loss

Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

Folder: 
Poems

 Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds. Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 Although already mentioned in bio, I am a scientist, a microbiologist (traditional and current bioinformatics whole genome sequencing variety). I also admit I received payment from Zoetis, a pharmacy company, which equated to AUS 30c/hour. 

 

World AIDS Day on December 1st is a time for reflection, remembrance, and raising awareness about the ongoing fight against HIV/AIDS. I had hoped to share this poem in time for the occasion, but the weight of the topic and the desire to do it justice meant I simply ran out of time, spoons, and headspace to complete it. I had resigned myself to waiting until next year to perfect the piece.

 

 

However, a recent comment I encountered gave me pause. It related to the pernicious conspiracy theory that HIV is a man-made virus, a falsehood popularised by "cultropreneurials" and denialists whose views are often rooted in classism, racism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of prejudice. 

 

This dangerous misinformation continues to spread, causing actual harm to individuals and communities affected by HIV/AIDS.

 

 

In light of this, I felt compelled to share the poem now, even in its imperfect state, as a small act of resistance against the echoes of deception that still reverberate. 

 

 

The poem "Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope" attempts to grapple with the complex history and ongoing reality of the HIV/AIDS epidemic.

 

It begins by acknowledging the whispers of conspiracy, the sinister seeds of doubt sown by those profiting from fear and mistrust. 

 

The poem then delves into the personal battles fought by those living with HIV/AIDS and the crushing weight of stigma, isolation, and uncertainty they face.

 

 

The story of Michel Simonin, a French activist who fought tirelessly to break the silence around AIDS in the 1980s, is a thread of resilience woven throughout the poem. His courage in the face of cruel stigma and his refusal to be silenced are a testament to the unbreakable human spirit.

 

 

As the poem unfolds, it turns to the illuminating power of science, unravelling the viral code through advanced sequencing techniques like WGS and NGS. The beauty and complexity of evolution are juxtaposed against the echoes of deception that continue to shatter lives.

 

 

The poem is a call to action, an invitation to stand together in this intimate war, armed with empathy, compassion, and truth. It speaks to the transformative power of resilience, the alchemy of turning scars into strength, pain into wisdom.

 

 

Ultimately, "Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope" is a tribute to the tapestry of human existence, the threads of connection that bind us together in the face of unimaginable challenges. It is a reminder that each breath, each moment, is a choice - to survive, to thrive, to raise our voices in an authentic chorus of hope.

 

 

As we navigate the complex landscape of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, may we hold fast to the compass of science, the light of truth, and the power of our shared humanity. Let this poem be a small thread in the larger tapestry of our ongoing struggle, a testament to the unbreakable spirit that resides within us all.

Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

Folder: 
Poems

 Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds.
Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 Although my bio mentions that I am a scientist and a microbiologist (of the traditional and current bioinformatics whole genome sequencing variety), I also admit I received payment from Zoetis, a pharmacy company, for AUS 30c/hour. 

 

World AIDS  Day on December 1st is a time for reflection, remembrance, and awareness raising about the ongoing fight against HIV/AIDS. I had hoped to share this poem in time for the occasion, but the weight of the topic and the desire to do it justice meant I ran out of time, spoons, and headspace to complete it. I had resigned myself to waiting until next year to perfect the piece.

 

 

However, a recent comment I encountered gave me pause. It related to the pernicious conspiracy theory that HIV is a man-made virus, a falsehood popularised by "cultropreneurials" and denialists whose views are often rooted in classism, racism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of prejudice. 

 

This dangerous misinformation continues to spread, causing actual harm to individuals and communities affected by HIV/AIDS.

 

 

In light of this, I felt compelled to share the poem now, even in its imperfect state, as a small act of resistance against the echoes of deception that still reverberate. 

 

 

The poem "Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope" attempts to grapple with the complex history and ongoing reality of the HIV/AIDS epidemic.

 

It begins by acknowledging the whispers of conspiracy, the sinister seeds of doubt sown by those profiting from fear and mistrust. 

 

The poem then delves into the personal battles fought by those living with HIV/AIDS and the crushing weight of stigma, isolation, and uncertainty they face.

 

 

The story of Michel Simonin, a French activist who tirelessly fought to break the silence around AIDS in the 1980s, is a thread of resilience woven throughout the poem. His courage in the face of cruel stigma and his refusal to be silenced are testaments to the unbreakable human spirit.

 

 

As the poem unfolds, it turns to the illuminating power of science, unravelling the viral code through advanced sequencing techniques like WGS and NGS. The beauty and complexity of evolution are juxtaposed against the echoes of deception that continue to shatter lives.

 

 

The poem is a call to action, an invitation to stand together in this intimate war, armed with empathy, compassion, and truth. It speaks to the transformative power of resilience, the alchemy of turning scars into strength, pain into wisdom.

 

 

Ultimately, "Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope" is a tribute to the tapestry of human existence, the threads of connection that bind us together in the face of unimaginable challenges. It reminds us that each breath, each moment, is a choice—to survive, to thrive, to raise our voices in an authentic chorus of hope.

 

 

As we navigate the complex landscape of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, may we hold fast to the compass of science, the light of truth, and the power of our shared humanity. Let this poem be a small thread in the larger tapestry of our ongoing struggle, a testament to the unbreakable spirit that resides within us all.

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Discordant Symphony




Discordant Note

Scratching, floating

Hanging in the air

 

 

Pressure ebbs and flows 

Headpiece filled with straw

 

 

A twisted melody lingers

Confusion and rage entwined 

Resentment's bitter sting

Wrestles with sorrow's whine

 

 

Innocence stolen, trust shattered

By hands meant to protect

 

 

The child within still bleeds

Silently searching, begging for respect 

 

 

Justice denied, our secrets buried

Master manipulator 

A monster cloaked in lies

 

 

Crimes still hidden 

Despite Death's hand

Too late for tortured cries

 

 

Feet of clay now returned to dust

From whence they darkly came

Leaving behind a tangled mess

Of trauma, grief and shame 

 

 

The urge to desecrate, destroy

Wage war upon their grave

Wrestling with guilt, pity and relief 

Yes, he is no more

But I am not yet saved

 

 

This victory feels hollow 

An unearned, empty gift

When wounds still pulse and throb

No closure, the burdens unshift 

 

 

 

I imagine looking for the tombstone,

Fists and soul clenched tight,

Anger, disgust, and rage.

 

 

Shadows cast doubt over my morals,

Compass dysfunctional, truth estranged.

Like Basque tongues tangled with Ainu clicks,

A labyrinth of questions ethics inflicts.

 

 

No tears of mourning shed

No idea the monster was laid to rest

Three years later, a happy accident

Release a demon locked deep in my chest

 

 

How to reconcile the little child

Who needed love and care

With the person now made to carry

This discordant note hanging in the air

 

 

In the depths of this discordance 

Frustration and confusion still rise

Dare I confront the shadows

Curse their peaceful demise?

 

 

Every anguished scream swallowed 

Each day, coerced, suffocated in silence

Transmuting years of buried aches

Why not release in rightful fierce violence?

 

 

Through serpentine paths of healing

Piece by shattered piece remade,

Scars shimmering with untold stories 

Of battles braved and traumas mourned

 

 

In owning all that was endured

By innocent hands and shattered trust

Languidly learning to cradle, soothe

My inner child waiting, weeping in the dust

 

 

Each breath is an act of bravery

Every step is defiant, resolute 

Reclaiming fractured narratives

No longer voiceless or mute

Through my poetry, I find release

May its rhythm grant me peace.

 

 

This journey from victim to victor

Is paved with shards of broken self

Reassembled by courageous hands

Into mosaics of pain and health 

 

 

A symphony of survival

Echoes in the spaces in between

I cannot rewrite my cruel history 

I yearn like others to live and dream

 

 

Beyond the reach of phantom hands

That sought to break and steal and mar

I rise in revolutionary softness

Tempered by battles, reminded by scars

 

 

The discordant note, a stubborn seed, 

Resists the soil, its tyranny decreed, 

Yet woven slow, within the larger frame, 

An ostinato may conquer its shame, 

Finds solace in the weave, a timeless plea, 

Echoing Eliot, Stravinsky rewrites history. 



Author's Notes/Comments: 

I found out this morning (yesterday now), some 13–14 odd hours ago – whilst mindlessly googling, that a person who manipulated and molested me as a child had passed away (almost three years ago).

 

The obituary stated that they died “Peacefully” whilst being cared for by [redacted]. The conflicting emotions are intense – that they can still torture from the grave – exhausting.

 

While dealing with this flood of emotion and wrestling with my conscience, I came across a poem fragment on my phone that I started to write a few years back. The result of what it has morphed into can be found below.

 

I know this poem is far from complete, but I needed to get it out therapeutically. So, if you wish to comment, you are welcome to critique - however, strictly with empathy and compassion. 

Silent Night, Shattered Sight (Neurodivergent Nightmare)

 

 

Amidst the onslaught of festive frenzy,
Neurodivergent minds reel a tempest here to sear.
Senses assaulted, relentlessly vexed,
Christmas chaos leaves us perplexed.


Masking's breaking, taking weight, a suffocating shroud,
Authenticity lost in the neurotypical crowd.
ADHD autism's ache, an adult's disgrace,
So, invisible struggles are present in this merry place.


Pain's persistent, pounding refrain, an endless score,
Fibromyalgia's claws, forever tore.
Spine curved like a question mark,
Vertigo's dance, a dizzying arc.


Poverty's clutch cuts deep, leave plans in disarray,
Opportunities vanish, like mist in the day.
Isolation, depression, chronic cursed alone,
In a world where bonds stretch, then are gone.


Trauma mars, leaves scars, rape's brutal seal,
cPTSD's tortures - terrors forever real.
Triggers flashbacks, a minefield within,
Clock tick-tocks, the night's wearing thin.


Passivity creeps in just like a mischievous elf,
A sinister spirit keeps us captive, steals our self.
Painfully forcing out a cry, on deaf ears they fall,
"You knew they wouldn't", it sneers, "more unanswered calls".


In despair's abyss, hope's flicker dies,
As the world rejoices, behind a joyful disguise.
Countless unseen battles and unheard cries,
Anguish, desperation, pain, do naked eyes lie?


To those who feign concern, a warning rings clear,
Your platitudes and neglect, a deafening sneer.
For in the depths of despair, a reckoning brews,
When the desperate depart, with nothing to lose.


In the sombre, silent night, when alienation reigns,
The psyche buckles, under the weight of its chains.
Remember, you who turned a blind eye,
The blood on your hands as the outcast dies.


So let the silence shatter, let the truth be known,
For the neglected and broken, forever alone.
May their memory haunt, may their absence resound,
A damning indictment, of the help never found.


Silently in the night, isolation's doom looms,
For those left to rot, in desolation's tombs.
A scourge on false kindness, on empathy's dearth,
As the forgotten depart, from this merciless Earth.


A warning to those who still pretend to care,
Of the anguish hidden, behind festive despair's lair.
Family friends forsaken in desolation's night,
Cast aside, ignored as time ticks on, year's plight.


In the silent night, a dirge ascends,
For those struggling, lost at the year's end.
Society's apathy, an unpalatable bitter pill,
Washed down with tears, we fade away against our will.


Let the silence break; let the truth be told,
Of the torment endured, the agony untold.
In summer's sweat, a reckoning should rise,
Power imbalances now, no escape our fate's demise.


May our ghosts haunt the whole season bright,
Reminding us of those for whom this time's a blight.
In the season's glare, coalescing shadows reign,
Numerous reasons, curses feeding this pain.


A moment of stillness, amidst the hurricane,
A flicker of self, in the endless pain.
Battered and bruised, yet still we stand,
In defiance of a world, that refuses to understand.


Whilst it is true, many times I have tried,
But for my animals, it is on me that they rely.
As night follows day and day follows night,
Dark forces frantically fighting, stealing my fight.


Hope's a medicine, both a curse and a sure cure,
Healing if repeatedly given - the source pure.
Decidedly dangerous, deadly, dangled as a prize,
Breaking faith's wraith, soon you and society they'll despise.


A pox on ableism, on empathy's lack,
As we vanish slowly, our lives off-track.
In the silent night, our requiem it plays,
The forgotten ones, left on birthdays and holidays.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Like all entries in this anthology - this is raw, unflinching (oddly still with residual masking) and has the potential to offend or upset - this is my truth. So take this as another CW. 

Archeology of Understanding

Folder: 
2024

In the quiet aftermath, the word "quit" echoes,  

A heavy silence in the corridors of memory.  

A single word, a door to myriad pathways,  

Each avenue intertwining, meandering through the fog.

 

Clues lie hidden in the shadows cast by our verses,  

Fleeting glimpses of understanding,  

Yet certainty eludes us, at every turn it seems:

Answers remain just out of reach.

 

We, the ones left behind, grasp at fragments,  

Picking up the pieces, mending the void,  

Trying to fill the space they once occupied,  

Wrestling with the darkness they left

 

Is it a black hole we flee from, or one we warp through?  

In this spiral of grief and questioning,  

The future holds for us its secrets

Only time will reveal if we will find clarity or remain lost.

 

In these moments, we must carry on,  

Walking paths both light and shadowed,  

Seeking meaning in the echoes,  

Finding strength in the act of continuing.

 

The pursuit of happiness, a delicate balance,  

Not a guarantee but a quest,  

In the face of despair, we persevere,  

For in the journey, we find our strength.




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We'll Rebuild

 

In the valley where the rivers ran,

Fields of green turned to barren land.

Hurricane Helene swept through like a thief.

Took everything, left nothing but grief.

Generations built these walls.

Now they crumble, now they fall.

We look to the skies, but the rain won't cease.

Where's the help? Where's the peace?

 

Echoes of laughter in the flooded streets.

Memories linger where the heart still beats.

From the mountains to the plains.

We're bound by the losses, bound by the pain.

The rain keeps pouring, the wind still howls.

But through the darkness, hear the calls.

Neighbors helping neighbors, hand in hand.

We’ll rise up, like only the Appalachia can.  

 

The land may be battered, but our spirits won’t break.

With every lost tree, there’s a new road to make.

Let’s gather the pieces, let’s light up the night.

We’ll show the world how we fight for what’s right.

 

We the people, we will rise,

From the debris, from the cries,

Together we'll mend what’s torn apart,

With our hands and with our hearts.

The government’s silence, a bitter truth,

Shaming its people, completely aloof!

A generational loss, but we’ll stand tall.

We'll come together, we’ll rebuild it all.

 

 Here’s to the future, with hope in our eyes.

Together we’ll thrive, we’ll reach for the skies.

Through the pain and the sorrow, we’ll find a way.

We the people, we'll rebuild each day.

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hearts Go Out To Our Appalachia Family. Complete loss and devastation across the land. Government not doing anything to help. Neighbors helping neighbors. We The People Will Rebuild! 

I also made this into a song using Suno. 

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Dear Chester

Folder: 
New Lyrics

 

Dear Chester,

The first time I heard you left

It put a huge void in my soul

Knowing I'd never hear your words again

Made me break down and lose control

 

And although you didn't know me

You inspired and you showed me

The side of you that's a part of me

The pain I felt in your melody

 

But your memory will never fade

You'll be remembered just the same 

Hmm, and no one else can take your place

And you should know this world won't be the same

 

Dear Chester,

I was a kid at your stage

But I have grown so much since then

And I still recall the crowd and the cheers

That amazing experience

 

And although you didn't know me

You inspired and you showed me 

The side of you that's a part of me 

The pain I felt in your melody 

 

But your memory will never fade

You'll be remembered just the same

Hmm, and no one else can take your place

And you should know this world won't be the same

 

And your energy 

Resonates with me

Set your spirit free

Set your spirit free

Set your spirit free

Set your spirit free

 

But your memory will never fade (set your spirit free)

You'll be remembered just the same (set your spirit free)

Hmm, and no one else can take your place (set your spirit free)

You should know that this world won't be the same

 

Dear Chester,

Dear Chester 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

6/14/24

 

This is my tribute/homage to Chester Bennington (vocals- Linkin Park) 3/20/1976 - 7/20/2017

 

R.I.P

 

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Lausa

A DARK VEIL SO THIN,
THE CHASM WIDER THAN THOUGHT,
THE PAIN SOMETIMES FELT?
Author's Notes/Comments: 

If you have ever lost someone that meant a lot to you, I'm sure you can relate. The plane between this world and the next is ever so slight, delicate, and uncertain. It is good to know that and understand never take for granted anything that means something to you. This is a dedication to a good friend.

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Life's Mosaic

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this in contemplation as to how my life is now compared to "the good ole' days" of my life. We all suffer setbacks, loss, and have to cope with the current condition of our lives.

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