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.

Fire burns

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

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

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.

Ugly

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

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.

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.