The Josh Lynott Project Joshua Lynott

Recorded: Monday 6th, May.

Location: Lisbon, Portugal

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program.



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Josh's Poem:



Ocean rumbles into the night, I fall asleep.

My skin turns, white to brown, Portuguese sun whispers.

Old man, eighty one, holds a five mile stare.

I miss you, eight letters, an envelope rips open.

A surfer falls into the wave, no-one hears the scream.

Wine glasses clink at sunset, it wakes the moon from slumber.

Quitting slices the dream, a coin drops into the well.

Messages of support, kindness knows who to tell.

Old times in present days, time is listening now.

Thursday can't come quick enough,

he wishes he was with her.

Cards spin as the hit the table, give me the ace.

A world away, everyone wants their space.

In the shadows, the kids play, the kids play.

The first hour, saw you in the garden.

The late hours, saw you smiling and giggling.

We must be the child, the one in the shade.

The louder the world gets, the sharper we feel the blade.

Be quiet with me, underneath the stars

I want to sit with you,

and feel,

the quietest shade of loud.


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Recorded: Monday 29th of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

THE SLAB!

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program.



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Guest: Mudi Jayasekara @mudithj



Poem:

Poem one read by Josh



"8:49pm" The Night Before:

I feel numb 

Because I know I’m about to feel so much. 

My body knows.

My brain wants all the answers but my body will do the work.

I’ve had tears behind my eyes,

Waiting to fall but holding on.

I know they’ll come out.



Somehow I’m protected.

The way everyone talks,

They know something big is about go down.

Something bigger than me.

I’m in prayers.

I’m in thoughts.

These are not small.

Well wishes are wonderful, 

But these wishes have weight.

I hope to do them proud.

I hope to do me proud.

This is a war of heart.

Play smart,

Play to life,

Because this is life.



Quote from Mudith:

"Run slow to finish fast."



Blog from Ben Dhiman:

https://bendhiman.substack.com/p/endurance-games


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Recorded: Monday 22nd of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program.

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Poem: "He Is Not A God"

I am not religious.

There is a distance between them and I

an eternity it feels,

I want to close the gap

in this lifetime,

They did this in the same years as me,

They built a god from the same factory.

We are mechanics, and I want a machine.

If he existed, so can I.

I hate being relatable,

but right now I need something to relate to.

Hope grows on the fuel of relating,

gods grow from being unrelatable.

Yet they never were.

Boring. Same old.

Day in day out.

Special isn't a word to describe.

They built machines. They built the mechanics, too.

So make me a mechanic.

Make me a stone mason.

Make me a carpenter.

Make me a scientist.

Make me boring.

Gods are boring

because they did the boring work

Here I am,

flittering about in the ocean

this is not where they exist.

Angels and gods are not friends.

All I need to know.

All that stuck with me,

He is not a god.

I will carry that.

And with that,

I may beat him

because a god is unbeatable

but a human is not

and that is all you need to know.

You can beat him

because he is human.

He is not a god.


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Recorded: Sunday 15th of April, 2024

Location: Sao Vicente, Madeira, Portugal

Sponsor: @whatasesh mentorship program.

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Poem: I will not be lost.



There is a man below attending to the potatoes,

There is a woman above, she lost her footing.

A man in the hospital waits to greet me with a smile,

The family laughs at my expense. I laugh. It's contagious.



Too far from home, I lost count of the miles.

The counting never stopped. It mustn't stop.

The moment the count stops, I'll be lost.

I see it all the time. Lost people. In a lost world.



Watching motorbikes defy gravity, 10 inches from death.

Windy roads, brakes that work, most the time.

At least when I need them. That's all that matters.

The ocean never stops talking to me.



I keep staring at the horizon, are you on the other side?

There is a dozen sides, I hope you're on the one I'm looking at.

I never knew my north from east, nothing goes south.

I'm looking for west, for wins, for wonder.



She calls. Twice in the morning. She's sweet.

"Is Pasta, okay?" Mr Man, of course it is.

He calls, once in the evening. Assuring the dream is alive.

She misses me in the evening. She's over the horizon.



He walks with a limp now. The strongest man I know.

Are his days ever dark? They must be.

Every sunset turns to dark. The sky never sleeps there.

These two legs of mine. Remind me of everything.



I keep stumbling. Guessing. Falling.

The path isn't clear. I can't see the path.

I returned their map. I'm drawing my own.

I'm not lost. Because I can't be.



The most beautiful thing I heard,

was from a man I admired.

He talked of life and said,

"the magic is not lost on me."



I went on, knowing, living.

i'll never be lost. I can't be.

It is not lost on me.

It is not lost on me.



The magic, the love, the effort,

the enduring, the hardship,

the goodluck, the trying, the care.

All of this, is not lost on me.


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Recorded: Sunday 7th of April, 2024

Location: Santa Cruz, Madeira, Portugal

Sponsor: Josh Lynott Mentorship Program

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Poem one: "Carve yourself to stone"

Carve yourself to stone,

Work away into the dust

And come back tomorrow

You will blunt all that sharpens you

Please return inspired

Because the sword needs the stone

Without it

You will remain rounded to the world

No cut through

Rolling with the crowd

Missing opportunity

Because you were scared to hold something sharp

Let yourself carve

Into the dust. - JL



Poem Two: Sardine Can

Jammed in a tin can, 

My family are below,

Stripping flowers, walking dogs, staring at screens.

Me and 400 sardines,

Staring at screens, wishing I could send flowers, needing water.

As above, so below. 

I’m up here, they wouldn’t even know. 

I’m so far away, and going further.

Now I’m in the ocean.

Not in it, not on it, above it. I’m not above them.

I just see things differently.

All these planes, I think they did that to me. 

I’m a sardine bouncing between tin cans.

Some would do anything to be a sardine

I must remember that.1

4 hours in a tin can,

Is a small price to pay.



Poem Three: Missing You.

I want to miss you whilst you’re in my arms,

So when you’re not,

I’ve done the missing.

You won’t be missing.

You’ll be there,

In my arms.

You won’t be there, 

You won’t be missing.

We don’t miss what we have,

But I want to miss you,

When I have you.

My arms want to miss you twice.

That way, you’ll know what I felt

All the times I missed you.

And maybe I’ll never miss you again.

Because I did all the missing.

But it doesn’t work like that.

I’ll always miss you, 

Till you’re back in my arms. 


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Recorded: April 1, 2024

Madeira, Portugal.

Major tech difficulties.





Poem: Clunky.Somewhere between the horizon and my kitchen,The sun appeared, coffee in hand. What are you doing there? I tipped granola into my bowl of honey.And went on with my day. Three flights, three beds, three daysScrambled eggs look at me with envyYou’re not one of us.Get out of the pan, go back to sleep.I feel flat, but stand five foot tenIs the rabbit on the moon really making riceAll I want is one grain.One grain of Familiarity,Calm,Routine.Clunk is as clunky does,Like the gear stick in my right hand.The accelerator should be on my left, it’s not.But I don’t really care,It all becomes one.So what’s there to learn under an orange roof,Some days it takes five days to walk the dogClothes talk to more people inside outRain laughs at you when it’s sunny insideJournals fill up with two cups of coffee.Poetry sense, makes doesn’t, I got it wrong, say it again.Poetry makes doesn’t sense,Say it again, I got it wrong.Poetry doesn’t make sense.The joy of clunkyIs like the sweet fruit with bruisesOften overlooked, but when devouredYou’re glad it fellAnd no-one else picked it up.I want to walk to the sun, Meet it before the horizon but not at my kitchen.Whilst it’s still bathing, We can talk about clunky,Just like my coffee machine.Just like my brain this week.


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