WORK from April to June 2012 ... the "OCCUPY YOUR MEMORY" SHORT STORIES and POEMS
jumpstarted at the DEER PARK INSTITUTE - BIR HP INDIA April2012

"Poems from Restless Hearts" is poetry and fiction
written by Peter Gillies and associated creative folks since 1997 including ...


Extensive co-authoring by and RAW material from Margaret Barker
Memory occupation from Janet Thomas, poetic justice from Naya Kee and rhythmic therapy from Christine Zeindler
Inspirational contributions from Nancy Barker, Phil Barker, Isabella Mori, Jody Nassr, Gisèle Gilfillan, Wahl and ?

"That's how you'll live"
spring '00

Inspiration: my aunt survives, my lover's wise, my daughter thrives

Its hard beneath the memories sky (17/05/00)
years ago my cousin Marilyn and I connected at my sister’s wedding, and I ended up with a large collection of family photos. Recently my father’s only sibling - aunt Elsie - had a serious stroke. The phone rings and family talks.

They say you are dying.
Talking about fond memories.
Pulling out the pictures
When once you were young.

?Will there be holes to fill –
Or ?does the grass just grow over
And the shrubs flesh out -
Beneath the memory’s sky.

Its hard to say goodbye.

My present life seems meaningless to you.
But you tied up some ends last time
With tales of my 3 year old goldie locked dad.

That’s how you’ll live

Caught with oxygen (25/07/00)
Sister Linda again keeps me close with family tales

This time its living
You’re reporting on.
Dad’s sister looking way back –
“I can’t believe they put those
ribbons in my hair. Heh –
I can’t believe
they called me Elsie.”

She had your eye
And ear –
“I’m sitting as still as I can” –
and daughter Marilyn’s familiar jabs.

A Stratford weekend.
You felt the importance
of leaving Ernest early.
?Was it like 25 years ago
when sandra and i and uncle jack
watched paul henderson
puck the Russians.

But there I go again.

“hello I’m back
It’s Elsie” she petitions
The nursing home staff
With a laugh
As you drop her off
And say goodbye

?Whose coming next -
“It’ll be Susan – she has no money”
and hence requires no time to make it.
Well - I want to see you too
To talk again of things you knew

And didn’t.
Like the one catch in the invitation
To share nice nursing home digs
With an old friend -
“She came with oxygen.”

Challenging the assumptions (16/05/00)
Written in the time of Cognitive Therapy. To be told as a story – a little urgency creeping in until just before the end

Last night Alexa gave me a vegetable peeler -
A quick gift while dropping her at mom’s
And when I left up came the big wave of fears.
I can hardly name them.

“But try”

“I don’t give her enough (love)”.
“I won’t be giving her anything if I move away.”
See how big it gets.

You should feel the heartbeat.

I’m learning to question those voices.
Not shut them out
Hear the message.
Not my innuendo.

I’m starting to explore their foundation

“what is enough?”
“She may be getting what she wants”
“I really enjoy finding the connection –
Tonight’s taekwando lessons
Got me spinning and kicking”

“I may move away for a while”

“I won’t lose touch.”
“I’ll be giving, and receiving”
“I’ll be creating new contexts for her”

(Deep breath. Hold it. Slowly …)
It’s a truer pulse now.

I’m able to feel and reason
To peel the vegetables in season.

In my 20’s (07/05/00)
On the advice of my doctor I bought "Feeling Good - the new mood therapy" and with the help of the Burns Depression Checklist was quickly able to put myself pretty accurately between 0 (no problem) and 100 (extremely depressed).

22 pushing 25
which is the line
between mild and
moderate depression.

“Pretty intense suffering”
defines the latter
which is what I felt
so don’t mince words.

“thoughts of suicide” but
no plans to harm myself nor
desire to end it all
is commonly observed.

I’m on my way to
“Feeling Good”
Looking for a 10 -
Or under.

Not the way we are now (29/04/00)

The map of a thriving Equilibrio
Looks very foreign
Discipline, deadlines,
Urgencies loom.

The road is long and winding
And not for us the way
We are now.

?Can we go there

Let’s devise a fair test
That won’t kill or break us.

We’ll know we’ve arrived
When our ideas excite
And enough dollars flow -
Some to feed us
Some for place we don’t yet know

Prone to quiet fears (29/04/00)

Not trusting us
Is you and me.
And also
Each alone.

We bring our fears
To quiet feed
And marvel
How they’ve grown

Without a chance
to own the faults
To which we
might be prone

Hypothetically no fences (08/05/00)

Tonite I want to fill
Your eager to please mouth

That tongue which
Loves to tease
With hypothesis’
and references.

Those lips that toss
Seductive airs
With questionnaires
And inferences

That throat that drinks
My creation
With elation
and suspenses.

That smile which
Holds my rapture.
Like a pasture
With no fences.

Patient Tongue (09/05/00)

I like to wait.
And talk about it
In anticipation.

I savour speculation
Along the lonesome lines
Of your lithe back.

I want to wonder
Around those not quite
Bottecelli hips.

To inquire tonguing
Between ripe buttocks

Your tight bud is eager
To be talked open.

But I like to wait.

Taste some (11/05/00)

I own your pussy
When I lift the short skirt
To admire your tight belly
And slick mound.

Turn slowly
Legs slightly spread
Tight thighs kissing
Your savoury bush.

Spread a little more
Eager clit offering
To my firm hand.

Lip teasing
Getting you hot
And wanting to taste some.
Slurp at my
Wet cunt fingers.

Come to me -
I cannot worship your hole
From afar.

Space to put them on (18/05/00)

You need more space.
You need more time
To lie naked before me.

Tense ready waiting
On hands to
Draw out the lion -
To tame the edge.

But not release it -
Pose it a as a question
You are eager to explore

A soft instruction - “I
Like the skimpy blue frills” -
So put them on.

Give yourself some space …
And time before
You lie naked before me.

Talk of something softer (22/05/00)

Let the images come.

In her soon to be purchased collar –
Fucking her hot eager mouth –
One of those sexy nities pulled up over her hips –
My cock enjoying her tight little hole.

Lust
Power
My pleasure

Our phone sex yesterday gave
something softer –
To take the blood urgency our of my dick
And brain.

Gentle kisses.
Slow caress.
Back off – enjoy the lines. The muscles.
The quiet beauty. The peace.

Resist the urge to put my tongue in.

Struggle.

Seen counting beans (16/05/00)
Larry and I had coffee last week. Slouched in my favourite Turk’s couch I remarked on the painting on the opposite wall – “that’s Ralph, in 20 years.” Today I notice a painting of Ralph, the one I know, counting beads. And then I saw Ralph.

Ralph counting beads
Painted on a square foot
Rests atop my Turk’s table
A thoughtful moment captured by
“james”

Interpreted for the world
Of surprised friends.
Maybe a curious stranger
Will share the karma.

Fast Confession (18/05/00)

I cannot refuse to use –
To treat myself to a few
More hours to cruise
My brain – align it
With the slinking in
Porn/chat/tell
Buy/sell
Of 13.4M Canadians
Online

Or just be
Alone in song
Or spoken mind
Or splattered down
For others to find
And Szing along.

Model without (22/05/00)

?Can I do without
And enjoy it

Perhaps I’ll be the bottom for a while
Focus on her pleasure
Give not get.
Hard to stay cool at that.

Or how about the ascetic –
A sensory examination of depravation.
That gets close to it –
my mind is constantly reflecting
on “not having it”.

I could try the inspired
Artist, businessperson, parent –
Fill to the brim with responsibilities, lists, goals.
Discipline seem to be lacking.

Or how about the eunuch –
Find some way to turn it off.
Extend the functionality
Of the shut off valve vasectomy.

Left on the hill (meg barker 22/05/00)

there once was a man who left
his home with a bit of regret
but when he came back
he'd left such a track
'twas a hill that was there, not a cleft

Many sox (28/05/00)

I don’t know how many
Pairs of Fred’s sox
I’ve got.

But each one talks
When I put it on
My feet. Inside my shoes.

Or I could choose
To shuffle shoeless
Around the room.

No matter which
I won’t be clueless
The travelled sox
Will thread the stitch.

My General’s generalities (29/05/00 meg barker)

There is very little general about my General
in my object and subject opinion.
May i humbly submit that
white he may be,
but shaded subtly in rosy tones
behind the ears,
between the thighs,
betwixt the lips.
Male may he be indeed,
rich grey-black curls adorn
that lively head,
the prowling cock,
those glowing nipples
on a plane of restless skin.
Flaming red, I tell you, those orbs of life
Which swell taut and sweet with kiss, with tongue.

Typical? you say, of a man who does not grab
all that he can and run with it. Predictable – not quite for
this one who knows the game but has no heart for it,
one who croons to the muse for comfort
for the feel of salty tears
the touch of grace only faintly beyond finger’s reach, behind the mind and heart
a divinity sensed but not yet grasped
too good, too dear, too grand --

for bucks, for busting ass, for breaking
a fellow man, a friend
a neighbour, that wretched girl in the street.

Give me an old white male and i’ll show you my general in shades of rose, red, blue, black and yes, white, too. Struggles of the soul are never easy and never ending and so too the bounty, brevity and brutality of life.

Homeless in my dreams (06/05/00)

Moving out
Or moving in
The fog of dreams
Sifts homeless themes
And then awake
To face my doubt

The monthly toll –
Well – maybe less –
Of packing clothes
Or stacking rows
Before the dawn
Returns my soul

“try to fly”
I’ve heard it said
It can’t hurt more
To hit the floor
With no one there
To hear the cry.

Copyright Notice © 2000 Peter Gillies and Margaret Barker