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.

Sometimes

Sometimes

The world goes on behind my window

I stare out into the suns glare

I wrap myself around my thoughts

and all that I have sought

do I still care?

Sometimes

I am broken beggar

trying to get a leg up

sometimes I want to say

words of meaning

am I still dreaming?

Sometimes

my hearts soft like paper

sometimes it’s hard like a diamond

fashioned with pressure and heat

sometimes I play my songs on repeat

hoping to make my way to someone’s smile on the street.

Sometimes

I bow to the dark

sometimes I look to the stars sparkling in the sky

sometimes I want to die

but I realise life is short

and I love my friends to much to make this life end

so my epitaph will say I loved until my world drifted away

but I left you my words and that’s more than ok.

Love in the midst of pain

In the midst of pain

lies love

that shields us

it sustains our hopes and dreams

it doesn’t silence sadness

but let’s us open up

we all drink from a cup of love

even if sometimes feels

like it’s a small fairy cup

we won’t give up our longing

for people and places

faces that smile warmth

even in the darkest of stories

love shines through

it gives us happiness sometimes

and gives us unwavering faith to keep going

the seed of our growth

bitterness and hatred

aren’t the abating of love

they are merely the twisted distortions

of love

and if we understood that

we would once again understand

that love can save us all just reach out your hand.

There are galaxies inside of me

There are galaxies inside of me

waiting to be explored

there are stories to be told that leave you wanting more

that are religions in the chaos of my mind

but am I blind to all the possibilities

Fed by science’s facts

the love in my heart set on targets I will never reach

the knowledge I will never preach

the words I won’t speak

but I am the madness

the chaos the light the order the darkness

I am the shadow of a prophet a wizard’s fairy tale…

Atlas

It tares apart like paper
born from a saviour’s verse
The devil doesn’t mind, she makes it worse
I collect the curses
I recycle them like newspaper
rhetorical rhymes
in my life of grime.

I shine like the steeple of church
but I’d rather be the birch the trunk of a tree
for this a goddess induced reality
Wisdom causing minds full of incoherent clarity
I lose my faith wandering in garden labyrinths
the chances are we won’t find the goddess or her nymphs
or there chalices in the angles or angel absinthe
that we drink or think outside our boxes
so neat we feel no feeling in our defeat
yet we drink it all down
like sad pathetic clowns
in the pubs wearing our overalls and scrubbing away.

Polishing our lamps just to find genies or djinn
in our lives that our extraordinary and full of sin
yet we all fall beneath the skin
the earth full of mud and shit
the page half written is full of it
yet it feeds us and bears fruit
forms the roots of all we cultivate
for man is no man unless he has a little hate
and enough love to permeate
his sad heart
beating in tune to the bleeding womb
he wants to enter
another grand venture
trying to give his child
the wisdom of being wild
and free while they try to chain his children
with the care they placed on his shoulders
I love you Atlas don’t get tired
Or older the love that beats in your soul
don’t let the fire get colder…

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.,,

Ancestor’s song

These ashes

this dust,

this earth

from where I emerged

this rain

this pain

the blood surges

in my veins

these hands outstretched towards the sky

could be branches of trees

life is better taught when it dances

to music

through bodies through knees

whether we can hear the music or not

we dance to the tunes of our ancestors

their dreams beat in our chests

and bless our minds and souls

sometimes I think their ghosts watch on

or are reincarnated into our songs.

Rat

Scurrying this way and that
avoiding the hierarchy of the fat cats
Dirty and free with no real responsibility
there can be no art without chaos
another example of pathos
or happiness
Flip the coin
The sides join
the anagram of rat is art
wouldn’t you like to rip apart
Civilisation and start anew
I turned into a rat my fur grew and grew
my tail burst I shrank and shrank
into dark spaces
surrounded by little faces
In this wasteland world
my appetite for chaos uncurled.

“On Painting Rats, and the Glorification of Them. They exist without permission. They are hated, hunted and persecuted. They live in quiet desperation amongst the filth. And yet they are capable of bringing entire civilizations to their knees. If you are dirty, insignificant, and unloved then rats are the ultimate role model.”
― Banksy, Wall and Piece

New Beginnings

As the old years cards fold

and we are dealt a new hand

when we’d give anything to understand

Fate’s plan.

we have to make as much as we can

Of our lucky stars

and hard work

whether lord or lady or office clerk

we hold the keys to doors unseen

we must follow our dreams

or facilitate the dreams

of our children

and even when

our cards are a bad hand

we can take the odds

and sods

and ask for help

for love is stealth

and it can over come

so don’t be glum

turn over new leaves

Life is better lived

when we move forward and breathe in new air