Dying to live
Living to die
uncomfortable eyes
Starry skies
highlight
our plight
our love
cast everywhere
like a blanket of night and stars
but we bear the scars
the wounds and fires
that make us who we are.
Tag Archives: art
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