Just chill.


Smile, be yourself,
It is the only person
You’re equipped to be.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Project Semicolon – Project Semicolon | projectsemicolon.com

I stumble across a post about this project to help those struggling with depression, addiction and self-injury.
The tag line on their website is “A semicolon is used when an author could have chosen to end a sentence but chose not to. The author is you, the sentence is your life.”
I thought it was well worth sharing.



The broken skylight
Distorts the view of fractures
Inside the raindrops,

A momentary rainbow
Disappears between the cracks.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Practical strategies for the modern alchemist

Alchemy 2

The image of alchemy as a metaphor for the path to enlightenment and fulfilment is now firmly fixed in my mind. Shame it isn’t an original idea (there being a kind of famous book with the title “The Alchemist”) but a path isn’t any less of a path just because someone else has walked it before and anyway the image fits.
I am taking my life and reshaping it into something new, by taking a risk and trusting my talents. That is talent with a small “t” by the way but commitment and consistency with capital C’s, in big bold print.
Then there is one more “C word” to add to the list, control. I am taking control. Not necessarily of the success or failure of the alchemy, but by providing the best raw materials, which is a me that believes in himself and is willing to undertake the vital task of stirring the pot and keeping the potion on the boil.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Clean undies

I’ll be the hero and get the girl.
I’ll be Superman without the cape.
I’ll be a rock star without the habit.
If this comes off, Oh man
I’ll be Hendrix, the Beatles and the Stones.
I’ll reform the band!
I’ll be Branson without the beard.
I’ll be Elvis before the Vegas years.
It’ll be like that fabled pot of gold
Falling from the sky
And landing on my head.
It’ll be like all the dreams
I have ever wished for coming true.
If I could only have my cake and eat it
I would be away
Showing just a clean pair of heels.

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

White Water

Wonderful use of rhythm drags you in

Random Acts...

Awake and dreaming

inside bended shadows

and used half cigarettes.

I’m sullied and worn

wounded through verse

and battered broken verbs.

I hear the soft swaying tint

of whispered vibrations

across an alright riddle

of a curving culling river

where we meet drenched

within the shallow hole

of our fractured nature.

Show me the watered pain

of bruised, tired depths

and I’ll let you embrace

the tender tide of years.

Give me your dismayed history

and I’ll stream our sonnet

punctuated by blushing blood

and flooding the entanglement

…of our former selves.

A course of rippling routes

swayed by a persuasive compass

guiding us toward the softness

of forgetting and remembering

who we can be with the truth

…of our humbled hands.

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Are you going to
Tear me apart, eat me up,
Strip flesh from my bones.

You’re in me. Will you destroy
Or just dare me to love you?

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.