The woman with many faces

In the darkness and light of a daydream from a distant heaven. The woman with many faces but one soul. I have looked at legends and myths. She is a gift. To live many lives and still remember some of them is her curse.

I remember she woke my kaleidoscopic mind like in the song porcelain by Moby. A conversation between the two of us. Her timelines spread across mine. Her heart and soul a beacon for mine.

Giving me a reason for life and seeing beyond the illusion of separation. She has been living all the lives I see through the collective unconscious the Holy Spirit is a girl a woman a mother a sister a friend a lover and so much more. Life would be a mistake without her music. She speaks through the crowd words of wisdom that guide me.

I have been labelled schizophrenic but I can see her spirit in all things. The way the wind moves the trees leaves she is one who guides us all. Oneness is what I have found I am her protector I love her darkness her light some may say I have lost my mind. And all the unkind things but those people are blind.

Book of shadows

Magic can be drawn from

the spaces under your bed

where there are night and shadows

there’s magic instead

like the stars that burn

dark energy forms

we are the universe born

scribbled chaos in ink

sinking into depths of imagination

and sensations

magic that is a promise

yet to be made

An obsidian blade

that protects us from harm

cuts through curses and dark arms

unseen

we need the shadows as much as the stars

for contrast is what we are.

If you look beyond my skin

If you look beyond my skin

what would you see within?

My body overweight

I am no A class celebrity

ripped and shredded

I am no hot bod

to be bedded

I may have words of wisdom

I may write

you will never see my fight

to be heard

everyone has a story to tell

from angels in heaven to men in hell

I am who I am

I keep my truths hidden because I don’t want to burn bridges

I fidget with hands

make plans

but you will always judge me on aesthetics

and my superficial exterior

when I know my soul and interior

aren’t inferior.

Memories and the hooks of the mind

The hooks of the mind

can be unkind

they get caught in the past

in happy go lucky memories cast

in fires of joy

or they get caught in the skin

of the unkind memories we keep deep within

sometimes I want to fish with those hooks

catch memories where I want to look

nostalgic daydreams

but the present is all we really have

when we realise that memories are trying for a land grab

the fish like memories we have stored

need a sea

but between you and me and I just want to be…

There’s a cat made of light on my window

There is a cat made of light

On my window

watch them sun glow

sometimes they wake me up in the morning

There’s sometimes a cat made of shadow

it hides from the rain

and my worrying mind’s brain

There is a cat made of stars

blinking and meowing

purring and scratching

latching onto the window with its claws

There is a white cat it’ll find me death

it’s name it’s Azrael

and when it’s on my shoulder

I will walk into the life beyond skin

and never get any older.