Waiting for the girl in the fire

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.

Ancestor’s song

These ashes

this dust,

this earth

from where I emerged

this rain

this pain

the blood surges

in my veins

these hands outstretched towards the sky

could be branches of trees

life is better taught when it dances

to music

through bodies through knees

whether we can hear the music or not

we dance to the tunes of our ancestors

their dreams beat in our chests

and bless our minds and souls

sometimes I think their ghosts watch on

or are reincarnated into our songs.

The writer

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.

Strange child blues

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.

Panic attack

The breathing, needing distance

Panic attack insistence

beating against the ribs bones and skin

I cannot escape I am chased within

By the a hound I cannot see

It’s agony

My breathing speeds up

I lose my voice

I fear the destroyer of peace of mind

I am the death of kindness

and insistent

to cause such pain

I am agony and fear like death

I am agony and lack of breath

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.

To die at sixteen

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.

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