Heaven is heart ache
just beating in my chest
At least it’s still there
It gives me no rest.
I turned down a goddess in her underwear
just so I could play saviour
all my dreams made of paper
nightmares paper cuts
doomed to hear the words of sluts
Starving just to lap up leftovers up
I dream of being a hero
but I am fascinated by the villainess
the heroine is too much of a drug
I slug it out with my mind but depression is a thug
dominating my ever move
I love to dance but my song isn’t my groove
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…
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.,,
Glowing golden
Shiny packet
you are a devilish racket
I love your curves
how your body swerves
with angles
I love your words your advertising
you are my angel
my demon
I am possessed by my possession
your body is a sweet wrapper
I love you
Sticky and gooey
Your soul and mine
entwined.
I have tried to keep my promises
I have tried to keep my vows
I have tried to keep my actions
I have tried to keep my course locked on you
I have held your voice in my head
when will it be my turn to save you instead
you the woman in the flames
on a throne of white light
I am desperate to fight
for the right to hold you in my arms
When will we speak with tongues unguarded
by the rules they have written
we all mean something to one another
Sisters and brothers
you are the word of love in my mouth
the song in my heart
you are the mornings light
the birds dancing mid flight
You told me you’d need me in the future
The flames descend from the sky
I am you and you are me
Yin and yang’s everlasting embrace
I know our soul cannot just die.
The clatter of screams
as vulnerable as a photo in time of the ill
looking inward to madness for the pill
looking for scape goats
to coat our sadness in grief
the way out temperature of relief
we are the haunted hungry ghosts
from an island mentality
caught in avarice like animality
the bleeding hearts couldn’t hold back their pack instincts
the writer keeps his thoughts succinct
but the light is where we are all linked
Hope must shine a light to scare the darkness away
we need the goddess to shine her rays
Wisdom is in the creation myth
but lies can’t paint the truth
the artist doesn’t need proof
the scientist his heart speaks louder than the rhythm in his chest
The door way answers the key with a rest.
A tether
not made of leather
binds us together
electric second sight
an angel wings sings of flight
you have a halo you can’t see
though it burns in my eyes
I spy, it weighs you down
but it makes you beautiful it’s your crown
dutifully fighting for what’s right
Our minds collide and I see into void
between us
but it’s our souls entwined
yours and mine
That make bells chime
stars align
signs I swallow
but I will follow your words Sophia
Goddess of wisdom
light of the soul
you understand my darkness
and my light
I see your face inside my mind.
I used to talk to god in the dark wilds of my grans cupboard under the stairs
I used to walk around the playground looking for friends just getting blank glares
I used to think god was a man but it’s probably a goddess I was looking for
I used to think I had the key to heavens door,
I broke into her house looking to talk some more
I used to want to be last messenger of god but the girl with many faces needs someone else
I have walked through the white corridors of mental asylums
I have been a child trying to find her
She left me clues
this is the haunted man once a strange child blues.
All your dreams never started
dearly departed
That’s how I felt
Kneeling on a hospital floor praying to you
to save my life
you are my goddess of wisdom
my teeth going rotten
like the dreams I had as a child
it’s heart wrenching
my parents said my psychosis
was a bereavement
the life intended, lost
I had to be mended there would be a cost
goddess of the universe, girl with many faces
I have been through a war with myself
but my mental health
is the thing I can never get back
but sometimes their are cracks of light through the wall
I know the goddess understands us all.
Time may pick her locks
moths eat her frocks
and her splendid looks may fade
but she will still hold my heart
like the spark of her voice
hangs like an echo in the Everglades
in Elysium fields her flowers grow
Only the roses know
the gardeners hands
we nurture the voice we want to hear
even if it is the one we fear
we grow all of what we know
I loved her so
but I was fearful of losing
the ghost of her out of my head.
For if I lose her voices dulcet tone
I will be truly left alone…