Help me Daddy
why have you forsaken me?

Our Daddy shared with Jesu
why have you forsaken me?

to write but more than this ABC
to rearrange. see underneath,
to go underground, overground
to grow a stalk from a womb
woman you are the Universe
giving succour to stars and moons
not least your child a babe born
in a manger, all poor children
all put down women, all birth
all life all wronged all rights
all everything all silence, all
this ABC to communicate what
all know to be true, and truth.

My 9 year old Niece tells me she set light to her classmates ( not literally she adds, as if I was too old to understand) Telling them that this uncle of hers has a beard like Santa. We never met until she was 7, owing to the distance we live apart. I am glad she is intelligent enough to get a laugh out her classmates at my beards expense, and hey Santa is not that bad a comparison, I could think of a whole lot worse.

they say everything is a mathematical equation
poetry even is a numbered metre
I wonder if our two sums, the sum of you, and the sum of me
make for a beautiful equals =

you can talk your way into a corner
or free yourself to sing

its all up to you poet
choices, choices

I want to share beauty
let the beautiful reign

the beauty of nature
and the beauty of the Human spirit

so here goes nothing
you are the most amazing creature

living amongst other amazing creatures
and its a beautiful miracle on a grand scale.

Poets need poets
its self-evident
a beautiful truth.

Each day you rise from out the dust from which you were fashioned
up out the material that's hemming in your soul, to stand upright in a world where gravity is constantly keeping you safe, and a captive all at once, to end your day losing the battle, a bed to sleep in, a bed to die in, a bed to await your resurrection.

I have never been down this part of the road
it looks so familiar, a lot like yesterday,
but it is unique and I am too.
So it makes the travelling a little mysterious
even though I am tempted to fall into a boring rut
nothing could in fact be further from the truth.
I am easily deceived and easily pleased all at once
the computations are endless and I do not mind at all
just so long at the end of day I have a bed to dream in.

a bell tolls
doors open
we see spaces
our juices chemical signs
leading onward
death awaits each new day.

we are the ultimate magic trick
conjured from nothing
the only mistake was giving us free will.

she was a girl from Texas
wearing a Stetson and boots
and not much else
a six gun on her hip
and cigar between her teeth
oil ran through her veins
and her mind was full of sand
but my how I loved her
that Texan called Aberline.

a best guess is close as it gets sometimes
and a little faith in others goodness
to help make it to your destination
can get you the whole way there.

its in the deep down of things
the abiding mystery of love
waits to be found
and being found delights
delights to be found.

Today is due our first named storm
the forecasters have decided to follow America

"Abigale" will arrive sometime this afternoon
an Amber warning has been issued

I wonder just how scary she will be
how wild, how exhilarating

I look forward to meeting her on the doorstep
but I won't be inviting her in.

Blue sky here means blue sea too
living in a big blue bubble ...you could say

Today the sky stands still
a big blue statement
deeper than all thought
- deeper than all oceans

to tap a superpower
you need not be a super hero

what could be said
when all almost has been said
dig deep and deeper
The heart and mind depths
solid rock was standing on
washed away gone to some other place
Spilled out and vomited until it bled out
Order the take away be grateful
the taxi driver offers new philosophies
While you give the fare
and a bigger than generous tip

a tax on your thoughts
a tarriff hard to enforce
a future in flux
a billionaires paradise
a psycopath in charge
a man whose thought is me me me me me
and me.

gone way far beyond any understanding
a billion dollars filled up my house
no room left to live in
I started to spend
to make room

I died way before
I got comfortable

leaking songs at dreamtime
a bird responds indignant
'you stole that from me, last night'.

like a bird a poet sings from their heart sitting atop their favourite perch
no one else claims this perch, they cannot for its always occupied.

small things make big differences
sometimes immediate
always in the long term

Taking sips of fresh air
Sun splashes on the skin
mind heavy with searching
eyes unseeing their way
a bird sings for love.

the day dolls out her feed
-a little sunshine
a bird song
a few words to try and explain

jump in and out of others dreams everyday you live
be sure you have been a nightmare, or two, that's for sure
even, or especially when at your most sincere
and never forget you can never live up to anybody's dream
you are not a dream,, maybe at the very most, a bit dreamy

the wind has blown all night
an express train going past
thundering on ghostly tracks
threatening to crash through-
the bedroom window.

to make a noise
pleasant not grating

something beautiful
despite all the uglyness

crispy crackled wispy voice
things unseen and untoward
a black cat with caught rat
many are that witches brew

time, the consuming beast
always ravenous;
a black hole on your mantlepiece

instant replay
de ja vu
splitting the atom

a blade of grass
knows the secret to the Universe

a baby cries for milk
star dust
from the Milky Way

on the edges of reason
animals are becoming extinct

its normal for the road to wind
for you to set out from an unintended start

and you probably had your field of dreams
in your heart from a very early age

to sit within the wonder of life
and desire to be taken out of yourself

this the beginning of contemplation
where your smallness is made manifest

and the sheer magnitude of a blade of grass
can invoke a single mindedness to be known.

The sea is a blue mirror
imitating the sky

nothing moves outside
still as a nun at prayer

On all distant horizons
battles roar

And soon to sweep us up
a blast of winter snow.

without the divine help
the blessing

you would be reading
nothing

nothing would reach you
nothing set you free

needs held in common

a poet needs must

sing and sing
and sing

and sing
again.

Blessings and curses
fine lines in-between.

A blink of the eye
old and dying.

Some light-heartedness
a few deep thoughts.

We meet and part
to meet again.

A blessing
and a curse.

A blind date with your muse
waiting in anticipation
nervous as hell.

Juggling so much stuff
while keeping balanced
on a massive circus ball
which just keeps on and
on spinning. I marvel at
lovers finding the time
to fall and stay in love
I can see, now, where
vows are oh so needful.

a blue ball surrounded by black
speckled with bonfires and barbecues
one hell of a party 'out there'

Dreamtime whirrs through starlight
faces from the past loom large
forgotten folk and folk grown
grown beyond knowing anymore.
The stars never seem to change
but of course they do
they shine forever out of reach-
a blur in your eyes, a blur in your mind
where everything is blurry in the end.

sometimes you become a bit like a teacher
reading through the dailies,
"that one deserves a tick"
(or a bolt of lightening)

Nothing compares to anything else
- all is unique
And you need generosity to see it.

Everything has its own place
- a space to be in

What is occupying your mind?
- and will you give me shelter?
- a compassionate oneness?

A bonding of spirits, brief
- with eternal consequences.

the jaunty flight of a Butterfly
dip and dive of the Swallow
lines of poetry in the air
the silent weaving of love
remembered around a winters fire
the storyteller, the bard,
a book of verse, a poets songs.

there is a sit down place
where all have sat before
a choice to stay or go

some have sat here
since first times

there is a sit down place
where all is all
see sit down place

an animal never commits an injustice
-a dog
-a cat
they are true to their nature, and that is quite a lot

what of Man?

the slaver?
the one with all the modern ideas?
the one with the white skin?

The Sun comes down to share my table
cheese, apple, sausage, nuts, bread, wine
Daystar spreads sunshine across my hands
-in and across my food, my heart
- a borrowed fire.

The Man threatens with death a possible solution
gathers an army armed and ready
While the peacemaker reminds that 'patience is action'
and often the very best of paths to travel.

some words are best swallowed
held back behind a veil of calm
aborted from the light of day.

I ask the prayers of the little ones
the ones closest to the heart of love
especially the souls, like all others
bestowed at conception.... and
ripped from their mothers womb.

Next week royalty is coming to our Island
just up the road a stones throw to the military cemetery
men and lorry loads of seating and marquees
have trundled past the window these past weeks.
Everyone received an invitation I am told
I must have slung it in the bin
with all the other bin stuff that comes through the letterbox.
The royals will arrive by way of helicopter
everyone else will have to catch the ferry, make of that what you will.
It will be broadcast on BBC television on Tuesday, if I have got it right.
Of course the intrigue will get to me too much for me not to tune in.
Its all to do with the Battle Of Jutland, or more correctly all those that lost their lives there. I wonder what all those young men were thinking when they realised that they were about to die.