The feel of the pen
on the paper
the poet grabs a verse.
the dripping of morphine
the flow of endorphins
flow of electronic lines
across the monitor
let’s hope we don’t flatline
this mere mortal
needs a portal to the stars
this mere mortal needs
defibrillation to the heart
the way the poetry forms
in the lungs and the mind
the way life needs beauty
is sometimes unkind
I am the blood transfusion
Radioactive X-rays know
Poetry opens doors
I am the emergency poet
I will take flight
never shall I be tamed
But I will make that heart beat
and get you out of your seat
And on the road to recovery
Because poetry heals
and steals back our songs
what could go wrong?
when the masses are losing
make your money on the side
as worlds collide
you have no answers
A gamer a chancer
of a bygone age
against the poor
corporations own your soul
sponsored by …
do you believe your own lies
your ego more inflated than a hot air
a lying silver spooned goon.
The warmth of a fire
in a welcoming home.
The way the words settled I was not alone,
time spent with friends
the tying of loose ends
and memories made in all seasons
reasons why we made this place is home
the love and friendship I was shown
whether playing board games with others
or just laying and chilling out under bed covers
we made this our home
and we feel safe and respected
with freedom to roam.
A beautiful poet singing beautiful poetry
lost your wife
went to hades with your life
made king hades and Persephone shed a tear
and let you in
Resolved to rescue your beautiful dead wife
but you would fail
When you turned back she fled back into hade’s shades
destroyed by love
destroyed by love and loss
pray to the sky that you will meet her again
but love is just beautiful blood stain
and what we are is merely blood, fire and dust and a soul.
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…