For the past two months, I have been working hard on a theatre show. I haven’t talked about it openly on here, but now that it’s over, and before we wrap up human seasons and move into something different, I would love to talk about it.

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In New Zealand, I run a poetry community called Yellow Lamp, and even though we’ve been selling out small venues for 18 months, a jump to a theatre felt crazy. I decided to leap over my doubts, and the results have been astounding. We now officially have a sold-out season under our belts. Off the back end, a lot of people have been asking how I feel. People have been questioning what’s next, and the answer is likely not what you are expecting. We ran all of our shows from a small place called Movespace, which is a vital part of my growth. It was the first place in New Zealand that homed me. I felt like an outsider for a long while, and Movespace took me in and made me believe in my creativity in a way I never had before. After being a part of that community for a little while, I asked Kiran (the owner) if we should start a poetry show, and he immediately said yes. It was designed as a one-off show, but somehow here we are two years later still doing monthly shows and growing endlessly.

Due to this growth, however, we can no longer fit into Movespace, but this was not a good enough reason for me to leave it as our regular space. I got married in that very venue. That is how much it means to me. The shift for me came after a show, when someone immediately told me they didn’t like poetry, but it was their fourth time at the show. I talked to them about this, and they explained that it didn’t matter what was on the stage, that Yellow Lamp exists in an atmosphere they’ve always dreamed of being in.

Community is in such demand. The need for a place to call home and feel held is at an all-time high. The shift for Yellow Lamp going forward is to focus on hanging out and being a community that interacts with each other. The vitality of art is as strong as ever, and we cannot abandon what we have built, but we can extend it to create environments that encourage everybody to be closer.

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The Basement Theatre shows happened because I asked. Yellow Lamp exists because I asked. We get so many opportunities from the simple action of asking and being brave enough to put ourselves out there. I have made so many meaningful connections simply by enquiring about the well-being of people from a genuine place. There is a saying I heard a lot growing up in the UK, and being mixed in with so many cultures. Shy bairns get nowt. It essentially means that if you don’t ask then you don’t receive. If you require something in your life, then all you have to do is find the right person to ask.

I know a lot of you are from across the ocean and cannot attend these events, but if you have the means, then I urge you to get communal. If you cannot find a place that supports you, then create it. I can promise you that you are not alone in your desires. You are not the only one in need of a specific thing. As Yellow Lamp moves forward, we are hosting board game nights, make your own dumpling nights, poetry dnd, movie nights and a bunch of other evenings dedicated to being hands-on and close. We are adding an open mic to every event and finding ways to incorporate art into places where art usually doesn’t exist. We are holding workshops and daring people to be creative.

If I want you to take one thing from this, it is that there is space for you in this world. There are people who hum the same melodies, who feel equally hopeless finding their people, but they are out there. I know it can be scary to go to new places and meet new people. I know failure is a real feeling, and creating a space and it not working out is disheartening, but we need to get back out into the world. We need people who dare to try to build spaces with community as the foundation. This is not my first effort, and I am grateful I have finally made something that people are responding to, but it took a great deal of work. If you see a community event that interests you, then please attend it. Being around people with the same passions is a therapy. Daring to explore another person’s passions is a therapy. Online spaces can be great, and I am proud of what Woofenberry is here, but we need that connection with the real world, too.

I am planning on some more Zoom workshops soon, so we can at least have a real-time connection. If you feel lost or have a desire for something, then remember, all you have to do is ask. Shy bairns get nowt.

Until next time, Woofenberry’s

Keep kind and stay true x

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I do not know if it is the age or the uphill, but I long so much for quiet. I am noticing more noise these days. I sleep lighter than I ever have. I am pulled from a dream by a bang a few doors down, or the snoring of the old pipes. I am affected by the sounds around me. They determine my focus and abilities, and even have the power to make me entirely incapable. Most interestingly, we all have our own perspective on sound. Perspective is what keeps the world interesting. It’s why art is so vast and why there are so many genres inside genres. It’s why we have to add separation to everything. The way we see the world is ours and ours alone. We share parts, but the whole picture belongs to us. What we classify as a hell, is a heaven to somebody. One person’s silence is another person’s screaming. I have met those who find calm in electronic music and even death metal, but these are too chaotic for my brain.

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These days, my friendships are determined by sound because people are noises, too. Some are silent, some hum like fridges and others are cacophony I cannot interpret. As human beings, we have a false belief that we have to get along with everybody. The fact is that we need to approach people with respect and kindness, but it’s okay if the distance between your songs is too far. People try too hard to squeeze their melodies into music that was never designed to hold them. You do not have to withstand any sound that is too loud for you. Some find the gentleness jarring and require a little more upbeat. The only thing we truly share is our longing for silence, but silence is never silent. It is a catered noise. We are songs, and with the assistance of everybody we love, we make an album.

Every song on your soundtrack should make you feel happy. It shouldn’t feel off-key or out of sync; instead, it should make you want to dance. How you define dancing is a personal choice, too. Not all movement is fanfare. For instance, both listening and laughter are dances. Being patient and letting your friends spill their records is an intimacy like no other, and intimacy is a dance. Whatever sounds make your body feel most at home, chase them. Learn how your friends sing with their bodies and listen to the intricacies of their instruments. You learn that people have sounds within their silences that tell you how they feel. There are plenty who are trying to fight against their natural rhythm, like adding an electric guitar to classical music. Our sounds change, too. Sometimes minutely and other times in major ways. We can drift away from people based on their newest discovery of sound. We are all evolving in slow motion, and evolution is wildly unpredictable. I have lost friends based on our sonic evolution. Some were lost because I got tired of pretending I was the genre I was never meant to be.

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Trauma is a sound that healing alters. We find connection in where we ache, and when that aching stops, we learn that we are two songs too far apart. Getting better has a consequence, like everything else. When we move forward, it is sadly inevitable that we will leave something behind. My healing and my settling into the soil of this earth, has led me to a gentle sound. I don’t find many who etch the same grooves into these days anymore. For a long while, I mistook this for loneliness instead of being grateful for the friends who always fit on my records. I know it is scary to sing the song your heart belts out in the shower. I know what it is to finally voice the lyrics lodged in your brain out into the great wide open. Freedom is letting yourself sing whatever song you desire. Through all my growth, I am most grateful for all of the quiet I have found. I finally feel like I am singing the songs my heart has been humming all along. Bring this world, all of your songs. I promise somebody is waiting to sing them. Until next time, Woofenberry’s.

Keep kind and stay true.

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They share the same approach of focusing on poignant moments, and they also share a theme. Haiku is about the standard definition of nature, but the American Sentence is grittier and focuses more on urban nature. I think of it as haiku being the countryside and the American Sentence being the city although the American Sentence can fall into both categories. Here are some examples written by Allen Ginsberg: 

Four skinheads stand in the streetlight rain, chatting under an umbrella.

Propelled by my feet, chunks of frozen snow skitter down gritty sidewalks.

That grey-haired man in a business suit and black turtleneck thinks he’s still young.

As you can see from these few examples, there is a lot of humanity in the American Sentence, in a more direct way than in haiku; however, over the last few weeks, we have been discussing the aspects of human seasons and their overlap. If we are to consider a city as nature then would that make humans the animals of that specific habitat? Next time you are outside, look around, not at the trees, but at the people. Pay attention to their doing, and try and contain it in a 17 syllable poem. Then look at the common aspects of city life such as trains and technology. Here are a couple of my own:

The men in suits at the bus stop compare briefcases as if they’re hearts. 

The morning train powers through the rain trying to shake off the droplets.

Give this a try and please share them. Keep Kind & Stay True Woofenberry’s

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To truly understand the concept of the American Sentence listen to Allen Ginsberg below and it gives the exact feeling he was going for when he invented the American Sentence.

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Since I began thinking about this concept, I have undergone many changes in my understanding of additional seasons, yet I have always maintained that grief is a season. We must define grief before we progress. Of course, we are talking about the loss of people we love, but we feel grief in a multitude of places. I would consider heartbreak a grief. Grief isn’t always a death; it is sometimes a drifting. It is the distance we find ourselves from the people we love, and the moment we realise how far apart we’ve grown is a grief. Then there are the smaller sorrows. The McDonald’s special we miss, or the restaurant we love, is shutting down. Grief, in its most simple form, is a loss of joy, no matter how small that joy is. We mourn on a spectrum, and some things require a minute to grieve, and there are things we might never stop grieving.

The counter that I was presented with during a lecture was that sorrow itself is a season. Sadness is a state of unhappiness, whereas sorrow goes beyond. To me, however, sorrow is synonymous with grief. We feel sorrow for another person’s loss and can inherit grief secondhand. Typically, I come into these newsletters with certainty and present what I have learned, but with this topic, I am continually learning and adapting it. It is also entirely personal, so instead of a strict informing, I want to give you the tools to create your own structure. Sure, grief can exist in other seasons, but would you consider this a quick shift season? When I think of growth, Spring remains the season of growth, but that doesn’t mean I don’t grow at other times; it just means that’s where I grow most. Anytime I am experiencing monumental growth, I am affirmed that I am in the human Spring. Some growth we don’t even feel or recognise until we have gone through it.

Again, we are now weeks removed from our last look at this topic. Take a note of how you’d currently define your seasons, but this time only allow yourself two words. These are mine:

Spring - Growth. Admiration.

Summer - Social. Appreciation.

Autumn - Loneliness. Hopelessness.

Winter - Creativity. Comfort

I am hard set on these four now, and my brain goes to these definitions immediately. I am a five-season man contemplating a sixth. How would you define yourself? These are some other seasons that people suggested:

Pregnancy

This one was something I had never considered. It is essentially bundling together the preparation for birth and feeling it to its fullest. It is a heavy season filled with anticipation. I picture this as early Spring.

Desire

If we compare this to a nature season, then it would be high summer. Is there a specific time in your life when you often find yourself desiring more? Where is there more hunger than in other seasons? The person who gave this season to me defined it as passion at its peak. If we follow the ruling of growth at peak for Spring and grief at peak for grief as a season, then desire must surely be one.

Love

If I were to include a fifth season to my human calendar, then it would likely be love. Although I experience it everywhere and in everything, there is definitely a time when I am fully open to falling in love with the world. It is when I most want to explore and connect. I am more observant and patient. I move more slowly through the world, but differently from the slow of winter. There is a vividness to people, places and experiences like no other.

There are endless possibilities, and it is very likely not everybody will agree with your classifications, but it is undeniable that seasons are complicated. If we focus on nature and Japanese culture, they split the year into 72 microseasons. There are 24 major divisions within this system, each split into three, for a total of 72, lasting roughly five days each. The biggest takeaway from this is that all the divisions are named, and although human seasons shift more often and don’t fit into a specific pattern, this shows the extent of the capabilities of mapping seasons. For example, the year begins with the Beginning of Spring, then moves to Rainwater, and then to Insects Awaken. Within the Insects Awaken division, you have hibernating insects surfacing, the first peach blossoms and caterpillars becoming butterflies. Take a look at the dates and the full list of seasons here.

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I have a final part to write on human seasons to summarise why this is such a helpful line of thought. I want to elaborate on the comfort knowing that everything has a season, and when we cannot do something, we don’t suck, we are just in the wrong season, but until then, think of your seasons beyond the standard four. Ask your friends what season they feel they are in, talk with a loved one about this and see where the conversation takes you.

• What do you classify as a fifth season?

• Is there a sixth or even a seventh in your mind?

• What are your thoughts on viewing the world in 72 parts?

• Are you enjoying this discussion?

Talk in the comments below, or I have started a chat thread. Until next time, keep kind and stay true, Woofenberry’s.

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A Short Stay In Hell by Steven L. Peck

A few scenes in this book are quite graphic, but overall, it is a tame read. It might even be a stretch to consider this a horror. The premise is simple. A man dies and is sent to hell, but he isn’t trapped in hell forever; there is a way out. At first glance, it isn’t even that difficult, and he is given a bed and a vendor that can produce any meal he pleases. There is no hellfire or strict torture; it is more mentally taxing. Once the extent of the conditions sets in, it is truly terrifying, and you can imagine the battle you’d have with your sanity. This book comes in at 110 pages, and I wouldn’t recommend looking more into it. It is a great read, and going in blind will benefit it even more. I read this twice in quick succession, and it made me think of different versions of hell that are secretive in their hellishness.

Sour Candy by Kealan Patrick Burke

This book is super weird. It comes in at only 84 pages and features a man who takes candy from a child at a grocery store, which changes his life forever. It is a play on the old warning of not taking candy from strangers. A few parts are stomach-churning, but it is mostly just a small haunting story that will stay with you for a long while. I love the pacing of this book and how it doesn’t waste time getting into it. The kid is creepy, and I would likely kick him over the garden fence if this happened to me. This experience gets a big nope from me, but it makes a great read.

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Last Wednesday, I did a lecture about the human seasons and wanted to bring that discussion here. The concept of human seasons is that everything we feel belongs to an internal season. Some things can leak into all seasons, much like rain does, but there are specific indicators to tell us what season we are currently in. This is a big, complex discussio…

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Limited space within a poem is often seen as merely limiting; however, there are many times when the lack is actually a gift. When it comes to haiku, four poets are often considered the great masters: Matsuo Bashō, Yosa Buson, Kobayashi Issa, and Masaoka Shiki. These poets helped refine and shape the haiku tradition, which is commonly structured in a 5-…

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Today, we are going to look at idioms, which add fun and intrigue to your writing. The ancient Greek word “idioma” means “peculiar phraseology, which sums up idioms well. They are commonly used expressions with a figurative meaning rather than a literal one. There are subsections of idioms, but for now, we will look at the picture as a whole.

Did you fix…

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I am fascinated by progress and how the world reshapes itself into the form of its current era. I am noticing such an increase in the unpracticed. People are taking on art and executing it without relevant experience or qualifications. Of course, art can be self-taught, but there seems to be less desire for the learning and a more immediate want to be s…

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Poem

I’m at the age where I kind of understand golf

but I’m young enough to still hate it.

When I hear the word party now

I assume nobody is dancing

other than the laughter

and the eagerness to leave.

My bedtime took up skydiving.

I’ve started looking at midnight

the way one might see a ghost.

My knees creak like a haunted house.

All of my dreams have mildew.

Peopl…

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The Cowbody Sextape sessions was a recording period where I wrote and recorded a bunch of poems for a Western Poetry book called ‘Cowboy Sextape’. Here is a little sample.

Keep Kind & Stay True x

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Fitting that I recorded this when it was raining. I thought I would read a poem to you, as I definitely don’t do it enough. Another frequent thing to add to 2026? I think so. Here is the transcript:

I Miss Cheeseburgers

and cold pizza in the morning.

I miss the way rain feels on my skin

and being drenched to the bone.

I miss bones

and the way

I’d crack my knuckles

when it was time to get to work.

I don’t miss work.

If I could haunt my boss,

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I began doing the challenges last year, and I adore the concept I created; however, digital badges, however hard I attempted to make them look good, fell off. It didn’t capture the vision I had, and it didn’t feel like an actual reward. This is why I am going to be doing the complete vision, which is physical badges. I will send mail every April, August…

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Granted, this prompt is a strange one. Please take an animal call and translate it, whether it is the neighbour's dog barking, the birds singing in the morning, or the crickets chirping in the distance. What are they calling out for? What are they feeling? This doesn’t necessarily need to be dialogue-heavy; instead, it details what the call means.

This …

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The beginning

Day 2 (E)

Okay, don’t panic. The rock has gone, and it’s now just a river, even underneath us. The boosters auto-started because tech is cool, or we’d be sinking right now. How does solid ground just liquify? I got Pep to run some tests, and it’s water. Plain, boring water. The climate is pretty perfect for a swim, and I would jump in, but the massive lillipad makes me think there’s some giant creature somewhere. The scans show nothing, but I don’t have 100% confidence in them after what happened to Stevie. R. I. P.

Day 2 cont (E)

I have made the decision to name this planet Yaga because it is a shapeshifting witch. At sunset, right before my eyes, the river became a jungle. The ground dried up, vines shot up from nowhere, and now we are being constricted by them. Likely to death. We are doomed, I tell you! DOOMED!

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This is another new poem I have performed only once, and since that performance, it has changed a great deal. It was written because of my obsession with aftermath, which I will discuss in a newsletter soon. Everything has an aftermath, and we exist continuously in a state of aftermath. You are where you are as a result of some decision. If you’re a believer in other dimensions, then there is a version of you in another aftermath. Before I derail and ramble for pages, here is a love poem stemming from this thinking.

Keep Kind and Stay True x

My love know this

I will hold you in any aftermath,

whether it be the flicker or the still light.

I will hold you until we are dust,

and in the next life

I will find you.

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For the first dip into the pool of writing for the new year, I thought we’d do another word pool. This time, I want you to think about belonging. Where are you? Do you feel held or at home? What is the hero to your calm?

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If you feel like an extra challenge, I will be adding two bonus words to increase the difficulty. These words are ‘desert’ and ‘soil’.…

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