It is so easy to judge But the thought never enters my mind I prefer to let my compassion take over Understanding and patience I find Is preferable, it leads to inner peace.
I believe that good hearts sometimes Choose poor methods or so it seems I pray that whatever is hurting gets better, All you need is a good progress to catch you, May the dark thoughts exit your mind.
Slay the over-thinking let its blood ooze Stab the doubt through the heart, lose The confusion that has dominated Be the phoenix rising up into light May peace, calmness fill your life.
Vintage illustration of from an 18th Century Chapbook. English Folklore, Mother Shipton, Ursula Southeil an English soothsayer and prophetess. Talking with a Witch, Devil and warlock flying brooms
I hear you say - are you a psychopath, am I a psychopath? You have trodden on my heart and scooped it out And taken it in your hands and thrown it all about. The jackboots you used upon me bruised my soul, You left marks upon me: but I wanted to be whole.
Destruction was the name of your game, I can tell You used and abused my soft heart and sent me to hell. You took advantage of my generous caring ways And gave me the blows, the shouts: I was so afraid, Fear is the very core of my being, for certain.
I know deep down your reasons were only trite excuses You used the chains of fear and took advantage You were to be king over my dented half truth life I was putty willingly in your pitiless grasp and fist You sent strange messengers to my brain covered in mist.
At first I could not hear the messages said It was like entering the garden of paradise, dead! You made me ask the question, what is the fucking point, This is no way to live, sure was no way to die, in joint Misunderstanding and mis-directed threats and cajoles.
I was used and abused by those who I thought loved me, I was so badly taken in by charmers in sheep’s clothing I was prey to the wolves, who wanted to eat my brain I bear the inner scars: I am not letting happen to me again I wish only to jump ship and take to the waves of uncertainty.
I want to find a desert island somewhere that would protect me I don’t need or deserve this kinda shit, no way, no how, I am my own person, I want to live well always and now I did not come into this world to be someone else’s plaything Nor do I want to be a punchbag, a skivvy or a slave to your whims.
Circumstances has been my keenest low companion, String me along, locked in chains, like carrion Lying in a field helpless with no way to ward off beaks and claws I was left lying in tears bewildered, but what is the cause? I cried a thousand rivers that flooded my perceptions.
I called out loud to God to relieve me, he was not listening! I battled the devils that railed horribly against me Through the tears I saw distorted faces I didn’t want to see. Through it all I hung in there determined to win, Against outrageous misfortune, at least I am still breathing.
They sallied forth in parallel lines Their bleating dying in the midnight air The escaping of men, marching in rigid time From domestic chores to be there,
Falklands bound with the crowing Of journalistic banter in their ears, The armies at last released into warring “Give ‘em a bloody nose and thick ear”
Smutty jokes and puking nervous boys Given their orders as if holidaying in Spain, The forces of politically directed toys Entering the final bloody stage.
Reputations intact Motivations react The Falklands folly Was a tale so sorry. The architect was woman bound Who only wanted her job returned. Survivors and veterans in fact The lonely widowed wives Counting out time Counting the lives Cursing the Merry Warring song.
Broken down hinges rusted drainpipes Squeaking iron wrought gates Like a greeting from a worn out mouth That had its ends filed down for style Dented car roof tops and buckled tailgates Reminiscent of theatre crowds lulled into crying Crying not remembering why.
Splashed puddles in wintery scene on Main Street Potholes, mangled man hole covers and sweaty feet Conjured from the RnB songs about loneliness Juke box humour trucks lazy cigarette eyes Trying a new liquor heaving the tightest thighs You just try and escape this scenario of lies, It gonna cost you, it could just cost your life.
In lonesome burger bars you have the dollar waltz Where flies are the only healthy ones You could catch most any kind of germs Just by breathing in what was once called air Crazy noises bars strip joints live sex revue All with same anthem where loneliness reigns Cut you a pretty picture don’t it it gonna cost you Cos you ain’t got no business pushing this pen.
Whilst drifting in an open boat across a mill pond lake I think of the invisibility of power something not to forsake.
Imagine the power that is all around you Remember your mind will know what to do.
Water is very powerful as well as being beautiful and mild It has tremendous power to destroy, flood as the sea it kills But it can trickle sparkle, be still, move harmlessly It has power to heal, it can relax you spiritually Water power has a Jekyll and Hyde personality As rivers in torrents sweep all in its path People respect its power, it’s anger and wrath Foolish are those that ignore the power of the sea Water’s duel role upon the Earth as creator of life It is the bringer of death, awesome, creates strife Better to be wary of it, better still keep to the streams.
Fire, the energy to destroy, causes harm, everything it blackens Left in its uncontrolled and dangerous state it will flatten Everything in its way – setting alight trees and plants Melting people, houses, speeds the decay. Though man has harnessed the power of fire To torch him, his food, towns, cities is the real power Of fire, that does nothing any good, its shower Of ashes, piles of dust leaving traces for all to see.
The wind has power beyond wild imagining For though we see the evidence of storms and gales The wind be invisible in most of its disguises Trees bend they whisper to each other, reeds will sing Birds will glide, float endlessly upon the thing But the breezes, although very much there Are invisible not revealing to the studious stare Fire and water are visible forms of power Everyone recognises but wind is it really there? For most of the time it is not visible even when near.
Gravity in all its majesty is the power that is present At all times but remains cloaked in mystery Keeping us all rooted to the Earth is it’s paramount element But its visibility does not show as though to prevent Too much investigation too much scientific probing Though the scientist alchemist show the existence Of its power by falling apples and parachutists There is no other proof of its whereabouts We believe there is such a thing because of experts sense “There is gravity. Behold the wonder of science!”
Spirit like gravity is all around us if you could perceive The existence of such not having scientific approval Means that doubters outweigh the enlightened But the enlightened are better for their understanding Spirit is invisible like gravity and is an essential force For it does make sense of when combined with love The love that derives from the mighty Universe It links our tiny minds to the stars in outer space It gives purpose to the querying human race Spirit is there as gravity is there as wind is there To ignore the dimension we call spirit God Life energy Is like ignoring the power of fire, wind water gravity.
Reaching down into our reserve pockets Not expecting to find a song.
Not listening, but only riding every sound we hear We sketch our plans We dig our graves We build our towers We hide our bodies We paint our pockets We write our songs.
Chanting down the history of our cells Who can really tell Where the rhythms started But have they yet stopped?
Reaching upwards pushing open the roof With our tongues Putting down the pens. Sharpening every page Not forgetting the colours
When filling in the empty spaces Knitting complicated laticed worked motifs We knit lace We emit silence We cage emotion We build walls We sketch agony We die slowly We live in our pockets.
Waiting for the worms to turn, Waiting in shadows and in shades Out of view but they are there It is not so much the feeling but the shadow They produce from within the shades. Out of shape and unwanted but made As if they have a concrete heart.
Ignore the light and consume the hate Lurking in doorways, sniggering quietly To themselves safe in their deception Waiting at the end of the street For the unsuspecting, the innocent No good walking in the middle of the road To avoid the attentions of the cruel mind.
Whatever happened to the sun, was it real An accident deliberately enacted for free Shadows of the mind creeping in on me. Did I see a movement behind the door What am I doing what am I waiting for Will the darkness be lifted to my applaud Smile at the shade, be the reason to live.
I am not going along in that direction What is the point? I attack the shades I disrupt the shadows with vim and vigour I shine the light; It must look bigger Cast out the alien hearted people Cut out the hidden heavy emotion Bring in the lighter soft satisfaction.
These sad rooms are sitting with me The seeds are scraps of paper For me the writing is nearly over Long tall shapeless the words be.
The skeleton rooms are growing dim I sit through the calm Whilst raging within My sweaty palms Are guiding me in I’m wanting the eyes forever
For long is the night dim is the day Like forgetting the only rhyme I had For you are the smile I’m not so gay You have a wooden life – not sad.
These rooms are sitting in calmness now My empty eyes are not glowing But please give me one last chance. As I sit within my knowing.
I can’t sit I have to move For the world is crazy without I need the anchor I need the wind But don’t ever let me out I see your skirts I am your blouse I want to get into your mind Don’t let me drift don’t let me dream Because I don’t want to be a friend.
The sun it drifts and the sky is mixed My mind expands with a whim You are in the midday of life And I can’t seem to ever win
Don’t smile, don’t cry, don’t even breathe For I am driving into the wind The hills are steep and I won’t keep Because the light is keeping me still Don’t cry, don’t speak For God’s sake don’t keep My ears are bursting again.
The sky is mean but the sun is clear I shan’t drift into you with a cloud I am the river the rain the speed So why don’t we write a rhythm I am so slow, slither I am on the go So please give a – come now! Go now! Please listen to me Come in come thither Please listen in Tune in to me is my hearing that keen The moon is dancing with us now.
Your voice your eyes Are in my device I want to keep them forever Please let me skate Please be my mate We shall sing the song together We shall sing the song together
A sadness so deep cuts trenches across the heart Like soldiers going over the top to do their part Falling as though wheat was being harvested Like leaves in puddles of mud blood and gore A gladness at escaping the “greatness” of war Widows and orphans lack the rejoicing When their heroes visit them no more They wait eagerly in case the news was too poor “Someone’s made a mistake – he’s not dead, I’ve heard him”.
Children huddle around the cooling fire and dream Of fields with daddy as a kite skipped over streams Of sailing matchstick yachts in puddles of rain Of being scolded by him never to do it again. But children’s play doesn’t compare when the fires rage Tanks bellow their death gifts like dragons of a bygone age Machine guns cackle metal chards into soft flesh Where is the honour the fields of battle are enmeshed With cries of agony, crying dying the odour of hell.
A sadness creeps in under the ribs nestles within For when death rips your stomach the devil is let in Searching for the remains of feeling and loving Pawing at your memories trying to inject the poison Widows live with a poverty of company and care They see the world has shrunk and don’t even dare To contemplate a time of laughter and gaiety “Someone’s shot my beloved – so save a bullet for me”.
In July we say the rains are here to stay But we know that by saying this We won’t really scare the sun away In adjusting the month to suit the weather We can’t really expect any other To take the place of the sun.
In July the warmth of knowing grows As the moon expands its outer glow Reaching as it does the hearts of gems Realising that months are sucked in to one day We don’t register time nor pain nor another way Where values are exchanged for priceless gifts.
In July all the disappointments evaporate Like lakes on the Serengeti plains Placing horseshoe necklaces around the necks of saints In pleasing the inner mirror, we have to select Our worst and best experiences Like choosing which brand of fun to purchase.
In July, cloudless skies obscure the stars and planets But in reality we know they are there unseen Like we know China exists even though we never visited In laughing with the cosmic joke We can applaud ourselves for our stupidity For choosing to be stupid, prevents us growing.
In July the sunbeams dance bravely inside my skull Animals and birds will sing their peculiar songs For all is rejoicing renewing and recycling We practice we are journeying with our ignorance Packed neatly inside our suitcase heads Looking for light for the meaning of this poem.
In July travelling is the ultimate goal For in the movement towards knowing We shall visit a million stars and none. In the daytime we will measure the darkness At night we’ll conquer the mystery of blackness And invitation of the negative unsmiling one.
In July we embrace the tall trees and love them For their energy is the sap of life itself But our ignorance we swipe them away In the knowing hours are we asleep Is the travelling more intense and very deep?
In July the balance reveals its rotten teeth Displaying that much work is needed anywhere But we are fledglings who look to their mother In using her guiding wing given a friendly peck We want to fly but we are impatient In trust and truth we will fly forever.
DISSENTERS VOICE 