Word-workers, a poet by dear Kaet poetess

met Kaet 3 weeks before i left Mcleod Ganj.... very beautiful soul, and a fine 'word-worker', who sings well and plays a number of instuments (guitar, flute.....) just enjoy how she describes herself and the rest of us.... Actually before reading/typing this now, i thought it was about her, but now i see that it is about me too, and you toooooooo........ i wish she could visit Meherabad, AND Iran, (when freed!) to spread her message of sharing and understanding.... (few words where not clear for me which i will ask her clarification later ) enjoy the vibe and see how we can apply the principle in our everyday communications!

Word-workers

What do you know about?
What are your stories?
Can you scream aloud your words in joy,
To stop the world from flaking?

There’s just one thing we’ll ever know
And that’s what we’ve experienced;
Of all the places, times and faces
We have felt and visited.

We all have words we use,
To point our random telling;
We all have tales stored in our beings,
To bring us from our dwellings.

The greatest thing you could ever do:
Is throw your puzzle to the wind;
Share a piece of the maze that make you
Share it with an absent friend.

Shed in half your chatter box
Of a life, bit by bit;
On your table, where there’s room
For all of us to sit.

I will come to hear you talk
To see the glisten in your eyes
Tell me words of freedom
I’ll even listen to your lies

I don’t have to know you
Or like what you’ve to say
But I’ll see the passionising
That’s seeping through your days

You see, we all have a tale to tell
You’re the master of your moments
But buried treasure can’t be found
If we don’t become Caribbean pirates.

“Ah Haar” we must say
as we draw our rusty sword
pint it to the brooding one
Challenge the shy lord.

With questions of their life
And queries fro their being
With an interest in your eyes
That will surely draw them in

Soon we will have them waling
All about their inner wisdom flooding
Into your little stream

See all of us will find our voice
Before those who ‘want’ to hear
The whisperings of our colours
That paints the backdrop to our tears

For all of us possess a spark
That words can illuminate
Of all those times in your own divine
That took an instant to create…

… a moment, a vision, a smile, a stroll
A peace of chaos, a heavenly scroll,
A look suspended on a child’s lashes
A traveled road covered in ashes
Encounters with random taxi car drivers
A kiss of a mother, a stroke of a feather
The wind at your window
The smell of summer rain
Or that time when Aunt Betsy flew in from Bahrain
The smell of the airport in the transit lounge waiting
For a flight to take you away from the shaking, the quivering, grasp of a lover
In the sweat of sweet love from which you took shelter
Or that time you farted between hymns in a chapel!
Or saw the other half of a wiggling worm in your bitten apple!

So the next time you’re sitting with an absolute stranger
Know there’s one way
To escape the silent danger
You could ask “how are you?” or, “what is it you do?”
Or you could be a bit more interesting
And go straight to step two!

Cut the crap and ask a question
I’m sure they’re not expecting
And before they think you’re weird
Quickly ask another question

And if you ask with a generous
Amount of genuinity
It won’t take much for them to open
Their soul for you to see

And Oh, what a pleasure
I guarantee you it will be
For the greatest gift one could ever give
Is to show to you their ‘me’

And what is more beautiful
Than the eyes of a story-teller
For they dance a dance of mystery
Of which you can’t decipher

Now don’t be fooled!
At first their stories may be mundane
Just continue to enquire as if you didn’t,
You’d go insane.

Pretend every person
Is a secret Steven Spielberg
Izabelle Alande, or Arundhati Roy

And then the world may be
Entertained by each other
Instead of television
Play station or computers

For behind every quiet person
Is a face you cannot miss
And if you become a word-worker
You can inspire pure bliss

Find their freedom
Inspire their smile
Get them to talk
About what they find worthwhile

And then you’ll never be faced
With a social dilemma
Cause what is more colourful
Than a word-smiting stranger?

By now, you may have realized
That to be a word-worker
You can’t be on an ego-trip
To their words you must surrender

So if it is your stories
That you find all important
And the only reason you’re inquiring
Is to feed your own Endorphins!
Then know the worst thing you can do
Is to hear but not to listen
Especially when you’ve invoked the key
To spill forward another’s mission

So please be careful word-workers, out there!
If you choose to go in blind,
Not only will you miss their beauty
You’ll insult their peace of mind

Lift them, create them
Be inspired to paint them
Nurture them, embrace them
Give them permission to be ‘them’

But I know what you may be thinking
Word-working is a gamble
What if I inspire in them
Stories that lead to shambles?!

Like: “Uncle Norm ran over the cat.”
And, “Shirley lost her keys.”
“My dog died last year.”
And, “my wife cooks mushy peas.”
“I’m a single mum with a daughter.”
“I have a rare disorder.”
“I bought three pair of socks last week.”
“Ahh, excuse me, while I just go take a leak!”

well, let it be known for I guess it is true:
some of us don’t own a passion
it’s been buried too deep for any to see
Below the Arctic Ocean

I don’t recommend you go diving too deep
For who knows what you may stumble on?b
But use your God-given intuition
And know what point to move on

But if you sense the coming presence
Of a passionate dreamy tale
Seek to summon out their best
In the secrets they want to tell

Become skilled in the art
Of plucking vibrant strings
Get them to play their instruments
Try to spread their wings

Query their dreams of childhood
Or a song they used to sing
Ask about their holidays
Don’t let them give in

To the mundaneness of their surface
In which they’re used to living
For many people live
In shallow spaces of no-giving
For they’re not used to anyone
Interested in receiving

Pretend their suffering
Is the surface of their ocean
And beneath the cracking waves of drama
Is a bliss that guides their motion
Be reminded not to go too deep
Else you both may drown
Just find their swell of beauty
And they will guide the sound

Around their broken coral reefs
And through their dying shores
To islands where they dare to dream
In a land of their own cause

Take theme there to leave them
At home in their mist
Take them there to see them
Stranded in their bliss

Inspire words of the extraordinary
Cling to positivity
Then the world around you
Will become your endless journey
Be proven: all are precious
All have magic in their pond
If you want to see under lock and key
Tap them with your wand

And son we’ll have the whole world talking
All about their inner ‘me’

For once one shows an interest
Soon it will be there
And four and a thousand more
The next world-wide inquisition
Into the very souls of others
We’ll be spreading inspiration

High esteem will be the side effect
A plague of self-worth
For what is more empowering
Than one to show interest in your birth?

Your reason d’etre, your being
Your doing and your needing
Your tales are purely sacred
For no one sees what you are seeing

Soon we will have the doctors
The psychics and paramedics
Trying to find a cure
For this “meaningful communication epidemic”

People start to wonder
Where did all the small talks go?
Well, I guess it will still be there
For those who sign off on their true mojo

Then, someday you’ll find yourself
Wallowing in solitude
And a stranger will come to greet you
And ask about your mood
Then about your freedom
And all about your glory
And then you’ll find that all at once
You’re inspired by your own story.

By: Kaet Brewer (poetess), Austalia