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.
Fire burns
turn the page before it burns away
cinders, words charred
Stars burn
Nuclear fusion
Life is fire or is that an illusion?
Love the unquenchable desire
to form flame
to gather that person’s many names
and love them all
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
The ash forms a tree
Yggdrasil the ash tree of life
Forming us anew
The flames that burn in me and you
If humanity stood for kindness
not for the awful blindness of thinking they were better
if love entered our hearts and we wrote love letters to the earth
in the form of actions and weren’t distracted
and cursed.
then I wouldn’t be a Poet against humanity
I wouldn’t ask questions about our collective sanity
I’d only ask for love and peace
for life is unfair but we are beasts.
If we evolve into beings of light
then we must ask ourselves to fight
for to preserve justice
for that is humanities only hope.
All that remains
is the pain of knowing…
There’s magic in your skin
I want to hold you
my cold, bold heart wants to grasp
your hand
make you understand.
We are possessed by a spirit and it’s yours
for there is no cure for love
except drowning in it.
I ate an apple it reminded me of the sinners tale
but love in a garden cannot fail
if talk and walk again together
I know that the illusion of separation can be severed.
I wish I was so handsome I’d appear in GQ
but if I took off my clothes I’d face ridicule
I wish I my eyes were blue skies
I wish I set women’s hearts on fire
All I have are words
poetry
may trickle from my tongue like a tap
but I am not a male version of a honey trap
I may in some ways be wise
but people may want to keep their eyes closed
but I suppose every truth is like that when exposed.
Magic cannot be taught,
It’s there to be done!
Preachers talk
I walk away
Smell their words decay
in the cold light of day.
I wont be psychologist’s puppet
or a teachers pet
those people think they know better
I may live with some degree of regret
but I know life’s first lesson
is that life isn’t fair
it tears apart innocent lives
it makes us grieve
and takes away our belief
In justice
and that injustice causes
all sorts of evils in the world
for every boy or girl.
So follow your own path
and chase the sun
for the we were meant to believe in magic
and real magic cannot be taught its there to be done.
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.
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.