Friday, 27 February 2015

The Source of my content and Tattoo Inspiration

If you place a thing into the centre of your life 
That lacks the power to nourish
It will eventually poison everything that you are 
And destroy you

As simple a thing as an idea
Or your perspective on yourself, of the world
No one can be the source of your content, 
It lies within, at the centre.


Faithless: Liontamer - 2001 

Friday, 13 February 2015

Ideal of Companionship

It is hard to let go of your ideal of companionship.
Yet it is literally insulting to think anyone could fully understand your personal interpretation of your own ideal.
Lou Hyland - 13.02.15

Friday, 6 February 2015

Happiest

I feel happiest when  I am not taking life so seriously

-Lou Hyland 06.02.15

Wednesday, 4 February 2015

Karma retribution for harm.

I look back now at what has been before. My history, my life. I find it has been full of traits.

Loyalty. Strength. Defiance. Independence. Compassion. Passion. Defiance. 
Addictive. Lost. Insecure. Vulnerable. Determination. Many traits and let’s not forget traitors.


Those who know the truth but choose to ignore it. 
They don’t necessarily betray you directly, but their existence is about betrayal, deceit, traitors to the mask they wear. Traitors to the earth and its honest thrum. They reach out their pain and discomfort on their nearest and dearest. They do not look back and reflect on the easy path they took, to expel their angers, making your friendship nothing but strangers. 
Those who worm their way into your heart or soul by sharing your song. Then warp those very same sounds into something truly wrong. 
They live in ivory towers, rain down destructive behaviours and touch those they meet with their damaged relations.

These people are not wise. They are, quite simply, choosing a demise. They make the choice, to ignore the good in themselves and testify to self despise.

They may have suffered trauma. We all do. In some shape or form. All individualised. None of it about comparison. All of it unique. What makes the difference between the traitors and the rest of us, is what we do to overcome our traumas. What makes the difference is accepting what is right, not who.

Who braves their soul and seeks help?
Who hides from their soul and seeks oblivion?

They make the choice, to ignore their conscience and continue to expel blame.
Then they wonder why nothing good ever becomes of them, their experiences remain the same.

We are all mirrors. That which we imagine, feel or give out, we get back. 
Karma retribution for harm. Every action has a reaction. Including inaction.
My life has been full of reactions. Now I am left leading the more thoughtful action.


Change.
I see the way forward.
Embrace yourself, embrace your soul, learn your hardships and change the pattern of destruction.

Become one with yourself. Love yourself before you inflict yourself on anyone else.
Be alone. Be one. Come undone.

Change. Grow. Evolve.
Start again. Be honest. Find truth.

The final trait will see you home, you will never be alone.

When you have honesty.

Tuesday, 3 February 2015

Life

We are all so fucking unique,
everyone of us alone.


 - Lou Hyland. 01.01.15

Depression is...

DEPRESSION IS RAGE TURNED INWARDS

Monday, 2 February 2015

Rhymes spin in my mind

The weird and wonderful words that spilled from my mind, the night I saw Robyn Stapleton perform sensual traditional Burns songs and then Hector Biserk rap his socially conscious poetry. Brrraaaaap!

Was a night to bring shock, to my heart mind and soul
For the rhymes that were told from the new from the old
First sound on my ears, generations old, singing songs of love, historic Burns stories told
This bonnie braw lass and her velvet tongue with soulful voice like no Rabbie before sung,
Notes so high make me silently weep, the trills of a sonnet, real moments to keep
Take my heart back in history away it did flew, upon diddley dee wonderous taps away shoe
Never knew Scotland could sound so gold, ignited joyful belonging in my snow splattered soul
Her beauty and Burns lament taken in stride as she lilted and lullaby my ears glow with pride.

Then to the Spiegle I skip, to the home of the weird
The wild the wonderful colourful peer, where atmospheres take us to the kingdom you choose
So long as you bow to her honor in your dancing shoes
The dancing en masse, the tribes of the hour, Hector Biserk and their lyrical shower
He raps and he rants to an entrancing sound, the bass, drums and percussion they pound and they pound
Not sound for the polite, the meek or the tired, get your ears tuned to ferocious political sound
They blag and they shout of the dangers we know true, and push us to shout ‘fuck the system too!’

Ye cannae walk far in anybodies new shoes, or keep on hearing Christopher Columbus blues,
Yet whats with the suits in the front row standing? Filming for tomorrow, behind feet barely landing
Bodies in air, arms and minds flung round the room, no time for recording, today gone too soon
Be in the moment you mobile video freaks, listen to the lyrics, mock your desperation to repeat

The crowd look right into the storm of the bands eye, see determination to make a difference tonight
Take a moment to point out the poison within, question the societal structures we live pinned within
And all in the nature of dance, rhythm and rhyme, all for the point of having a good time.
Hail to the Speigle for we blew the proverbial house down, and walked away, our wolves clothing thrown down. Our minds a bit brighter, united and strong

Brought together by honest shouting about society gone wrong.