The name of love

The name of love was a lost name
Lost on the wave of the ocean
The name of love was everlasting
Burning like fire in a mist-cloud
You breathed a breath of life
And the cloud blew away
I looked into your eyes
And love came my way

The name of love was energy
Covered by clouds of a dark time
The name of love inspired dreams
That came to life like wings of fire
Your tears filled the countryside like rain
Your laughter filled the woodlands like the sun
All I know is I had no pain
That loving you was love and love was fun

You smiled your smile
You moved your moves
You danced your dance
In your little shoes

Though my heart was broken in two
It began to mend when I met you

The name of love

When I met you

The name of love

Look back through the smoke of battle

Look back through the smoke of battle
For the life that you once knew
Through the fire, the firearms rattle
For the place where you once grew
Were you then such happy folk
Was it a happy life?
Was it worth the sacrifice?
Now it’s gone up in smoke

The smoke of all those broken hearts
The fire of troubled lives
Where are those memories to find?
Buried in the dust of time

Look back through the smoke of war
Then just close the door

The coffee cup is a law

Look at the obvious, don’t play detective. The dream of the seashore is not the seashore, it is a dream.
I saw a policeman chasing after comic book characters thinking he had found reality. He couldn’t understand that no matter how many times he arrested the comic book characters the comic book freed them and the comic book story continued.
The world is covered in skin, if you peel away the skin the prison is turned upside down and shaken and everything falls out.
The obvious balloon can confuse people. They do not realise that the breath inside it is their own breath and if the balloon is eternal they being sentient will lose all of their breath to the balloon and the balloon will float away to join another galaxy.
Look at the obvious; reduce the world around you to a line drawing. Chase away the crows as they come to pick the meat from the bones, suddenly the bones are gone. Colours and shapes fall out of the sky and the pigment explodes.
It was not obvious until taking hold of your girl and kissing her a teacher came and scrubbed the chalkboard clean.
It was not obvious; you pour the cream of the law into your coffee cup. All is law, there are laws within laws. There are laws of a different making for a different purpose. The coffee cup is a law.
The bad heart is a law. The good heart is a law. They both disagree. The bad heart begins to cry: it is a law. The good heart begins to laugh: it is a law. Another law tries to decide between them. Now it becomes both the bad and the good law. Who can know where or how love lives in these good and bad laws? Love conquers all.
Look for the obvious, look for love.

My Travels around Rock Bottom

Sometimes I hit rock bottom, it is the deep part of the ocean. The water in the ocean is removed by a dream, what the dream commands happens in the many scenarios of the heart, it is not real. Rock bottom is imposed upon me by other people. Other people seem to guide me through a landscape of spider’s webs. They are spiders trying to herd their prey into deep water canyons. I must put the ocean back and swim to the surface. As I rise upon the surface I surface into an ancient Egyptian city centre. There are temples, palaces, pyramids and fragments of the sun are on sale in the market. There are men painting the image of a Pharaoh on the walls. Groups of wealthy families stop and stare at me and then become stone.

I seek not and I am left alone

I seek not and I am left alone
I let go because I am sad
The soul is in the blood and is made of self
Without a mother, the baby dies

Learn about what nature says to God through nature
The design of nature is the foundation of mankind
In the void, I hang like an autumn leaf
On this branch of Gods memory

If the best that everyone has to offer was allowed
Goodness like a blanket of snow would cover the earth

The scar

It came to me, my unreasonable fear
that I have been burdened with for many a year.
My fear of falling, the small white scar:
My fear of loving, why I’ve kept afar
The times I’ve started awake or couldn’t fall
asleep, to rest, to wake refreshed, loved. That’s not all
that scar I bear, I’ve born for many a year
it seems to have been there before I was here.
A small white scar upon my side
could it be the reason for why I’ve cried
like a waterfall for those psychological years of being alone
or the nightmares where my tongue turned to stone
and if I fell I would die and live again
born up from the ground
then repaired and the clock set to begin its cycle
ticking away in the silent darkness while Michael
sleeps as a tiny baby in the windowsill
and wakes and falls and falls and falls until
the clock stops in the murderous night
and the baby Michael bleeds light
the glass is removed from the shaking flesh
by strangers, fearful strangers who couldn’t care less.
But I fall into the street through a windowpane
and from a babies unconscious mind into an injured sleep did it drain
all information from my brain
of love, care, future, security, wiped out by the pain.
Then through the years of darkness hidden
the babies hurt, its cries hidden
its falling in and out of love
its falling down, its looking up alone
its jumping feet upon the imaginary ground
its crying, its forgetting, its knowledge woven with the sound
of breaking glass and falling and crashing down.
A fall that haunts and hurts and comes around
like the flash of a dragons tail upon my head
to startle me awake from the old lumpy bed
And who picked me up, who loved me on that day
and why did the shadow of the accident never go away?
When the war was five years over, peace was declared
Armistice came and went and people dared
to breathe the air freely and forget very nearly
that life resumed its path into the cold grey light

I have a small white scar caused by falling out of a window as a baby

The Inner Child has shrivelled

The inner child has shrivelled like a palmate leaf set on fire by the gardener and is burning within.
I feel it always, slow burn, tears dry when they should be wet; falling upon Loves shoulders.

Did you see an inner child running, running through the streets of London on fire?
Did you follow him back into the dark oracle cave womb of the inner mind heart dream?
Carrying Piccadilly’s Eros statue
Carrying Nelson’s column and the four lions
Carrying a sack full of Prince Albert’s on horseback
Carrying ancient Charing Cross
His family now, his friends are those stones
(Spit on the Elgin marbles, send them back to Homer’s cradle, replace them all with lead imitations of Cadbury Tins and comic book superheroes, for Britain had an empire too).

No, I didn’t see an inner child running through the streets of London in the winter rain chasing the shadows of dancing bears followed by winged white turtles in black Victorian suits.
No, I didn’t see an inner child who crossed himself with a sword and became an optical illusion of endless depth.
No, I didn’t see an inner child wander lost through the streets of London stealing the light from all the windows of town and feasting on them.
No, I didn’t see an inner child clinging to the tomb of the unknown orphaned mother of England.

In this prose-poem, the inner child is the core component of the adult, if society grows to be too centred on being grown-up can that society be whole.

A light – golden

A light – golden

A light – golden
more golden than the eye can detect
Follows you in, is one of you
Are more than you!

A light older than the earth
Its energy, pure, refined like love
Happiness, greater than time
Yet it is such a minor light, a little light

A feeling felt, sensed of this light
Of happiness, love bound up, glowing

Following you as you go in
But seems unseen by everyone
Invisible, is too much light to be seen by you
The secret part of light, the heat of light
Another light, a guiding fleck of light
I almost saw the form of a man
Much later, as I remember
The feeling the light had
Of guiding you, like two blind men
“At last, about time, got you here”
Not seeing it, presenting me to you

Then left or seemed to leave
Vanished into the night, hurrying away
Bowed out un-noticed by you

You stepped through the doorway
Full of yourselves, smiling professionally
You’d just about made it here not knowing why or how
And you walked in the door without a goodbye

A long-time empty in my mind

The tear has travelled a long way
A long way home to find
The heart was a long time empty
A long-time empty in my mind

Down the roads across the skies
Who knows how many times?
It lost its way and began again
A long-time empty in my mind

I miss the love I thought I knew
I miss the life I had
Like a train can lose its carriage
And rolls on feelings bad

So you cut a hole into my life
And staked me to the ground
There is no freedom in my heart
When you’re not around

The tear has travelled a long way
A long way home to the town
The shadow that I left behind
With the knife stuck in the ground

Insanity has grown in me

Insanity has grown in me
Dumb as dead dogs on broken stars

Someone filled my heart with bangers
Then closed the wound with a spiders thread

I sense my mind getting small and alone
A perpetual machine of inner war

The bit between my teeth pulls tight
I eat my screams and latch shut a smile

Is there any way back to the broken home
With the balsam of love and laughter

The broken home held together

For the sake of the children

 

 

 

How Could I Not Have Known?

Don't Lose Hope

I’ve just started reading Malcom Gladwell’s recent book “Talking to Strangers”. Amongst other things, this book looks in depth at how top agents can work for years beside other agents – with amazing reputations – only to discover that they’re really double agents.

How can this be? How could they be deceived?

Gladwell would argue that we shouldn’t be surprised. And here are some reasons he cites for this:

1.Gladwell says that we all function in a truth-default mode. That is, we are wired to believe that we’re hearing the truth. Hence, even if something seems to be a bit off, we generally quieten our apprehensive thoughts as we’re primed to believe the reassurances we get. This is simply a function of being a flawed human. A suspicion or some doubts will not be enough (and we may well be suspicious and be plagued by many doubts).

2. Indeed…

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The soap opera

The soap opera

You sit and watch the small screen every day
There is no memory of you or me there
Not in Coronation Street, not in East Enders.

And you religiously watch them day by day but beware
There is no memory of your life in them
And when you die they will carry on, cruelly not remembering you

I watched you hopping over the grass

I watched you happing over the grass
Flapping your ominous jet-black wings
There is bleak loneliness, do you wait for the night
A godlessness, do you dislike yourself
As if your first ancestor passed on sin to you
And for all of your generations, you had to represent death
Unloved bird, tragic creature, the fearful shadow of a dream.