At least I'm alive

I'm switched on,

Like a bomb, 

Ready to detonate,

my internal sensations are heightened,

Intrigue and fascination of life is my focus,

I'm wired.

Everything is internalised,

Everything is outward in and letting the eruption begin,

Every colour,

Every texture,

Every feeling,

Every thought,

I'm ready to explode.

I walk and it's quiet,

I slide open the door,

I enter,

The garden is an overload to my eyes, 

I've been here thousands of times,

It's my secret,

My altar, 

My mystery,

It conjures words I must express,

It has limits, but limitless,

It has boundaries, but is boundless,

It is small, but is monumental.

I touch a Salvia leaf, 

And take in its aroma,

Sweet and herbal,

I see the golden rose,

It's multiple shades of sunrise mesmerise my sight,

The glossy leaves of the Aralia are smooth and shine in the late summer sun.

I take my sandals off and ground my feet onto the sandstone tiles, 

I tip toe and feel the ache in my calf muscles,

I take a deep breathe and broaden my chest, 

Exhaling I soon slow down and think of life and of death,

I look up and see the vast expanse and questions enter my mind, many questions, and I question these questions,

What does it matter? I think.

The greatness of life is too much to take. 

I step back inside, boil some water in a kettle and make a coffee with honey and milk, and sip it.

My father enters my mind,

At least I'm alive, I think,

believe me,

Then my mind steps back and re-engages,

So is he.

I look out the window, the blinds up, I see the sun.

The day of light

I sip my coffee with listless lips, my hands weak and shaky, I weep for those who suffer, I weep for those who've gone,

I feel grief and for all I've done wrong, 

but, then I pray,

There is a plane that's heading for those who wait,

Beyond the sky, beyond the gate,

And on the way, I watch and wait,

For the final day.

War rages in my mind, in my home, in the streets,

It devours everything it eats, the poor man opens his hands and cries, the rich man brushes aside and sighs,

But, there's a plane that's heading for those who wait,

Beyond the sky, beyond the gate,

And on the way, I watch and wait,

For the final day,

It's buried in the cemeteries 

It's hidden in the darkest morning,

It's everywhere babies gently  sleep,

For the final day 

Won't creep, it will explode into your life with thunder and lightning to quell the noise and fighting!

With power at hand,

Feet resting upon his foes, and without a change of mind,

But, only to be kind,

He said "LET THERE BE LIGHT" and there was light, and the light was in sight!

There's a plane that's heading for those who wait,

Beyond the stars, beyond the gate,

And on the way, I watch and wait,

For the final day is here,

The day of

Light will come, 

Then there will be 

Freedom!

Freedom!

Freedom!

In response to the Queen's Funeral

People ought not be judged by title or status, wealth or power, but the most respected legacy must be one which touches your soul with personal kindness and sacrifice, with tears and great happiness, and most of all with love. Love brings peace to your mind, warmth to your heart and ease to your body. Let not pomp and pageantry, misguide you into thinking one is great, fore out of the  womb we all were born and to the earth we end up. The greatest of all people is the least of all. I shed a tear for any good person who passes, but none should be elevated above another to make another feel lesser. Poverty, squalor, hunger, suffering and turmoil is what many experience, yet to be given a title and to do it, this is no great honour. Is not a homeless person just as valid, is not a refuse collector doing worthy work, is not a poor artist or destitute poet not accomplished, are they not worthy of praise, like all good people are? When my father died, I said a speech, nobody could hear, as the microphone was deliberately switched off. When I choked up and cried when I spoke, did anyone care? It was a small funeral, modest, did anyone apart from my mother and I really appreciate the significance of this day? You may honour and submit, you may lower your head in honour, but I do not lower mine, only in grief and condolences do I show my respect. I lower my head to my father who brought me up, and to my mother also, but not to someone I have never met nor know. My parents who fed me and changed my nappies, who supported me and encouraged me through the rigours and challenges of life. Where were the trumpets and horses when I recovered from my mental breakdown, and when my father lost his mind with dementia? When my mother ran for her life? When my sister was to die from lack of oxygen and my brother unable to walk was carried to intensive care to save his life? This is not jealousy or bitterness, but rather it's what ought to be thought and what ought to praised, and what ought to be respected. When my God, who I have faith in, was born, not in great power but in humility and died on the tree did anyone but his mother, the apostles and few others weep and mourn. Not thousands, not millions. All people on the earth are the same, only God is above us, only Heaven, where we want to be brings us glory, and to get there we must follow a childlike and humble path, lowly in mind and with spirit. 

Kermit the frog 🐸

He was a tadpole of mine,

Stolen from school and made sublime,

From one in a hundred he was made a unique friend,

I did a bad thing, but created a Godsend,

In my garden he would grow,

What he knew I didn't know,

I fed him meat hung on a string,

Such satisfaction and reward he did bring,

From an ice-cream box, I made a pond in the earth,

I added stones and rocks, he never made a sound,

I saw him jump around and then one day he did something profound,

On his back I saw him, in the water of his home, 

I was sad, but this frog was saved,

I recognised him as a friend and companion, maybe it's what this frog craved,

He was looked after day by day,

Though he didn't have much to do or say,

To me, I did a great thing,

To him life I did bring,

And he gave back joy and a smile,

To a child that's going the extra mile!

We'll meet again I'm sure anyhow,

I have no doubt,

Somewhere somehow! 

Ingrained

To fathom a single lick of paint on a Cathedral ceiling, a bolt holding up a skyscraper,  a blade of grass on a football pitch, tiny, but is the solid fabric of the whole with a soul.

Like me, I'm ingrained, part of society, part of the planet Earth, part of the Universe, part of the Creators creation,

Truth is in my bones and the cells of my body.

At home, in the streets, in the parks and parades, in the towns and cities, as I walk and talk, workout or rest, I always do my best,

I can do anything I set my mind to with help from the Man above and His love!

Hairs on a dog,

Feathers on a bird,

Moistness on a frog, 

The following of a herd,

I tingle at details, adrenaline rushes from that which makes you what you are...

Where am I from? They ask.

From the earth, made by the hands of God, from a spark in the womb of my mother.

Where are you from? I say back!

Peckham? Portsmouth? Hollywood? Or the Outer Hebrides? Hawaii?! 

A Nightingale's home isn't a cage, it wants to be free to sing it's beautiful song!

Assumption and ignorance go hand in hand, because you don't know me until you know me!

I've got Angels watching out for me, kicking away those demons! With my prayers I'm bullet proof, with my head low and my eyes focussed I'm aware! Every single thing happens for a reason, that's where controlling your thoughts and actions is a preventative remedy for the soul!

My thoughts, my character, my point of view, my truth is my truth! 

That's my proof! That's my identity! Don't box me in, don't shove me in a corner, my ego doesn't prevail, so neither will yours! Who's got your back?! My back is gotten by The Creator and Sustainer of The entire Universe!! 

Like the leaves on an Olive tree or drops of water in the Red Sea,

They make it what it is, 

Just like Grapes make the vine,

You know a tree by its fruit, and those fruit don't fall far from the tree,

Select and savour those good fruit, for they are sweet and kind, so taste and see, and you will know who you are and who is for you! 

Freedom will come

I'm Locked in a cage

in the confines of my home,

people listen in as

I fight with my thoughts,

anger, resentment and worry,

people point the finger and talk with certainty about uncertain things and 

think they know me, when I don't even know them,

I rage inside,

my mind races,

I pace back and forth,

restless and unrelenting.

Then one day,

Someone unlocks my life,

Not with a key or with their hands,

But with a small word of encouragement,

A true word of love

and peace overwhelmed me,

Peace grew around my body like a vine, holding me firm and giving me strength,

The vine didn't hold me down, but like a friend it held me and helped me on my way to freedom.

With freedom anything is possible,

Anything which stems and has its roots in nourishing goodness,

The earth in which we walk has this goodness,

But only with unquenchable hope can everlasting shoots grow, 

It is hope soaring high into the clouds that gives ultimate freedom,

The Eagle is strong and tenacious, and grapples with talons clinging onto hope with vigour, 

But it is only with the Doves spirit of peace and stillness that hope lasts! 

The descended Dove displays inner strength, spiritual powers to tackle life's greatest warfare! 

Never give in to your demons!

Never let your enemies cloud your judgement,

Hold on to what is dear to you and resist to be tainted and tarnished with words that are not you and never were, 

Never let another stand in your ground,

But, by all means help those who need help,

Give with generosity,

Share your love with kindness,

Be a rock and a Dove,

Be the Lion and the Lamb,

Be a force of nature and a spiritual King!

Freedom will come,

With peace in your heart and hope gives rest to us all! 

Sacrifice

I open my book and read.

Is this it? Is it time? Can things get worse?

I'm scratching and crawling,

Itching and gnawing, gnashing my teeth with anger,

Irritation sending me up brittle scaffolding in this hot and dusty time. 

Beautiful sun rays gaze through the floating thick clouds, 

But, I can't appreciate this natural wonder right now,

I'm in a phase of pointing my finger and setting the world to rights,

Fighting fights I can't win,

There in my head, so I must let go and take in the magnificence of my surroundings, and throw these thoughts to the bin.

The shine, the reflections, the blaze of the sun, leaves synthesising light, they never lose their life is won. One in being alive and two in simplicity, three in nourishing the world and four in synchronicity. Synchronised better than any clock to the natural world, they know I'm there, they see me and hear me.

Trees experience trauma, but never complain, they only give and help us sustain, they see the light and grow towards it, exhaling life into our lungs and systems. Everything that has breath sings and calls the name of that which helps it grow, I believe. The flow of water to the roots, into the shoots, creates a perpetual motion and unending cyclical growth of hope.

Both beast and herb are precious, 

we eat them to live, 

all life is sacrifice,

With kindness and giving,

Without eachother there is no living.

The lamb was sacrificed and endured torture, 

The fish was caught and eaten,

The lion was tamed and became a friend,

The donkey was ridden on to the death,

And the horse led the way.

The thunder cloud is descended and the final olive branch is received,

The palm leaves are held high.

 

It is time!