Letter #30 from UPIII



Recieved 15th August 2018

JVA Köln, 5th August 2018

Hey, hi, hello to all of you, my dear comrades and friends,

it appears I lied when I said I’m not sending any post for a while, because this is post, and I have sent it.

(I’m not sure I can call three days “a while” but anyway.)

Today I have a poem for you.

I’m really intrigued by stars, planets and the universe and I find it quite upsetting I can only sometimes see the moon here.

Still I can look at it when it isn’t behind a cloud and wonder if any of you are looking at it too.

It’s comforting that no matter where you are, the moon doesn’t really change, it’s still as bright and beautiful as ever.

And while I can’t sit by a fire, half asleep, maybe a bottle in hand, for the next few months with someone and talk about everything in our minds and hearts as we look up at a dark sky (hopefully) full of stars, I’m content, for now, remembering how it feels. 

The crackle and pop of the flames as they burn through the logs, the scent of the night air, fresh and earthy, though my absolute favourite just after rain.

A chilly breeze that makes me want to huddle closer to the fire or into the person next to or people around me. Good times.

I’m not sure I can call that a “little thing”, but I miss it more than anything else. The comfort of other people, the buzz that only comes from late night conversations, it’s making my heart ache.

One hundred and thirty five days to go. 

One day at a time.


That day in December may just be the best day of my life.

I love you all, and I miss you terribly.


Sunday 5th August 2018

I think there’s a power inside people
in the very depths of our hearts
which we may choose not to acknowledge
because it completely terrifies us

That each of us is unimaginably strong
force of a hurricane, an exploding star
maybe that is the reason the reckless die young
they tapped into their soul
and didn’t let go until their bodies burnt out

Maybe, too, that is why we grow old
bodies are not built
to contain, like a jar,
the remains of a long dead universe
remnants of supernova stars

I wonder if this soul touching
feels like putting a foot in quicksand
a hand in a whirlpool
dog leash on a frenzied shark
once it is done
can you go back?
Or does the acknowledgement
flood through the mind
ignite your veins
does it give you the warm glow
of the star that died for your birth?

People say power is corruption
and perhaps it is
think of the judge who sentenced me
too much given to
a human who didn’t deserve or can rightfully use it

But that is a different power
one of false justice
where the power of souls
is pure, born from burning light
does that make it okay to use though
does that make it right?
Sometimes I wonder
does it feel like a drug or drunken high
allowing yourself to drink in those stars
hold the very fabric of the universe
in a pair of shaking hands
planets whirring in the mind
eyes staring blankly for a moment
as all the doors fling open behind

Maybe magic is real
we’ve just forgotten how to use it
hooked instead on the feeling of the big Pharma pill

Go to school so you can get a job
give it your best years
actually, in the end, all of them
to a career that may go obsolete
so you can lie on your deathbed
feeling like you fit in

I’m not romanticising mental disorders
but I want to twist them a different way
maybe they’re easier to deal with
if people weren’t so afraid
because how absolutely horrifying it is
to not be able to escape
the chemical nutjob controlling your brain
a bit of this, too much of that
who put them in charge anyway?

If brains were gardens
depression got the spot at the bottom
boggy, damp, root rotting
only a drizzle of sunlight every so often
maybe someone should give you, our light starved comrades,
plants that revel in the soggy darkness
instead of asking, or grumbling
about how your sunflowers
unlike everyone else’s
simply won’t grow
To our schizophrenic friends
perhaps the patch you were dealt
has the opposite problem, there’s too much light
so each seed from neighbours
every weed nearby
ventures into your plot
and they wrap their many roots
through all the corners of your mind
clouding those you carefully earthed
so which roots, which thoughts, are yours
and which are sapping your energy this time?

To the PD’s, our personality fellows,
maybe yours are in the ideal but just over the fence
should you plant potatoes?
They make a good stew
but next door is planting strawberries
which look like they’d taste great too
then your friend is digging in tulips
showing hundreds of colours, they say, when they bloom
oh no, oh no, oh no
there’s not enough room to plant all of them
but do you try anyway or attempt to choose?

Though we know you don’t really
have a say either way
but whatever grows
know will love you okay?

To the ED’s, out gravity number lovelies
I guess yours is just outside the “ideal” spot
maybe, you feel, even a little too fertile
comparing your seedlings to the others
yours seem to be a bit bigger, you may think bitterly
so you thin them out
but it only helps you watch those left to grow
with a more critical eye
leaving you wondering why
you got stuck with this particular spot
and seed handed down through your family
“if only”, you may say, “I could grow orange carrots”
as all yours sprout up in a purple disarray
please breathe easy though, and hear us when we proclaim
despite those glossy pages full of orange roots
we would rather have you as you are
even on your worst body image days.
To the traumas with their mind’s finger on the trigger
whatever took the rich gentle earth from you plot
disease, weeds, fire, pests, or something
seems to have left you with only dusty sand
I wish I could do more than just say I’m deeply sorry
give some comfort and tell they felt the suffering too
but they’re probably sitting in the sun and don’t remember you
there’s an uphill battle to rebuild you soil
fill it back up with love, kindness, and all things good
encourage the water and microbiology to stay
while building a defense against those who hurt and prey
try and stop them taking advantage of you pain
thankfully though there’s help not far away
we’ll be your companion plants, your trees to shade
shield you from the world, provide a sage space
and welcome you there whenever you want a break
building up again isn’t easy
but we’ll have your back
every step of the way

Hello there to our quiet anxiety pals
who worry about their little plot being so close to the centre
because there’s so much bustle and movement
that it’s making their seedlings vibrate
but they may not be able to find their voice and say “please, not so close, its making me shake”
so many plots and people and expectations and faster growth rates
why can’t the plants in this space keep up? Why aren’t they the same?
don’t despair though dear friends
we’ll be the stakes to hold you steady
and the megaphone for you voice if you’d like us to be
even if you’re as quiet as the winter trees
your opinion matters just as much as those whose sound
carries like a roaring tsunami wave

I’m sure I have not spoken of many
for which I am very sorry
I do not wish to speak of plots that I have not met or seen
and because each head space is different and unique
the ones I have written you may not feel
apply to the situation anyway

So back to power, talk of magic and spirit
to anarchy and spiking energy
rising voices against injustice all over the world
the renewed vibrations of an ancient universe
trying to reclaim itself
an electric charge in the depths of our veins
rebirth of the stardust hiding in our brains
why be worried of a bit of fire and flame
when it’s what created us in the first place?

So we walk into depths of hell eyes ablaze
with burning passion, determination to fight even if we’re afraid
it’s no wonder I’m still here
that’s enough to make even the devil shake

My dear friends and comrades
though it may seem hopeless some days
we have the power to make a change
it is in our hearts, our heads, running through our veins
we were not born to work until we die
but instead to stand for what is right
none are free until all of us are unlocked from the chains,
the last ditch attempt to slow the start of a new world
from a terrified capitalist state

So find your stardust, because it is never too late
to wake the universe living inside you 
that is now just lying in wait
supernova stars never really disappeared or went away
they only changed form, were given bodies and names

so with all the best wishes

keep fighting and stay BRAVE


Schreibe einen Kommentar

Deine E-Mail-Adresse wird nicht veröffentlicht. Erforderliche Felder sind mit * markiert.