Honesty

People don’t want truth

delusions and illusions

are more loved

more accepted

more respected

Honesty, a fools game

people douse you in shame

a repulsive mix

stick and stones

may break my bones

but words will dethrone

a king from his own throne

and people will turn away

and leave him alone

the mirror of truth is always distorted

we want to keep it that way

we aren’t objective

we want to be respected

but our public relations feed on Facebook

would bleed away if ever we showed who really are

Our fragility and our fragile ego

Break like a dropped model of Lego.

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.

Exceptional

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.

If God could answer

Hanging on the cross

collecting the dross

on the doss

the dole,

of having a soul

what are we but clay pots collecting water?

no we are more and always have been

the views we have seen

the rhythms from the heart

the frequencies of our words

the skies, the birds

the moaning of love making

cell division shaking

through separation

like salt dissolving in water

and yet we are sons and daughters

trying to identify with our identities

yet eventually returning to the soul we came from

our bodies returning to dust

but our soul remains

in the Everglades.

People have problems

People have problems

and the problems have people.

We grow hope but it’s up the church steeple.

I want to talk about mine but no one listens

they are arguing and talking loudly missing

the point

all my words are disjointed

why should yours take preference let’s talk about mine

see mine are more pressing so let’s not whine about yours

for let’s face it you don’t want hear what’s bottled up in my daily dose of fears

you’ve all got your problems

can I turn into a sad little shadow

haunting a corner of a solitary room

there’s no room for me in your gloom

And tombs aren’t the sought of place

for the daily rat race

so shout the loudest

be proud of your problems

let me be an agony aunt

for you when it’s my turn you won’t or can’t…

listen…

My God

My god won’t fit in my veins
won’t fit in this skin
she doesn’t wear a skirt
she has shed her skin
She is a soul
she wears many faces
Many races worship her
she has many names
and cannot be tamed
my god is a woman
she’s the soul of the universe
clothed in darkness and white light
and the many shades of the rainbow
and she knows wisdom we all seek
and sometimes she sends angels to peak
through the clouds
and sometimes she is quiet, whispering, loud
and she speaks to me in dreams
and carries the weight of her universe
in her purse.

I realised my truth

Sitting in the darkness of my nan’s cupboard under the stairs talking to god

an odd little boy

Who wanted his dreams to matter

Who wanted them to be true

I needed love but I need my beliefs to be real too.

my life’s foundations aren’t love as they ought to be

but wanting to have a special relationship with the creating force or spiritual entity

or maybe to be special or chosen myself

I am the monster who daydreamed blue skies

but when the light in my eyes dies

who will I be?

the man with tears in his eyes for all he let go

the man with tears in his eyes because he never got to let his heart show

someone that they mattered above all

my heart was always a shield or a wall.,,

The writer

The clatter of screams
as vulnerable as a photo in time of the ill
looking inward to madness for the pill
looking for scape goats
to coat our sadness in grief
the way out temperature of relief
we are the haunted hungry ghosts
from an island mentality
caught in avarice like animality
the bleeding hearts couldn’t hold back their pack instincts
the writer keeps his thoughts succinct
but the light is where we are all linked
Hope must shine a light to scare the darkness away
we need the goddess to shine her rays
Wisdom is in the creation myth
but lies can’t paint the truth
the artist doesn’t need proof
the scientist his heart speaks louder than the rhythm in his chest
The door way answers the key with a rest.

Tether

A tether

not made of leather

binds us together

electric second sight

an angel wings sings of flight

you have a halo you can’t see

though it burns in my eyes

I spy, it weighs you down

but it makes you beautiful it’s your crown

dutifully fighting for what’s right

Our minds collide and I see into void

between us

but it’s our souls entwined

yours and mine

That make bells chime

stars align

signs I swallow

but I will follow your words Sophia

Goddess of wisdom

light of the soul

you understand my darkness

and my light

I see your face inside my mind.

The eternity ring

Of all the things that sting

is that I know your future life

It grates to know that I wait

for this is my last one

I am overcome with sadness I am undone

as we talk at cross purposes

What loneliness and hurt this is

I promised you that I’d wait for ever as your best friend

but love shatters like glass in the end

You are my mirror…