I stole your heart I lost the world

tortured by truth

a name on your lips

Jesus’s shadow remains

the contrast stains the rainbow it’s many colours dance

I won’t leave it to chance

The Lightning you are afraid of

Speaks of thunderstorms

but they are born in my head

I stitch the threads

together

forever in daydreams and songs

I lost my sun

But my heart beats strong.

The four corners of a page

The forgotten rage

the tenderness of a kiss

all get written on these blank pages

the journal I write

to set my emotions a light

epiphanies and realisations

new sensations

became metaphors

that open doors

similes that create smiles with ease

I am the pen tangled with the page

I am the rhymes written to take to the stage

and music arrives

to create vibes raps and hip hop

don’t stop

write and keep writing

the only way from here

is the place we touch in our minds eye

the soul is wet and it’s ink

let’s sink further still

for we have the will

to be better

love letters

to our creativity.

Love in the midst of pain

In the midst of pain

lies love

that shields us

it sustains our hopes and dreams

it doesn’t silence sadness

but let’s us open up

we all drink from a cup of love

even if sometimes feels

like it’s a small fairy cup

we won’t give up our longing

for people and places

faces that smile warmth

even in the darkest of stories

love shines through

it gives us happiness sometimes

and gives us unwavering faith to keep going

the seed of our growth

bitterness and hatred

aren’t the abating of love

they are merely the twisted distortions

of love

and if we understood that

we would once again understand

that love can save us all just reach out your hand.

There are galaxies inside of me

There are galaxies inside of me

waiting to be explored

there are stories to be told that leave you wanting more

that are religions in the chaos of my mind

but am I blind to all the possibilities

Fed by science’s facts

the love in my heart set on targets I will never reach

the knowledge I will never preach

the words I won’t speak

but I am the madness

the chaos the light the order the darkness

I am the shadow of a prophet a wizard’s fairy tale…

Atlas

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…

Will they tell the story of…?

Police tape around skate parks

the way we avoided each other even before it got dark.

the panic buying of toilet rolls

The dull days inside, just one stroll allowed

the clapping for the nhs workers outside

the way the community came together

Somethings we should treasure

The video calling and time spent playing PlayStation games

The constant news feed and shaming of people who weren’t isolating

The time spent within our houses grating

cause of the sun shine outside

but we are still alive

we will fight on regardless…

Your skin is like a sweet wrapper

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.

The eternity ring

Of all the things that sting

is that I know your future life

It grates to know that I wait

for this is my last one

I am overcome with sadness I am undone

as we talk at cross purposes

What loneliness and hurt this is

I promised you that I’d wait for ever as your best friend

but love shatters like glass in the end

You are my mirror…

The ghost child of the man in the asylum

In side the beaten white walls of an mental institution

where people go to be uprooted from their delusions

Sat a man his hand outstretched as if holding hands with the dark

No spark to light his way, only the tragic marks his way

he used to play childish games by himself

look they say where is his mental health?

has it left him altogether why does his play childish games

he would call a name on the wind

for the child he lost unbeknown to them

Tilly or Matilda the ghost of a child of six

who he held in his arms before he was sick

she swallowed her tongue in an epileptic fit

but before then were eye spy and guessing games

before then were pin the tale on the donkey and blind mans buff

I guess we are all in a way sheltering memories like ghosts

In the places in the heart we hide

which we can never move away from no matter how we stride

or how many steps we take

life is sometimes an evil fate.