $142,875.00
• Patrick Wildman – Director of Public Policy – $112,358.00
• Kathi Kromer – Director of State Advocacy – $110,661.00

Great work boys and girls great work, a stroke of manipulative genuis. I salute your galant efforts and only hope one day to be as ruthless in my pursuit of happiness as you. (At his moment I am just a lowly volunteer, I´m sure you have LOTS of these doing ground work, perhaps I can join, maybe that way you can have an even bigger turkey? Just let me know)

Kind Regards.

Polly.
_________________________________________________________________

Don´t get me wrong I´m all about charitable giving, raise that awareness, fly that flag please please do. But what worries deep down in my core is that not only is the message, the action and the outcome here all a little wrong that stunts like this will actually have an adverse effect on future givings, when there are some damn hard working organisations out there and ALS is a great cause. 

So what is ALS? A lot of people may think they haven´t heard of it, but if I were to say Lou Gehrigs disease one or two more eybrows would raise "Ooooh okay now I know." I will admit that previous to writing this I´d only heard of it in American movies and a famous scientist, I knew half of the symptoms and non of the causes. (I am still poorly edcuated in probably the entire matter I´m rambling about, but I am working on changing it so it´s a start.) 
Lou Gehrig played almost 20 seasons major league baseball, to sum this up in British terms; the man was to the yankees what Ryan Giggs is to Man U. Infact it took over half century for any man to play as many consecutive games as Mr Gehrig. Mr Gehrig eventually retired from baseball with his infamous "luckiest man in the world" speach, he fought bravely and passed away 2 years later. ALS effects the nerve cells in the brain and also the spinal chord, the disease itself is porgressive so the syptoms become gradually more and more severe. These kinds of diseases strike a very personal chord with my family.

Another Hero of this cruel suffering is the incomparable Steven Hawkins. Mr Hawkins has survived for over 50 years with the condition and is a man I hold in a handful whome I refer personally to as my intecetual super heroes. Mr Hawkins actually joined in the ice bucket challenge himself although he did not endorse the ALS foundation, as only 19% goes directly to patient care and  27% goes to what is marked up as "research". Being a research charitiy this means that 73% isn´t going where they say it´s going! In addition some research charities have very strong links with large drug companies in a multi billion dollar industry where a cure is less lucrative than a treatment. I do not mean to offend so I will just hint towards a notion of better spending on care rather than companies, perhaps something I´ll go into more indepth later. I am not against research one can not cure without learning, the entire situation is potentially a unanswerable catch 22. 

I will say however that the ALS foundation has a less then brilliant history as far as ethical testing goes, worded in quite a lovely way by an unlikely heroin Miss Pamela Anderson, in this letter:

Sorry
 -
I can't bring myself to do your Ice bucket challenge. 
I enjoy a good dare- It's always good to bring awareness - in fun, creative ways / I don't want to take away from that. 
but it had me thinking. Digging a bit deeper. I found that we may not be aligned - in our messages. So...
- I thought Instead / I'd challenge ALS to stop Animal testing /-- Recent experiments funded by the ALS Association, mice had holes drilled into their skulls, were inflicted with crippling illnesses, and were forced to run on an inclined treadmill until they collapsed from exhaustion. Monkeys had chemicals injected into their brains and backs and were later killed and dissected.
What is the result of these experiments (other than a lot of suffering)? In the past decade, only about a dozen experimental ALS treatments have moved on to human trials after being shown to alleviate the disease in animals. All but one of these treatments failed in humans—and the one that “passed” offers only marginal benefits to humans who suffer from ALS. This massive failure rate is typical for animal experiments, because even though animals feel pain and suffer like we do, their bodies often react completely differently to drugs and diseases. According to the FDA, 92 out of every 100 drugs that pass animal trials fail during the human clinical trial phase.

Sophisticated non-animal testing methods—including in vitro methods, advanced computer-modeling techniques, and studies with human volunteers, among others—have given us everything from the best life-saving HIV drugs to cloned human skin for burn victims. Trying to cure human diseases by relying on outdated and ineffective animal experiments isn’t only cruel—it’s a grave disservice to people who desperately need cures.

Please, help scientists make real progress toward treating and curing human diseases by visiting HumaneSeal.org to find and support charities that never harm animals and which pour their time and resources into advanced, promising, human-relevant cures.

Well said Pam. I have to say I whole heartedly agree. 

But my concern goes deeper than this, why would you chose to promote your charity by wasting a rescource that is sooo important to others? Over 85% of the worlds population lives in the driest half of the planet, 6 - 8 million die annually from the consquences of water related diseases. 6 -8 million! The population of London in 2013 hit a record 8.3 millions thats almost EVERYONE in London every year!

Various estimates indicate that, based on business as usual, ~3.5 planet Earths would be needed to sustain a global population achieving the current lifestyle of the average European or North American.

Let that sink in for a second...

... now watch the video of a Ralph Gloria, a probationary firefighter pouring 4,000 gallons of water on himself. 

4,000 gallons on one man... winning!

And this man is on probation? For the love of God don´t hire him. You won´t find this vido below! Then imagine if everyone of facebook poured a gallon of water on thier head thats 250 million gallons of water wasted. In America this year a man was sentenced to 30 days in prison for collecting rainwater, for harvesting a natural resource that fell from the sky! You will find that link below. Matt Damon saw the problem paid the fine and came up the genius idea of pouring toilet water on his head. I think I´m in love! 

Another great man from the UK  going by the name of Suni Phoenix left us with this gem, I won´t make you wait untill you´re done reading infact  I encourage that you click it now. I think I love him too...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zar6_TvxXgA
https://www.facebook.com/suni.feenix 

We´re not just wasting water, we´re approaching the dangerous realm of canibalism as Sunni  pointed out the ALS foundation is NOT the only foundation, the disease is not the only worth while cause and when the CEOs are taking such a huge cut of the extra 3 million raised so far, this money in the wrong pockets could have been money in the right ones. This water on the tarmac could have been water in tummy. We need to spread giving and congratulate those doing a great job and help the keep doing it. So many causes are kept off the social media grid and out of earshot, find them, support them, help them. Now ALS Foundation is getting a bad rep here as so many other non-profiters are keeping far higher margins, the point is find out before not after the phase sweeps.


My point is not to not give or not to have fun. Who doesn´t love the impromptu water fight? I admit I thought my nephews video was hillarious and before I really knew what a neck nomination was I joined in, (In my defence I was living in Thailand at the time and had little clue of the negative connotations and I did suggest instead of necking booze we hug homeless people, thugs and something else ridiculous, but hey my mistake, totally swept up with the masses thought it was funny) but my point is I´m not setting myself asside, I don´t think I know better, I just think we could all think a little more. I´m off to do some research on Steven Hawkings´s chosen charity the MDNA to se where I can feel good about donating.  http://www.mndassociation.org/

Meanwhile my point is... Think for yourself.

Don´t let facebook trends dictate when and where you give, please give, keep giving keep researching and make a choice from a standpoint of education. You don´t need to make a public display of every good deed you do.

Don´t waste the gifts you have, like water, freedom of choice and the ability to educate yourself! 


Here are some vidoes for you in the spirit of all things positive. 

Another great challenge which my sister somehow found on Prince George of Cambridge´s Facebook page is by a little boy called Albert who could not partake in the challenge as he was born with half a heart who asks for no nominations no donations just join the donar list. 


Matt Damon´s toilet water.
http://www.upworthy.com/the-ice-bucket-challenge-posed-a-problem-for-matt-damon-heres-what-he-did-about-it?c=ufb1

Alberts have a heart video 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zar6_TvxXgA

Steven Hawkins Ice Bucket Challenge.
http://bgr.com/2014/08/28/stephen-hawking-ice-bucket-challenge/

Man Imprisoned for collecting water 
http://www.truth-code.com/2014/08/it-begins-us-citizen-goes-to-jail-for.html

LUNAR BIPOLAR

I{v been watching a lot of Button Poetry lately in attempt to inspire me to write more chapters of my book, today I read an article complaining the Super Moon was too bright to see the meteor shower and I felt it summed up a lot of exactly what is wrong with human nature.

And so I decided to take my smelly old leather notebook to the beach and just sit and marvel at the moon, it was close I could just see in my book to write neatly enough, it realy was truley LUSH. So I just started to write, I had no plan, no clue where it was going and this came out of nowhere. It's meant to be shouted down a microphone in angry prose in charachter (a character which I hasten to add is not actually me) not meant to be read from a page,  but hey hear is my poetry on the subject of the moon enjoy... 

(PS my spell check is Spansih, my uploader is Thai and my keboard and my operating system don{t macth! So please excuse the Grammaer bizzare spellings) 

Lunar Bipolar

Tonight the sky is alive with phenomina twice over
Whilst terminal meteors throw themselves, hurling desperately past our view BUT NOT INTO IT a last vanquishing attempt to be seen.
The moon in all her glory heaves herself closer to the world than she may have been for centuries. 

I sit alone on a empty beach, midnight passed me like a stranger in a crowd.

I scribble scruffy words solely lit by the wintry glow of one. 

I have never seen something so simple, 

SO SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL,

the uncomprehendable encompassing understanding of her closeness to me, 

right HERE 

right NOW,

THIS night. 

Awe inspiring, 

jaw dropping, 

light dripping,

like wax from a candle. 

Each time I change my glance from page to sky 

                                                                 I AM SNOW BLINDED 

                                                                                                       by the Icey queen in all her glory. Pen takes time to find paper, dizzy ink pauses unbalanced on the invisible line. 

Her 'hand-me-down' light reflects the widest stretch of open sea my eyes have ever had the grace to behold her do so. 

At once I see the ocean,               fathomless,                      miles of open seas, in the life of the night, flicker in front of my naked eyes. 

I can feel her cold light on my warm skin, 

So close I can almost touch her, 

feel her silvery surface brush the tips of my stretching fingers.

HER LIGHT       dances across open pages.

MY PEN           an eager suiter relentless in its chase, willing words to eloquently skip the canvass with the same poise and grace as her touch...

                                                                    ... but they do not. 

Fools fingers folded to pen.

Sea crashes Sand. 

Water to earth as two worlds collide into each other, deeper and deeper harder and harder over and over again on the shores end. 

Whilst a third watches on silently. 

Peacefully.

She floats impossibly close, not at the edge of my gaze tonight but inside.

Inside my world.

Inside my reach.

The luminescent drill of wondrous light skips playfully inside the estuary to my side, penetrating the veins that flow deep into the aorta of the earth.

I sit alone, empty beach, bathing platinum glory,  

soaking skin,  

swimming until fingers age to old fruit. 

A chorus of crickets and rolling breaking waves waves are the soundtrack to our soliloquies. The back beat? That of my grateful heart which soon turns to scorn.

Why?

Why oh precious pearl, oh faraway goddess did you not come to me before beaming blinding beauty as I gaze beneath in the shadows, 

why did you not come to me before? 

I have marvelled at you countless times ...

                           

                             ... is this the first that YOU have seen MY face?

The first time you have braved to be close enough to see the tear stains on my withered cheeks, was it not you who drew their salty tides? Was it not you? 
                                                          Was it NOT you.....

And though you glow with all your might...

                                                       You

                                                   are

                                                        just

                                                              a

                                                                REEFLECTION

The reflection of a burning star that once stood in your place,
yet where is your fire?

Charlatan moon, 

burning perigee, 

bearer of falses promises, 

Coward.   

Do not come any closer. I do not want you to see me. No deeper into my world, no deeper into me.

When hope sets between the mountains I beg you look further into the atrocities of the dusk. Or if you do then ...

                         

                                               ... PROMISE TO FORGIVE ME ...

                                               ... my trespasses or help me forgive those that trespass against me!

Spirits poured on jagged rocks from empty bottles, are given wings to fly when that brightest of stars turns the other cheek and looks away in silence. 

When shadows rise blackeningly in the midst of all of these... 

                                                                          there...  

                                                                           YOU... 

                                                                          stand.

Too far to reach and out of grasp.

But you were not always there?

When I turned to the skies screaming sanctuary in cold blood, 

                                                SAVE ME FROM MY OWN POTENTIAL

YOU WERE NOT  THERE

Where are you then? 

Where do you go? 

What beasts can shy away your beauty?

What devils scare the queen of the night into her empty chambers, shot down from hunters gaze.

Lurking in the depth,

a slither of your former beauty slices the skies like a slit in a conquered sail of sinking ship.

Where do you go on nights like these? 

Oh piteous moon, decietful orb of lies, 

are you ever really gone?

Or is this just another trick?

The conjourer takes a bow seemingly exiting the stage but the illusionist looms in the darkness awaiting her prestige. 

                                                                Or?

Have you bathed in your own excellence too long,

Too deep,

Icarus did you fly too high, too far, too soon? 

Do you cower in your shame, cloaked in self loathing behind an abandoned sky?

Do you recoil, repenting sins of the witching hour?

Chastising yourself, a pious punishment to save another night the agony of your wallowing face.

Did you know then that you will transcend again dear moon, or are you lost in the craters filled with lost lovers, broken dreams and mushroom clouds of second hand smoke? 

Transubstantiate darling moon, 

back into the darkness but bursting with light, 

beaming as you scream out into the silence of the world emptied of your brilliance

                                                 IT'S ME ....

                                                     ... its always been me.

                  UP.    

Rising up, up      Into the night until all at once you are all again, you are whole again.

                                           DO YOU SEE ME NOW MOON?  

Are you sorry? Sorry for leaving me alone in cold cruel world? Alone, again and again.... Alone.

Are you sorry that you could never see, until now the currents flowing freely down my face.

Sorry that no matter how close you come it can not change things. 

No amount of light you produce can ever radiate warmth enough to dry these tears.

You are too late.

The sun has gone.

I fear you will spend forever chasing at his heels yet never see his face. Poor naive moon.

Or is it I dear moon that misunderstands?

Is this why you visit here tonight? 

To show me that you are infact right here, that you've always been ...

                                      

                                        ...here.

Was it I that walked astray? 

Each setting of the faithful day, each time I lost my way, when the tsunami of doubts cascaded against the ever eroding cracks in my fearful heart. 

Each time I fell prey to all manner things

and all manner of men. 

When my hands held things they should never have held, 

when hands touched mine that weren't invited.

When my mouth screamed help

And my heart felt pain

When eyes witnessed pain

And my mouth screamed nothing.

You were there

You saw it all.

Tonight IS a Supermoon, cloak and dagger, caped crusader

X-ray vision sees deep into my nigthshade soul and bids me let loose,

bright white laser beams cut away the rough and bruised edges heavy on my heart so I can breath again,

shrink rays tackle the pain, illuminate all my wrongdoings and absolve my entirety.

Yes tonight is a Superemoon.

Yet I sit on an empty beach alone? 

This miracle clashes like titans with another,

somewhere in this same sky sky a shower of meteors sink with titanic proportions.

                          Tonight a thousands stars will fall...

... Never to be rescued. No one on land will see thier final hour, in the cold dead sea of night they will make no sound 

Nobody will see

nobody will hear. 

They will simply just be gone.

Oh cunning bittersweet beautiful enigma how poetic of you to chose this night of all nights to stage your crescendo. Nobody is interested in the absolute magic of one, when there's the possibility of many. And so tonight theSupermoon shines on a world with thier backs turned, complaining the glow is blocking thier view.

I guess this moon is just too bright for some.