In the days when the exception they say
doesn’t need correction.
we are all creative
but some have it beaten out of us
at some stage
the war the exceptional person rages
is either to have their words heard
or to keep their creative side alive
and not have it brutalised or strangled
an Angel or messenger of light
has to fight to maintain their angle of light
and their perspective and sight.
When billionaires are sitting on more money than a lords hoard
and their money is in a tax haven abroad
can a billionaire work harder than overstretched nurse?
and the nurse has to go to a food bank because of their empty purse
It’s exploitation of peoples hard work.
DNA well folded origami in our bodies
Oddly containing characters characteristics and souls
We grasp at a identity
Maybe DNA is musical notes
and a rhythm
To our heart beat.
In this aching
waking dream we live in
I love you is hardest thing to mean
but waiting has no solace
my heart I polish for you
but will the stains wash out?
I won’t doubt you are worth it.
Reaching me through the void
I cried out to you when they held me down
In the A and E ward I told them who you were
But like big cats don’t always purr
you are something to be worshipped
glorified and feared
If perfect love has no fear
it is love that has been realised
I wait in the shadows
dancing in the dark
love is the flames not just the spark
to light my way…
The gobble de gook monster on your shoulder
do we get wiser when we get older?
I remain stuttering mumbling
my mind rumbling
I can’t actualise or realise
I cannot translate between mind and pen
and even when
I try to speak my tongue drags across the words
like a flat tyre on a bike
I wish this gobble de gook monster would take a hike
but he’s a part of me like the stories I tell
and even hell
is something I can’t be without.