Black ribbon
needs driven
stockings and suspenders
it’s mad our endless drive
for sex
black rimmed specs
A sexually active secretary
bends into an awkward pose
one you have chose
to fore fill your fantasy
Baring all
her vulva a coin slot
waiting for an offering
her ass like a forbidden fruit
In which to shoot
Your shot
your seed
in a garden of need.
I have been occupied
Like the sign on a toilet cubicle
I have been subjected to your ridicule
Your voice comes and goes
like the wind that blows
Maybe my heart was hollow
and needed to be possessed
but now I cannot rest.
Silence traps daydreams
energy burns
the multi verses yearn
worlds that never were
outstretch themselves in time
The universes machine purrs
and her soul pines
for her lover to set her free
she creates doors for just one key
she speaks through us all
just to speak to me
I seek answers but love is the only answer we need
but in this daydream my healed hand bleeds
and sometimes hurts
she is my reason my soul
I am the messenger of the monad the mind of heaven
the hour is late the end is all ready here
it’s time to let go of all our childish fear.
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.
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 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?
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
The diamonds in your eyes
Will there still be there when you die?
I like to say it’s all lies,
your light will shine like stars in the night sky
we are one
our oneness is the universe
the goddess holds in her purse
close to her heart.
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.