Inhale

I have been embracing my spirituality lately and it feel so good. I love the Buddhist teachings but also love astrology, oracle cards, and Western and Eastern philosophy, so am a bit of a spiritual whore! I meditate every day and am already reaping the benefits.

I’m cultivating a lotus
from within

Inhale, Exhale
Each breath shapes
a sigh of a promise
A birthing phenomenon
grips my throat
like fingers around a
pessimist’s neck
Squeezing the negativity
like some kind of cosmic toothpaste

Oxygen tangoes pirouette on the tongues
of the would be Buddhas
Leaving behind the
hate and the frustrate
and the wicked glimmers of
acid lipped negative
Psalms and hallelujahs
ring out to Jesus
Whilst the mantras of monks
whisper to miracle of enlightenment

Each mindful moment
dissolving on my mind
Teasing on the point
of nothingness
Looking between the silence
to find…the serenity
seeping into my sanguine senses
To suffer is to die
Whilst to live in peace
is as empty as infinity
With a compassion fuelled heart
and a mind as awake
as a songbird singing sonnets
in a summer dawn

My life is a pavement
My heart is a flower
Seeking solace between the cracks
and refuge in my inner power

Existence is a privilege
we often denigrate
With our pills and our knives
And our poison dart words
echoing in chasms of dissonance
And now I must regenerate
integrate
embrace

Miracles can shine through
the darkest twilights
Each point of consciousness
a birthing star
Each glimmer has a home in faith
My consciousness can reach as far…
as eternity

I’m cultivating a lotus from within

Inhale, exhale
The shoulds and coulds
shout their moralistic monologues
holding me hostage
at the tip of a therapist’s theorem
My contradicted spirit
I did, but I didn’t
I can, but I can’t
It is, but it isn’t
And I’m doing my best
to assimilate the notion
That meditation can
spring into motion
transformation

And I am a thoughtless thought
Drowning in a spiritual thirst
My darkness a candle that’s flickering and dying
My light a torch setting fire to the world

I’m cultivating a lotus within
Inhale, Exhale
I am
the stillness
within

©2020 Sarah Drury

Pride

PRIDE

When I was a child
girls stole sugar kisses on boys’ muddy lips
Champagne toasts to wedded men and women
My friends all had mothers and fathers
even if they didn’t know them
My storybooks were full of handsome princes
kissing apple-lipped maidens
Pages after pages were bullshit laden
And the TV was full of girls with boys
and happy-ever-after heterosexuality
And that was the myth of sexuality
Back in the day

We hurled around ‘insults’ that our mates were lesbos
And the lads were gay
But we didn’t realise we were buying into
a system of bitter prejudice and discrimination
Witch hunts, gay shaming and condemnation
and I never thought that one day
I would be ‘them’

We never saw two female lips entwined in a loving kiss
or two males in a passionate embrace
Now it is still a spectacle
consigned to its own sordid category
a ‘perverted disgrace’
The older generation still hushly whisper
‘ooo he’s gay you know’ and oppose the notion
of gay adoption and media exposure
God forbid the media give their viewing a promotion
They still feel queasy to the stomach
when they see that love is not just
boy meets girl

I am glad we now live in a generation where
love is becoming less monochrome
Where the lgbt community can live a life less secluded and alone
And rainbows fill a sky of potential
for love and acceptance to prosper
Gay is becoming more mainstream
And we don’t cower ashamedly in molehills anymore

So why do I live life in a masquerade ball?
Partially disguised
Why so long to free myself from my trap of conventionality?
For the sake of convention and congeniality
I was caught up for years in the boy-girl story
Of the prince and princess happy ever after
Now I am awake and still feel the stigma
The sting of years of expectation
Like a queen in a PRIDE parade
Saying fuck you to the hetero charade
and wearing my mask
when I truly want to be
exposed and naked

©2020 Sarah Drury

I Had a Dream

I thought about ending it all
of that sweet release
as I drifted off to sleep
Would it be all devils and pitchforks
and sunstroke in Hell?
Or would it be angels and clouds
and harps and Prozac?

And I had a dream
Like Martin Luther King
Except in mine I was knocking on
the doors of heaven
and they were locked
It said no mentally ill in here
And at first I thought maybe
they hadn’t seen
my clean heart
I had showered today and
that was a start
I didn’t look like a hooker
with my fuck me heels
and ripe cherry pout
So let me in

And I had a dream
like Martin Luther King
that even in my darkest hour
With pills in my palms
and debating the relevance of
my existence
Perceptions of the mentally ill
Would lose their sting of sour
Mental, loony, crackpot, psycho
lunatic, schizo
negative, negative, negative, negative
Tie me in a straight jacket
Lock me in a padded cell
And don’t forget the lithium!

And I had a dream
like Martin Luther king
But the people of colour
were free
and the mentally ill were slaves
And society was a hotbed of prejudice
And they put us in glass cages
And they paid a pound a peek
And they laughed
and they laughed
and they laughed

And I had a dream
Like Martin Luther King
where I knocked on Heaven’s door
and it was closed
Like the job applications
Like the lovers I’d had
Like the aspirations of being
‘normal’
Like my fake faced friends
Like my destiny

And I thought of the one thing
that tethers me to this Earth
And his tiny hand slipped in mine
And his tender heart healed my wounds
And I knew heaven
didn’t need another angel

©2020 Sarah Drury

Yoga

I have only tried Yoga once, but it went something like this….

I have a golden Buddha
and he spoke to me
He thought it time
I broaden my spirituality
So, I vowed to go to a yoga class

Well I walked into the room
and there were twenty women
with their attitudes crass
and their notions of privilege
and pretentious class
And I knew all along
they were eyeing up
my fat ass
in all its lycra glory

I knew Buddha would’ve been
very disappointed
in these women
Who think they
have been appointed
the right to hold
their prejudice
in their judgmental minds
Where are the
spiritual tenets of
being generous, being kind?
Being human?

Flexibility is not my strong point
I can’t get my leg behind my ear
I daren’t do that for fear
I would fart
or split my pants
If they want me to do
the eight angle Astavakrasana
I haven’t got
a fucking chance
I’m more a reclining
sort of person

I don’t think my can of Pepsi
went down too well
For them it was some sort
of sugary hell
With their bottles
of Aqua Vitae
and their sorry snacks
Ecologically friendly
cardboard packs
Full of calorie hate
Poncey quinoa
Apricots and dates
And I may as well have
pulled a coronary out of
my bag when
I took out my
Mars Bar

I’ve said to Buddha
Yoga’s not for me
I will meditate
I will become a fucking tree
I was getting so bloody
irate
at the pretension
I couldn’t cope with the
amount of negative attention
I was getting as a
‘Fat bitch’
So I left

Maybe I will try quinoa though…

©2020 Sarah Drury

Between the Wars

Indigo blue
Inky canvas
One eye open
The other protesting
The estate slumbers
Another day of lockdown
A neighbourhood painted
In shades of apathy
As the world mourns
Its sorry dead

Beryl wakes at the crow
Of the cockerel
Says hello to her husband
Enjoying a pint in Heaven
For the last twenty years
Says a prayer to the virgin Mary
And asks Jesus to save her soul
From the coronavirus
God is her insurance policy
As she ain’t finished yet
In this heathen world

It reminds her of the war
But the bombs don’t fall
And the men aren’t swallowed
Into certain suicide
She would cower inside the
Air raid shelter
As the Luftwaffe played
Russian roulette
Missiles raining down
Picking off saints and sinners alike
And she prayed to Jesus
And he did good

Now the bombs are silent
Yet the killer is stealth-like
Stealing souls
Like a pandemic shoplifter
Light fingered Kelly
Is in good company
Though I’m sure the virus
Ain’t interested in Maybelline
Or L’oreal

Churchill led the nation
Now we have the Tories
No let up from fear mongering
As the media perform
In their catastrophic circus
And the BBC peddle tragedy
Like Boris Johnson is MacBeth
Whilst the government deny
Their role
In digging mass graves
To herd the old
And vulnerable in

She tucks into her egg
And Tetley’s
Another day of inane daytime TV
She heard that people Facetime
But she has no tribe
Jesus is her saviour
And God is her father
And the Virgin Mary
Sheds a tear
For the children
She lost

©2020 Sarah Drury