The graffiti
that appears on these four walls
isn’t just scribble isn’t just scrawl
it’s magic is intangible
tangling us all
mystical symbols enthrall
They detect and protect
us all from bad spirits
Entities that would eventually suck spirit
from soul and bone
not leaving us alone
Who writes this graffiti no one knows
spirit guides hands that glow
in the throes
of a wind that blows
what it says nobody knows
except the writers hands.
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.
One day I might live up to being a toy character
out of paw patrol
or hey dougie
A wizard or witch who has mastered the
art of magic
instead of tragic
rock star
or a burnt out old poet
maybe I will be reincarnated as Pegasus
to fly on by
in the clear blue sky
with fluffy clouds
one day I might be a superhero of my own making
in a graphic novel
or a saviour of person trapped in a hovel
I am definitely in awe
of people who aren’t bores
what are we if we can’t dream
of being better?
and writing our own stories and letters
to our imagination.
Schizophrenia and the caveman
I dreamt of telling stories
forged in magic and music.
I heard voices of gods
angels and demons
In the flickering flames
that kept me warm.
It was part of my evolution
but sometimes
did wisdom is seen as mental illness
Nowadays I am known as a schizophrenic
I was a caveman with a shamans knowledge
Now they say I am something to be feared
When I was just reaching out
to understand.
People tell me it’s easy to reach forty
I waged a war to get here
At 10 years old I ran away
a post man found me
and delivered me back to my mum
At 16 psychosis blew my mind
always out of step with time
At 18 I found poetry and rhyme
but suicidal tendencies stuck in my mind
At 21 I climbed a mountain in foreign land to see the Dawn
At 25 I wrote a letter to myself at 16
Because although I saw stars I still bore the scars
from my breakdowns
At 30 I pressed the reset button
and found myself in hospital again
but my life twisted and turned my heart burned
I found creative writing course which inspired at 32
I recited poetry on the radio too
and fought for community projects
to advertise and endorse
At 40 I live my life
I show love and remorse
I fight to live but that’s what life is for me
but in between moments of pain and work
Is the happiness I desired and the freedom I planted like the seeds that formed a tree
I sit in their shade
One day my body will fade
but I will be a soul free in the wind
guiding others my kin.
We all fight to be kind
to have love and life
interchangeable in our minds
don’t live off of anyone
or become a vampire
that feeds on blood, flesh and tears
I loved you throughout the years
We are the universe
we are god
from children of inner sense
to wisdoms pre-tense
we live our lives wild and free
untamed by the flames of reality
which course and flow
like watery waves
We all have light waves running through us
Our consciousness cannot die
even of our last sigh.
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.
Words have a history
it’s not a mystery
If you do the research
from racist toys
for girls and boys
we have to respect
words have a history
and so do objects
so please have some respect
and acknowledge the implications
we all want to be loved above stereotypes
and life is cannot be lived in present only;
history matters
and leaves us sometimes in tatters
words will often leave us broken
hurting us more than sticks and stones
and broken bones.
I want to Swipe left
On this world
no love finds me
no matter how I try
the right way to live is to cry
but at least I am here
I leave my mark
my divinity just a spark
I have written a thousand poems of longing
I have ached thousands days of love
and never been touched
I clutched at thousand straws
fought a thousand wars
in my head
if I could ever be respected
I’d choose love instead
as love is hope
and fear is respect
I answer in the tongue of the goddess
the only language I understand
in the chaos which haunts and daunts me.
From Cinematic skies
to the cemeteries where they lay us to rest.
From the hovels of the poor
to the grand entrances of lords.
From ladies who go out on ladies nights
to men beaten by many fights
the stories we tell ourselves
not sold on supermarket shelves.
From the desperate love in ashes
to tattoos of hearts set like gashes
from the schools classes
through to the waiting rooms of life
from the mother cradling her daughter
to the Dad fighting his way through wars and slaughter
to the conventions of gay and straight
the way we breathe in life and wait
or wipe the slate
and find foundations and roots in identity
and eventually bridge the gaps
born into this life our mothers and fathers telling us stories for maps.
Themes of life and love
the great adventures there of.