Expander

Merging images

Refracted kaleidoscopes

love is time

and time is movement.

I am the places,the faces

of the extraordinary

Interacting on your soul

the way the singing bowl hums

and the waveform on your tongue

I am expansion of your cells

and your soul which dwells

in the cave of the overmind

The collective consciousness

breathing

the water seething seeping and flowing

the eyes which see into the all knowing

I am the light

which goes on

Burning

Your guide walking and showing you the way

it might be late in the day

but I am you and you are me

Music is magic

even the fire dances

to its song

it’s with you I belong.

Lockdown loner

Alone in all this

is a devil’s deathly kiss

the silence is terrible

this isn’t bliss

it’s the opposite.

The composition

of terrible dreams,

yearning for vaccines

and cures

longing to be with her.

But knowing silence won’t speak

and won’t brush the tears of my cheek

my only way out round my Dads

But we are all sad

separation

saps us and our frustration

talks in to us in the dark

and nightmares come to claim our spark

the uncertainty makes its mark

and the only joy I can gain

Is giving Christmas presents in my pain

to children I hope I will make feel better

and the light of their smiles will free me

and will feed more than Christmas food.

Those who shout the loudest get heard

Those who shout the loudest get heard

Their over inflated words

Squawking like birds

While the wise doubt themselves

books unwritten not sold on shop shelves

I once said that life was made up critics,

Well wishers and such

Life is becoming too much

Your golden platitudes no ones crutch

I cannot eat your words

Drink your well wished prayers

I only appreciate actions

they are my only distraction…

You can’t imagine the things I have seen

You can’t imagine my dreams

you can’t think like me in every way

I am unique, I pave the way

I maybe distant

sometimes obtuse

I sometimes let loose

my fears and anger prangs

like a car hitting a wall

but I hold as much truth as you all

See I am schizophrenic

I hear voices

But don’t despair

I see choices

they hang in the air

I have been broken

I don’t expect you to always care

I doggedly battle on

Cause I still know right from wrong

even with whispers and shouts in my mind

I fight to be human and to be kind

Though I suffer with paranoia

the darkness which destroys

I love life enough to stay here and not be destroyed

so don’t have pity

Let me speak and write and sing

because I know sadness is a painful muse

but creativity is my thing.

I come from a lost home

I come from

A lost home

my psychosis at 16

two years of hell

Dad and mum threw me out

My roots broken

Then Living in hostel

With Creaking fire safe doors

council estate yellow bricks and concrete

Dirty mirky stained glass windows

looking out on the world

Not a church

where I would fashion ideals

But a place I could be at peace and reshape my soul

Even in a place which had a

scent of old burnt out cigarettes

Smokey stained furniture

like an old fashioned bed and breakfast

The kitchen smelt of convenience.

Packs of chicken and beef super noodles

Boiling in a pan.

This is where freedom started

Hope in the darkness

Grey days but sometimes occasional sun

Dance music blaring from my boom box

a CD player in my room

chemical brothers basement jaxx tracks

Paper and pen

Penning poems

finding myself

I still loved a girl called Becky

who didn’t love me

I gave up,drinking as my mental health was suffering

Giving up the poison

for my own piece of mind.

Andover ash tree stream

Andover means ash tree stream

The ash tree was said to be the tree of life

we are born from its ashes.

Andover ash trees

Rising from the Ash trees

we are the dust

from those trees

the first man and woman rose from the ashes

maybe we were born in the fires

of dead worlds

every boy and every girl

are Phoenix souls

Just thoughts

Thoughts

Thoughts should fill my mind

but I am blind.

my words just hot air

and my tears just water

I sink beneath the autumn leaves

I am just caught here.

my sentiments just cliches

my ideas yesterday views

the true artists leave me

they pick apart my clues

My brain just wreckage

my poems just spoken

all thats left of me is shopping carts

and Tesco’s tokens

My wages are benefits

My unemployed gains

I am picking apart the drains

for my blood stains

everything I do

I haven’t even got a clue…

When Facebook…

When Facebook is filled with memes

broken pictures and shattered dreams

when you respond with a haha like

but no one recognises your plight

when they are too busy finding out their character is that of a potato

and you get ignored but don’t hate though

when they share posts like who would narrate your life

and you want to get out of that conversation because it probably be piers Morgan and his wife

remember you chose to live on Facebook and be a troll

and life is out your door and off your phone which is sucking away your soul.

Authors of the great myth

Given the gift

of sight

we fight and wrestle

nestling

in escapism

but it’s a prison.

she is out there

Sophia the goddess of wisdom

she spoke to me when I was 7

now I am nearly 37

I hear her voice

like yin and yang

Speaking her words to me

Am I just hearing things?

Is my mind just broken and in a sling?

Or am I just another author with a gift?