With a cat on his shoulder
A growth in the prostate older
Greying his moustache bolder
The guitar man is dying.
What Weasel Ripped My Flesh
When I read of Frank’s cancer
The day dimmed on my Sofa
I remembered Dog Breath Variations
Guided senses like missiles
Of seemingly abstract words
Chords lancing the messages
Creating legends like Big Leg Emma.
Maybe the end of Joe’s Garage saga
Will see Frank argue with cancer
The wordsmith will smile moustache
Intact living in the pain with panache.
Hey there, I am living in a jar
Does that mean we are all far
Away in some other cupboard
In the dark of the closed door?
Try as I might I cannot prise
It open not without some aid
Try as I might I look for some
But I can see help it was not made
For me – in abject sadness
I put aside all notions of escape
I continue to live inside this jar
I can’t remember how I came here!
try as I might the memory has disappeared
It’s been scratched from inside my soul
I lean upon the glass looking outwards
Is this where I pray for a change
Have I been waiting for a cue or what?
I am on my knees, hands clasped
Wishing I was no longer imprisoned
Inside my own head where splinters grow
From past smashed glass, why don’t they go?
I don’t want them they slow my progress
They poison my new life, it is not necessary
Nor wanted, nor needed nor desired by me.
Living in a jar is no picnic
It destroys love before it is born
And sucks my life until I am worn.
Is this compulsory punishment
For something I have not even done?
No matter for I have punished myself
Roughly about a thousand times over.
I am not satisfied unless I inflict pain
Upon myself in every possible way
I take out my heart and slice it into thin
Pieces and feed it to the birds and fishes,
I take out my brain and chop it into squares
Give them to the local dogs home,
I take my eyes and squash them.
For I no longer need any of these parts
Living in a jar.
Living in a jar, I can’t talk to anyone
And they can’t hear me anyway,
There is no phone nor microphone
Anyway what can I say living the way I do
Away from everyone and everything
If I could speak what would I talk about?
How I hate living in a jar, no doubt!
Sitting at home listening to old records
The almighty thunder gathering Strength
But reggae is soothin’
The dancin’ ‘n’ groovin’
Is slidin’ yo’ back on down
Yo’ face the music
‘n’ beat hits you right
Selecting a song listening to old records
The crashing storm nears, at lengths
The Blues ‘n’ truckin’ cool
Because da rhythm is blue
No cotton pickin’ dude
Is gonna grab my blues
Unless the beat gets you right
Collecting old tunes listening to old records
The clattering thunderclaps are almost overhead
The Jazz picks up ‘n’ slides ‘n’ weaves
Sax, trumpet, drums and reeds
You feeling hot, you gotta trot
The sax is blowin’ its nose
Got no time to give a pose
Because the beat gone done it right.
Out of all the mire, toes in the water listening
What did I hear, what could I hear?
The soft splashing around my cold feet
The thoughts swimming around my brain
My heartbeats as they stutter again and again,
The songs of leaves cascading to the ground
Sensible sounds are here? Now have I found
A voice that was meant to give a message,
Now listen, have I come this way before?
Because it all seems so familiar to me
Standing here motionless on the shore
I have seen this in my meditations
White brick houses shining in brilliance
Looking like boxed iridescence
Captured sunlight playing with shadows
As I listen for a voice.
Listening in the quiet rains
soft songs they play on the leaves of trees
the bottoms of my trouser legs moisten
the thoughts in my head now hasten
to bring forth some meanings to sharing,
I can’t be doing so as there’s no one here.
Only me listening – along with the birds flying
And me – waiting for a voice to come.
Along with the creatures frantically scampering,
My blood rushes along my veins senselessly,
There is the sky looking down on humanity
As it scatters logic to all the four winds
Clouds scurrying back and forth trying to hide
The embarrassment of being human – listening,
Not knowing for what I am expecting,
From a voice I have never heard before.
The people I know are not in the colours of waves
Nor do anyone of them want to stand near this edge
Where water and sand collide softly as if not caring.
There is a transcendent moment hanging in the air
Beyond the range of normal or physical experience.
I cannot let it remain there I need to take a chance,
So I listen out for the word I hope will complete me
From a voice strange but so near so clear completely.
A Killer dog prowls around inside my head
Where there should be relaxation there instead.
It preys upon the unsuspecting beating heart,
Its reason is only to tear me almost apart.
It growls its menacing message each time
I take myself off guard, thinking that I’m
Safe but the teeth of this animal deeply sink
into my soul as it devours what I think.
The only protection that I have found to really work
Is to face away from it, ignore it as the dog lurks
In the shadows of my mind, salivating grossness;
Keep your distance brute, I want no more closeness.
For you are rank and the stench of your pack sickens
Get far away from me! Especially as the night time thickens.
The night creates its own very black shapeless shadows.
I walk away from the predator, I will not, again, go so low.
Like the laws of gravity the law of karma is balance;
Should I inflict pain upon another can I expect pain in return?
But we all try to avoid pain where possible and we earn
The strength to be good to others, but not in hope of reward.
Karma rewards and punishes in its own gentle way.
I try to spread as much love as I can for its own sake
And the balance of karma brings love to me, I take
This to be lessons learned as we go blithely through life.
Like the laws of Karma the law of spirit is ingrained
Into our minds as it seeks a basis from which to launch
The search for the meaning behind the spirit vibrations.
Unexpected visions and messages come during meditations.
Dreams – but how much notice do we take of what we see
The mistake is to let the messages pass without a comment
For Karma will kick in and make us regret our neglect,
Whether we feel it is not right or maybe we feel is correct.
Like the laws of spirit the laws of love of all that we see
Is buried deep in our hearts, there are chances of release,
As we are human we don’t always notice the occasion
Where love can be the spreader of the strongest compassion.
Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling
what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin.
It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace
and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.
A dark shadow has cast its spell over my life,
It has sapped the very essence of who I really am
It cuts slices off my heart, which has been damned.
My darkened days stretching back many years
The sting in my eyes is caused by many tears.
I’ve had my heart wrenched cruelly from my chest
And it’s like a thousand fierce words that cannot jest.
The agony of living in a barren almost living cage
Takes its toll, takes my life, takes a whole age!
As it strips a love down, until all I feel is a rage.
Emptiness replaced my expectant loving side
It enthusiastically entertained my suicide.
You take a broken union and then look inside
And if you see the puss caused by jealousy
You know that all you ever needed has gone bad.
There is the death stench that comes with jealousy,
It has no room for affection, kindness, caring or sex
It despises feelings, it chops me up like an axe.
Leaving me bleeding away the love I once had
Replacing hope with fear, it has made me feel sad.
The years when jealousy reigned over our lives
Have been too many, like enduring many sharp knives;
Cutting into the softest parts of my personality,
Changing forever my character, distorting my reality,
Digging a ditch into which my self-belief was thrown.
In places like the Sea of Galilee
When men were fishing for their lives
A stranger would approach happily
To turn them away from their knives.
In the Lebanon, the deserts of the Sudan
The message of encroaching poverty
Would sink into the hearts or every person
- And the bombs would rain heavily.
On the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates
The Dealers were hacking put their trade
The people were fading, the tanks teased
Before they deployed another senseless raid.
In the town of Nazareth a carpenter spoke
His words were light, his eyes were bright
For he only wanted to speak the truth –
Better a slap in the face than a bullet in the night.
At Calvary the Roman oppressors slew his body
Their ignorance was supreme, their laws blind
The messenger lives on today happily
In the collective heart – the everyone mind.
I don’t understand adult wickedness
Troubled violent people in a mess
There is no scope for a clear reason
To exist within or near their circle
The terror they bring, what on Earth
Is their meaning? The evil intention
Scares their victims to shreds
Blood runs cold, blood runs freely
When the violence begins bluntly
Pressing on a vulnerable body
What hatred in their hearts they hold
Sinking to the gutter.
Seeking only the power
To control to terrify to kill
Leaving deep scars on hearts
That are not ever meant to heal
Confusion hurt pain
That lasts for months, years
Why do such as these hate this way
Ignoring the consequence
Flirting with a prison sentence.
Flinging fists, strangleholds
Pinning down their victims
Scum is not even a suitable name
For the attackers have no shame.
These have no feelings, what game
Are they intending to play?
Stalking their victims each and every day,
Menacing those who were made scared.
I am not cut from the same cloth
I have no violent intent to others
My offerings are tenderness and care,
I could never strike someone weaker.
It is cowardly to hurt a child or woman
With fists, big hands, kicking,
I vomit at the sight of them
Harming less strong and abled victims
Every day I hear of husband anger
Turn to merciless cold danger
The child beaters are everywhere
Like a curse that turns sour our very air
Regular slaps, put downs, insults, punches
Clearly such revolting men and women
Have no love for their spouse or children
Have no real capacity to love
Only themselves to distraction
The evilness to seek satisfaction
Through dishing out pain and humiliation
They are worse than wild beasts,
Depraved souls seeking subjugation
I don’t lower the standing of humans
To thinking perpetrators of violence
Are anything other than gutter trash
Why do such people hate this way?
I don’t understand the where for or harm
Nor do I waste my time wondering why
What happened to their humanity
They despise goodness and decency
Their abuse and threats met only
By the weight of the law occasionally
These low life escape retribution
Which would be more satisfactory
More fitting to match their savagery.
From where does my anger come
Is there a latent nest of confusion
Settled within me waiting to emerge
When I learn of people’s violent urge.
Is it because someone has been angry at me
Or have I witnessed too much pain really
Caused by violence to vulnerability
Towards men women and children
Too weak to resist superior strength.
For decades I have actively protested
Set up support for victims of bullying
For really people violence is bullying.
Bullies can only be satisfied by the pain
They inflict on their weaker targets
Such is their grim satisfaction and yet
They have no shortage of victims
To speak to people who were bullied
Maybe in childhood through neglect
Or active violence, threats, put downs
By adults parents teachers clowns
Maybe attacks by partners spouses
Those you thought you could trust
The destruction is almost complete
The scars from the pain go deep
Why do such people hate this way?
My meagre words of empathy
Seem so pathetic as I listen keenly
To those who have received violence
Those gratified by punching, the consequence
They are wilfully blind towards.
Not a moment of feeling inwards
Occurs to sociopathic man or woman
They have no love towards another
Only contempt hatred disdain no other.
The idea of a killer who likes the feel of blood
Oozing between their savage fingers
Is fascinated and gains a carnal pleasure
Watching their victim fading from life
Wanting this control using their knife.
My disgust towards the perpetrators
Sometimes is raw indignation
Absent of sympathy or tolerance
Such violence forced upon weaker souls
Penetrates my heart leaving holes
That need the healing of the universe
Revenge towards the bully is tempered
By thinking of repercussions
Towards the victims of assault and battery
No need to bring the weak more misery.
Childhood traumas caused by hitting
Last a person all their life through
It lives within them always, it is true
Abusers, child haters, wife beaters, bombers
Priests of yore, present day politicians,
Will find no understanding within me
My instinct is to be between victim and bully
Is profound it will move me to action
To provide in some small way protection.
Whether Israeli bombing of innocent children
Or domestic torturing of victims
My ire will grow quickly, towards them
The givers of violence I show no kindness
They would not understand niceness
For they spit upon those they harm
They despise those people they hurt
They try to squash them into the dirt
For some there is no escape, not today.
Why do such people hate this way?
We say current affairs but how current do you want to be?
The last 24 Hours or the last 50 odd years watching steadily
The current affairs unfold in places like Gaza, Rafah
Where the children’s bodies were set alight inside
Their own tents hiding from the firebombs of Israel.
Where the orders were given to kill the children
Watched in horror by millions on TikTok as it happened.
Do we want a live Genocide to be the current affairs?
We say current but many affairs are decades in history
Like the greed of the Monarchy exposed last Friday on TV
By Dispatches who showed the contempt of the King
As he pocketed millions in rent from Hospitals Schools
In the Duchy of Cornwall, charging the Armed forces
Millions in rent – the current affairs surrounding his son
William who rents out substandard housing and upon
Our screens he speaks of the homelessness in the UK.
We see the current affairs of hypocrites liars murderers
Politicians psychopaths we don’t blink an eye though do we?
Current affairs are too horrendous for most people to see
So calmly they return to their football, celebs and idiocy.
Current affairs of the skies that are blotted out by chemicals
As an experiment for what, for who, by whom madness is all,
Presenting Current affairs is more important than the affairs
To slough people to thinking – well it’s always been this way.
DISSENTERS VOICE 