Sit Down on this Couch (With a Shrink)


To sit down on this couch, I never thought

I’d be here, yet this strange life has brought

Me to this place, where I’ve become wrought

With these anxieties that have me caught

In the mousetrap of crippling past vocations

Haunting my mind and stilting aspirations

So here I find myself sharing my vexations

With a stranger, a long way off from elation

I sit down on this couch, not to think

But to carve open my head to a shrink

And let him see inside, how I just sink

Sometimes under life’s weight, the brink

Of fragility and battened up tears

Vulnerability and fattened up fears

That I try to hide but truth always rears

When nerves are fried, breakdown nears

To sit down on this couch, I now believe

Is the beginning of the long path to retrieve

The sense of balance and peace to conceive

Medicine for the silence and keys to relieve

The pressure that’s been building up inside

Gets less, the more I’m willing to confide

The more I’m willing to swallow my old pride

And learn the lessons that need to be applied

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THERE ARE FATHERS….


There are…

Fathers who should never have been

They simply weren’t designed

Nor had they desired

The responsibility which comes

With the title that they craved

They’ll never be called dad.

And as a result, have maligned

The holy sacrament of fatherhood

By their wilful abuse or neglect

Of their progeny, their seed

The way they defile and reject

Put their own needs

Ahead of their offspring

And fail to protect

As a result,

 

There are…

Mothers who are fathers too

Who get on with the business

Of parenting quietly, out of view

Without complaint

Who nurture and provide

For their child

Doing the work of two

In place of an absent father

Absent without leave.

Too many absences

Not enough time to retrieve

Lost moments because

You were scared or unready

Such mothers deserve

Special praise.

 

There are…

Fathers who have yet to be

Predestined if you will

Fantastic and naturally inclined

To fatherhood

Who would have been

Protective, caring, loving,

Patient and hands on

Always there.

But they could never find

The right partner

Or nature let them down

Playing tricks with

Their masculinity

Leaving them with a low count

And high emptiness

Doesn’t seem right.

 

Copyright of and

Written by Ken Hume

09/10/2017

A Man from Mars


A man from Mars
A tortured soul
An alien

Fallen from the stars

Far from home

Separated from his Venus

Now destined to roam

As a restless wanderer
Lost and alone
Cast out of the heavens

To atone

For some ancient sin
You can see the scars

You can see the wrong

 

He walks amongst us

From time to time

Only when he must

Only when he tries

To kill the loneliness

To uncover the rhyme

And reason for this test

Sometimes

He gazes towards the skies

Amidst the crowds

For a glimpse

Of the divine

To push through the clouds

And restore his sight

 

Then a light appears

And the spaceship descends

To take him back home

To bring his time on earth to an end

 

We are all aliens in a play

Strangers from distant planets

Looking for a way

To connect with other strangers

To make our stay

A little less lonely

More than okay.

To bring a little light

To bring a little ray

Of the supernatural

Into our everyday

 

Written by and copyrighted to Ken Hume

07/10/2017

 

 

A SHADOW CAST


“Are you John Hume’s son?”

They would inquire,
Once they had caught wind of my surname
“I am”
Came the immediate; proud reply.
“Nothing to do with his namesake John Hume up in the North by any chance”
They would pursue.
Both men of peace. Both much respected.

“I worked with your father when he was Hospital Administrator”
“I was in the Civil Defence with your dad”
“I used to work with him in the court house”
“Ah, I remember working with John in Kilroy’s”
“Didn’t he do the Mater Hospital Pools?”
“He was a good man. A kind man. Always had time for everybody.
Was an absolute gent. Always got things done. Always had a smile
On his face.”

“Who is this man?” I thought to myself
This man they call John Hume
The man with a plan
This man of whom they speak
With such fondness and high regard.
With veneration almost
As though he were a saint
To be revered.
A giant among men
Chosen to walk among us mere mortals
Without equal.
Yet treating everyone equally
Such high standards
Such lofty heights
Such charm and charisma.
I did not really know this man
Nor he me.
He was a stranger to me.
And I to him.
A mystery wrapped in an enigma.
Not a patch on him
Yet cut from his cloth
So something of him
Must have rubbed off on me
Right?!

Yet he loved me unconditionally
Encouraged my talents
Embraced the path I chose to walk,
Even though it wasn’t pensionable
Nor secure
Walking the extra mile with us all
Bending over backwards to support
Always expressed his pride in me,
Via our mutual translator:
My mum. His wife.
He said to her
“I wish I had Ken’s way with words”
I said to her
“I wish I had my dad’s way with people”

You cast a large shadow over us all dad
Spreading far back into a time before I began
Before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye
Comforting and warm as a thick blanket
Suffocating and inspiring in equal measure.
Your name carried so much substance
And character. Had a gravity to it
So loaded with expectation and history
That I sometimes stumbled under its weight
A weight that I’m only now learning to carry
And embrace.

A rich tapestry of experiences
Sewn together by the same name
By the same man. Bound
Together forever by
The same man’s sorrow
Which made one family, two.
One family’s loss
Became another families birth
Multiplying his legacy
And casting his shadow
Way beyond what he could
Have ever imagined.

Written by Ken Hume
09/10/2015
Copyright of Ken Hume 2015

 

Consumed By Grace


Grace Anne Mary Hume

You are a gift from God

A new flower bloomed

From just a seed in the womb

Of your adoring mother

You have me smitten with your

Mischievous smile and inquisitive gaze

How your tiny hands firmly grasp the flimsy fabric of my grey jumper

As I walk around the floor singing nursery rhymes

Rubbing your back, patting it to wind you

Your head draped across my left shoulder

Eyes darting round the room, taking everything in

Smiling. Babbling. Cooing.

Then suddenly. Burp. Puck, Bleurgh

All over my shoulder. All over my jeans

All over Mammy’s PJ’s. The couch.

Everywhere.

Evidence of you.

Eau de Puck, your mum’s new fragrance

A relieved smile. A grateful sigh

Now adorn your face.

Or how your deep blue eyes beseech me

Study me. Question me. And know me,

All at once

Whilst you play with your mum

Or tear into your milk with a ravenous hunger

As if it was the last bottle that you’d ever have

Fingers tightly wrapped around mine

In case I dare try to take the bottle away from you again

 

You consume us Grace

With the cuteness of your face

We are overcome by love

And wonderment for you.

Our present from above

 

Copyright of Ken Hume

21/09/17

In the Name of


 

In the name of the Father,

Son and Holy Spirit

I baptise you

Water poured

On baby’s head

3 times

To sanctify her

Immortal soul

To ensure her

Eternal safety

To embark her

On her spiritual journey

Welcome her

Into the Catholic Church

Is she aware of what’s going on?

Is she completely oblivious?

Does it guarantee any of the above?

I don’t know.

I am torn.

I am conflicted

Between 2 faiths

Long evicted

From my thinking

 

 

Therein lies the rub

For I do not want her

To be faithless

Or without belief

Either in a higher power

Or herself.

For I know how empty

And hopeless

This can be.

 

Easter Rising of My Heart


“EASTER RISING OF MY HEART
(Rebellion of Love)

On 29th April 1916,
After 6 days of ferocious fighting
Heavy losses; bloodied pavements
Battered ideals
Padraig Pearse agreed
To the unconditional surrender of arms
To the British Army.
They had made their statement
To the world.
Fiercely they had fought their fight,
Shed their blood
Then bravely laid down their lives
In the hope for a new; liberated Ireland.

100 years later
(Tired of waging constant war with myself
Of battling the darker side of me
Rebelling against the intimacy I craved
Keeping everybody at arm’s length
For fear of getting hurt)
On 29th of April, 2016, I Ken Hume
Agree to the unconditional surrender
Of my arms… my legs, my mind,
Heart, body and soul
To the ruler of my Island
President of my Republic
To the Queen of my Empire.
Anne-Marie Stones.

Royal, Unbowed
I will gladly bow to the knee to her.
My very own Countess Markievicz
Fiery; principled; headstrong
Courageous and compassionate
Willing to sacrifice herself
For the greater good of others
Willing to die for her beliefs
Willing to stand up
For the rights and liberties
Of those less fortunate than herself

This is the Easter Rising of my Heart
For this Easter Rising I will start
A Rebellion of Love
A Rebellion that will shove
Back all the foreign forces
That have invaded my soul
And sought to take control
A Rebellion
That will break down the walls
I’ve built around my heart

I will now gladly surrender
I will now gladly empty my guns
And lay down my arms
I will stop fighting
I will wave the white flag
And embrace the very thing
Of which I’ve lived in fear
The vulnerability of loving completely
And of being loved.

In the Easter Rising of my Heart,
I was shot.
Fatally wounded by her unconditional love
For me.
A bullet of undying affection forever lodged in my heart
A new; liberated me emerged from the rubble
Dead to self.
Alive to love.

This is the Easter Rising of my Heart
For this Easter Rising I will start
A Rebellion of Love.”

A Shadow Cast


“Are you John Hume’s son?”

They would inquire,
Once they had caught wind of my surname
“I am”
Came the immediate; proud reply.
“Nothing to do with his namesake John Hume up in the North by any chance”
They would pursue.
Both men of peace. Both much respected.

“I worked with your father when he was Hospital Administrator”
“I was in the Civil Defence with your dad”
“I used to work with him in the court house”
“Ah, I remember working with John in Kilroy’s”
“Didn’t he do the Mater Hospital Pools?”
“He was a good man. A kind man. Always had time for everybody.
Was an absolute gent. Always got things done. Always had a smile
On his face.”

“Who is this man?” I thought to myself
This man they call John Hume
The man with a plan
This man of whom they speak
With such fondness and high regard.
With veneration almost
As though he were a saint
To be revered.
A giant among men
Chosen to walk among us mere mortals
Without equal.
Yet treating everyone equally
Such high standards
Such lofty heights
Such charm and charisma.
I did not really know this man
Nor he me.
He was a stranger to me.
And I to him.
A mystery wrapped in an enigma.
Not a patch on him
Yet cut from his cloth
So something of him
Must have rubbed off on me
Right?!

Yet he loved me unconditionally
Encouraged my talents
Embraced the path I chose to walk,
Even though it wasn’t pensionable
Nor secure
Walking the extra mile with us all
Bending over backwards to support
Always expressed his pride in me,
Via our mutual translator:
My mum. His wife.
He said to her
“I wish I had Ken’s way with words”
I said to her
“I wish I had my dad’s way with people”

You cast a large shadow over us all dad
Spreading far back into a time before I began
Before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye
Comforting and warm as a thick blanket
Suffocating and inspiring in equal measure.
Your name carried so much substance
And character. Had a gravity to it
So loaded with expectation and history
That I sometimes stumbled under its weight
A weight that I’m only now learning to carry
And embrace.

A rich tapestry of experiences
Sewn together by the same name
By the same man. Bound
Together forever by
The same man’s sorrow
Which made one family, two.
One family’s loss
Became another families birth
Multiplying his legacy
And casting his shadow
Way beyond what he could
Have ever imagined.

Written by Ken Hume
09/10/2015
Copyright of Ken Hume 2015

Social Networking Soap Opera


Another “private” family matter
Played out in public
On Facebook’s cluttered wall
A social-networking soap opera
With more drama in a day
Than a week of Eastenders
One couple’s nasty break-up
Someone else’s attention seeking bender
It’s an hourly episode
24 hours a day
Where you can watch people’s lives implode
While they strive to play
Out their laptop characters
For the Hollyoaks generation
Facebook pokes; procreation
Beginning & ending of
Relationships
On a small screen scale
Binning & rending of
Hearts
Where friendships
Are for sale
A pretty pose
A silly face
Take off your clothes
Happy disgrace
All to find & compose
A profile pic
A clever status
That folk will click
Like on
Maybe share
Comment on
Or just stare
At all your photos
Breathing ground for stalkers
Feeding ground for mockers
Saying whatever they want
Without regard for font
Proper spelling or punctuation
Selling their PlayStation
And losing their souls
While confusing their roles
Between real life
And imaginary
Inventing strife
With defamatory
Statements & comments
It’s all too common
Collecting friends
Like stamps
Rejecting friends
To revamp
Your social circle
Slag off
Angela Merkle
21st century definition
Of being ‘cool’
You need a revision
Get off your stool
Or the high-horse
That is Facebook
More like erase-book
Because you’re erasing
Your old self
And embracing
Your no-self
From a big fish
In a small pond
You got your wish
Your identity absconds
You’re now a small fish
Swallowed up by
The internet sharks
The twitter set smarks
Is it everything you hoped for
Is it what you eloped for?

Written by Ken Hume

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