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.

Paper bomb

If we could read all the love letters

the poetry projected over the years

the ink would form the night

the words stars

the sun our intention to love

Would rise every time we wrote the words

the sky and birds

would scream we are alive

I would use the paper and poems we wrote

to drop from the sky

letters and prayers from us to god

to breach the void between us

The elation of creation

within our United Nations.

The Emergency Poet

The feel of the pen

on the paper

the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine

the flow of endorphins

flow of electronic lines

across the monitor

let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal

needs a portal to the stars

this mere mortal needs

defibrillation to the heart

the way the poetry forms

in the lungs and the mind

the way life needs beauty

is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion

the illusion

of poems

bells chime

Electrons flow

Radioactive X-rays know

Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet

I will take flight

in flames

never shall I be tamed

But I will make that heart beat

and get you out of your seat

And on the road to recovery

and discovery

Because poetry heals

and steals back our songs

what could go wrong?

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

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.

I have loved you across lifetimes

Burning bright and resilient

burning and brilliant

I love yous unsaid

I held the key to heaven

in my right hand

it was to the back door

I broke into her house to tell her I loved her

I knew her across life times

I am in conversation with the goddess

now I am in distress

I love her nevertheless

she said she’d read all my poems

she speaks to me in my head

and tells me she hates me

but in songs she tells me she loves me sometimes

Sophia I hope you find your wisdom

and the key I threw away

I loved you across life times

did you know?

I just want to go home

Without you I am bird with broken wings

I cannot sing

My little Empire

My dreams,my schemes,my silence, my words

scattered about

My legacy doesn’t speak doubt

You will see gold glinting in the corner of your eye

diamond tears wept

that kept you alive

because you drank from their cup

I am

You

You

are

me

This life is better

this life is enough

when you acknowledge we all have empires

we are enough…

Self isolation sleeping beauty

Sleeping on a bed 
waiting for the world to stop it’s lockdown
you are a vision of beauty
waiting for this pandemic pandemonium to cease 
you didn’t eat a poisoned apple 
you just sleep,
waiting for the apocalypse 
or a prince’s lips to kiss
oxygen is hard to come by
and we can’t let you go 
you sleep, waiting for the virus to stop 
we give you a shot
of antibiotics. 

The nurses and doctors know
that you a few days left to show
whether you’ll recover 
your life and find a lover.

But this life is cruel and unfair
we love you
but you look back at us with a blank stare…