Friday, 8 December 2017

Racing with the sun, caught again in the moment when the days collapse in on themselves, and this stuff just tripping off the tongue

An insistent and persistent chittering of unspun yarns and stories assimilated, disseminated and begun

All that stuff about a niche sat in circle unbegun and unended as you melted into the tiniest parts of yourself and were consumed by the universe

As so often in some silly human outfit, an out of work god, adorned in riddles dropping little truths which of course amount to nothing as does most verse

The spirit on fire burning the reserve tanks running on vapours but feeling great as the energy is consumed and converted

One hell of an over active mind that flaps the mouth and takes over the hands just to empty a few of these ever present words 

These ones that come on all fairy like spontaneous and combustible twisting even as they are formed

wanting to live to breathe to spread to other places and pages not likening my mind for further development 

Once incubated and hatched young fledglings fly the coop to make room for new thoughts or the absence on my path to contentment 

I try to cross the bridge, from knowledge to practice from insight to experience, avoiding the brambles  hurting the little ones in sharp entanglement

As I cross through the hedgerows and gorse into yet another sunset or set off in a smiling face and a crying heart let loose in a teardrop or captured by the reflection of light in a dew drop

I take a moment to relax let go this ever charging thing and just purely let it be and stop

Just a hungry freedom loving rebel on the floor thinking of the moon or his sweetheart

An unruly guerrilla hell bent on revolution and action, forced to stop and lay down arms prostrate on the matt

Stuck here pinning it to the page again trying to clear the smog and get to the meaning trapped between the mind and the page

The teachers of the past and present and the desire to be free of this awful suffering but more important the sadness at all of that and the rage

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

........Stopping......

When you are still --- except the movement of your pen
and all around you is movement
Well that is when

Words like this slide easily across the page tributaries of thought
A gentle ebbing flow, as the car and street lights glow
I doubt I'll make it rich this way
Yet the today - was another of those money can't buy days
The skyline from here incredible absolutely beautiful and indescribable
I sit stunned in awe and wonder of the unknowable
The maths in the breeze
The secret language of rustling leaves
and these words dropping from my pen
When I stop to write them.

Image result for meditation writing


Stopping for a drink and to drop ink.

We sat down to get a drink, a ice little place called the ebb and flow. It was an imaginary pop-up 
boutique bar just recently realised in a nearby meadow. After crossing to the mirage of miracle we climbed the stiles and steps to sit amongst the toadstools Crazy daisy carpets studded forget me-nots and a lining of bluebells a pace for poets and fools, We summoned provisions  from our rucksacks of many colours, tropical punches called Capri Sunnes Whilst the other customers mainly butterflies and swallows Supped on the sunlight and buttercups and the dew from the winds, Its funny the places you can find to have a good drink if you open you heart and your mind. But you have to dare to be still, to dream and to still imagine not just think 
There are clues left in stories and scattered on pages by stray ink so many castles and dragons in the sunsets and clouds, doorways to fae in the hedgerows If only you maintain your garden plant roses and let love and curiosity grow


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Loving warfare.

Haunted by a ghost appearing within the woodwork
A once friendly faces peering through the dark
I removed my armour, climbed off my steed and lay down my sword
I saw you wounded attempted to sooth you, heal you and I gave my word
That I'd be true and honest to you, no lies
Yet when you no longer liked my truth you feigned surprise
You took your dagger and went for my open back
Went from lover to savage and repeated attack
That was the best but too, it was the psychological warfare
The attacks on all aspects self and the indifferent stare
For this I was not prepared though I knew all was fair in love and war
I never expected you to try to hurt me so to make me so sore
I knew betrayal even though and the taste of pain

I implored you to stop be my ally or just let me be, Yet you persisted all the same
Then turned reality upside down said I started to attack you and it was all just some game
Truth is I'm sick of games and being played, I realise you had gone subtly insane
You've not had a drink of love for too long
Nor listened to the hearts strong song
You started turning on your friends and revered your enemies
Its the only reason I can see you'd repeatedly attack me
After I had tried and tried to help and heal you still drew in for more
So I'm sorry this time I see your hurt and broken but I won't help anymore
Learn to heal thyself and I shall light you a candle and wish you well
But I'm also burning sage and meditating and shall succumb no more to your spell
You wont pull upon my desire to help you lost my kinship
When you drilled holes in the hull of our shared ship

Image result for ghost woods painting

Words Nonsensical

A whimsical outburst struck across the page screaming to be heard.
Whirling about like dervishes a maddened herd
Swaggering and swearing as the come tumbling and weaving like drunk swines
Meandering everywhere with promiscuous meanings and poetic leanings
Of course when they lack purpose
they become free floating discourse
Dancing madly like harlequins a circus of parading psychedelic terrapins, gum drop bears spiralling stairs and rand unicorns shouting lies and truths to us
On and on they rumble tapping tunes and rhythm's into my skull. Whilst mu mind wanders and my tongue rambles


Tales of fairies of stormy knights of old gold and secrets secreted into streams and rocks. Travelling consciousness though tunnels and portals of fey covered by brambles
In copses of bluebells and there's seven hello and foxes with keys to pandoric boxes containing scented petals and magic metals. Seeing fractals and refracted patterns
Moonlit heroines fighting dragons and their own internal demons. Talking with the old gods the nose men and the ancient horsemen the planets Venus and Saturn
Of woodlice and field mice sage advice and ancient pterodactyls as we sit on the window sills trying to think. Remembering that our intentions shape what happens
The shifting states of inner emotions deep blue and fluid souls rolling around inside us deeper than any of the world's oceans


Whilst we're busy cooking with mad gypsy love healers unafraid to fight without gloves if needed. Dancing round the fire wired on our home brewed potions
We head for healing words thoughts and actions. Stacking up the positive resonance as we go about elucidating and illuminating the way
Friends and I trip between the realms meditating --- seeing visions. Hallucinating that we see clearly
Travelling along fuelled by moonlight, sun beams and colourful dreams we're learning to love non fearfully
What a mad place it is to be in this universe
I all this looking at one self. Can lead to abstract verse
As the self unravels
Meaning travels

Image result for mind blown painting

Dead Men's cigarettes.

Dead men's cigarettes and we choke on the bitter regrets of ourselves
Not sure if we breathe to live or because it is what we’ve always done
Ones been lit and the flame is glowing, each puff and the cancer is growing
But it feels good or necessary they got us young and cool when death seemed long away
The consequences for the future seemed so long away that it wouldn't matter
The smoke curls and we spin yarns we made a choice, we chose to do this
To make each inward breath a little burning death wish
An affront to our remarkable system our major pumps and motors greased in gunk
Yeah cos we so cool so film noire, so debonair we would pay to breathe in rancid air
(Poem written after coughing up red sputum suffering pneumonia and pleurisy in NHS respiratory ward).

Image result for death neil gaiman smoking

Sunday, 3 December 2017

The wearied giant slayer.

I want to tell you all my story. Of being a weary tiresome hero on an epic quest.
I've not yet finished, I've not yet won, but I'm trying my best I declare it by my actions I attest
I have come so far and fought so hard I have seen and done so much
That I no longer believe in certain things like my old concept of injustice or luck
You see I now see life is a test a quest, a challenge and that means you will find tribulations ever near
There's no legitimate reason to think the last time you wept was your last shed tear last doubt or fear
Pain misunderstanding and suffering are human companions ever here that is my understanding
Like your shadow they pursue you echoing the light within you one is dependent on the other
The leaf does not move without the breeze writing requires a blank sheet for the forms to cover
Just as crystal clear skies can suddenly be filled and disrupted by storm clouds and thunder and lightning
Just as suddenly they can be superceded by crystal clear calmness the heat removed by beautiful stillness and cool soulful calm that is lightening
The same as up there in the heavens with the shifting and changing, as here down on earth for us all
I have been on a long journey heading for freedom
I don't quest for heaven or treasure I already know I exist in a miraculous Kingdom
To even exist and draw breathe against all odds
Is better for me than any treasures of the God's

On this quest of mine I need to defeat the giants
I am the small one trying to defeat that which has left my people and lands sore
I've been studying and learnt many things about giants. We all know that they are big and oftentimes quite scary.
That they eat people up and spit out their bones, they get angry they break things and drive people from their homes
Yet us humans and giants we go way back they live in many of our words, part of our human history
Where people have gone wrong is to see giants as creature's in and of themselves this is a fatal mistake
We are the creators of giants they are real and made up of our own emotional landscape make no mistake
It is failing to acknowledge this, that is the way they get to be so big and scary and become impossible to really escape
So to defeat a giant is no easy task if you slay one it returns as it's part of you

There are two methods for those of us in the know
The best method is to befriend then make peace and reach understanding move around each other learn to co-exist
The second less successful method is to destroy the giant or leave where it lives remove it or you
But in this second way
Your liable to have giant issues in another day
See if giants are made from our minds and emotion
The only way to be rid of it is to be rid of self not a very clever notion
For no matter where you run to or you hide
You will always find yourself and your mind
Even if you reach the most distant parts of the earth and the deepest chasms within the sea land upon the untrod shores of furthest land
At best you will have travelled from the giants feet to its hands

So the journey I now take is much further than the reaches of outer space
I'm heading inwards nowadays to map out inner space
The longest journey as taken by the Sioux
Is to travel within oneself and fond the real you
That is where to find the heroes with all the keys
The weapons to destroy or the items to break the curses enchanted potions or golden bees
The thing that is needed to complete the quest
Is the you trapped inside you. Who could have guessed
The answers not in far away lands
It's always inside our own hands
The shortest distance between two points is always a straight line
So I've begun walking that way on this giant pacifying quest of mine
I'm walking the longest path I could find from my heart up to my mind
Seeking the balm to calm this raging behemoth. Whose been terrorising me and friends of mine
Now I know that I'm just as responsible for this heroes losing his sense of self importance as I get more reasonable with age
Travelling living and learning moving from place to place and page to page
I know now that the monsters I want sought to vanquish
Are but reflections of my own and others anguish
I'm listening closer to my heart beat and my own internal rhythm
Seeking answers from it. My own mantra, song, hymn or psalm to bust this prism and destructive prison
To calm the monsters both around me and within me to soothe them not quell them
Once I've reached calm stopped all this fighting. I will have no more quarrels with them
For when I can hold the calm and stillness I am partly them I just don't wish to manifest them
I know I'll be free from my illness
Escaping Maya siting in genuine realness
No longer shall I feel hunger, anger, hate, defensiveness or lust
I'll have peace and freedom held in trust I will be the hero just
For once I win this battle with my self's darker side
Light will be able to fill the space the dark void within and light can move in and reside
All around me can be restored and illuminated
Once my heart releases it's song and has resonated
For with Love's song
The curse is undone
Storm clouds will no longer blacken the skies
My friends no longer will let out hurt cries
The beasts of malice will be replaced by creatures of light angel faced
Peace will fill me and the world all around shall be blessed
So come here giant shake my hand
Let us stop terrorising the land
Our fighting is killing us
Let's have peace at last our quests will be fulfilled
There is room on earth for both of us.
Image result for giant brian froud