Always, always, more.
Can always;
do more.

the heart of hearts lets me enter once more
to lay prostrate in a silence filled with love
life takes me on a journey whilst I stay still
all things are beauty forged and freedom calls
and swirls and lifts and holds and shrieks -
with joy like a child in the fullness of its right-
to be and to be loved and adoring and adored
yes my child this song is for you always always

the power of your prayer lies in the belief that someone is listening

Delivered beyond the ever present moment
the invisible path silently waits.

And you finding yourself there
but for a moments breath travel on.

Always away yonder, away yonder
and away yonder yet again.

Come now,
you are not dead yet.

Nature will play its tunes within your heart
if you would but listen, said the wind,
as it rushed on by.

loves depths cannot be fully reached
here, now,
in the mind and heart of a finite creature
but it can be slowly fathomed
deeper and deeper

why do  hearts break
and eyes weep?

we carry each other
take all others
in each decision made

what poor soul has to depend on the admiration of those they have fooled, in order to feel ok about their own sense of being?

a valley of flowers
wooded hills
bird song
big skies
a beautiful ocean
sounds of children
conjuring words
a magic wand.

time written down deep into your skin
all the roads you journeyed
the brief resting on your laurels
all the laughter at yourself
tears that stung and relieved pain
silence, unfathomed, you entered alone
inner voice of the child, free to be
freed to be who you are, a maker of words.

did Jesus sing
do handstands
run and jump
cup a butterfly
stroke a dog
comb his hair
wear the latest
do cartwheels
tell jokes
write a poem

To right my wrongs
bring peace to conflict

to forgive and heal
took a man called Jesus

All the words ever uttered sail on the winds
where a sentence can change the lives of the race
history unwilling to disappear follows close on the footsteps
of all footsteps taken to drag Mankind to a higher plane
carrying the weight of generations gone
and generations yet to come, a Man can get lost, out there.

The Sun comes down and shares my table
seeks the company of a fragile creature
lends some warmth to cold skin, a reptile
stretched out sunbathing across the window.
A child standing in the playground, watching,
as the morning Sun rises above the tree line
magical mystery indelibly branded onto the heart.
And all at once the transportation is over
the Sun has moved higher, out the reach,
way beyond a man-child's mind and fingers.

We all are buskers, here
this street
full of paper gravestones
written reminders to,
to go one better
strive to catch the ear
of a Mankind on the move.

thought nudges go East
where daystar rises

light enveloped mind
enlightened, darkness gone

candle flame guttering
poured on gasoline

a Man reveals Divine
and minds entwined in light.

being out in the dark
used to be great
we played in miles
of nights and shadow
boys at their games
seemed to go on forever
even looking back
I am grateful
those boyhood nights
  boy no more
a mans memories

words for signage
gentleness for depth
silence for listening
a mantra for love.

stumbling around is my natural state
but pride tells lies
so I will tell the truth
we met within incomprehensible
so its a case of
do we travel together?
and if so how far?
taking into account I have absolutely
no intention to change course
just to satisfy a mapped life.

it is a marvel in mind, memory, and daily living
this path, this road, this beginning and end,
this everything, and so much more than imagined,
truly a marvel in eyes filled with life's goodness.

I could write for the Olympics
but as to winning a medal
I leave that for the professionals.

geometric mind working out its place within tide and time
chalking shapes and numerals to peek into the eternal
a lighted candle casting stretching shadows flickering
across the black Universe seen with a wondering minds eye
knowing God be a mathematic genius beyond all knowing.

no one much cares for a dead fly
and no one flinches when one is swatted

killing it would seem has an acceptance
even more, a face of respectability.

physical mixing of juices
can have the most
amazing outcomes
and its all chemistry
in the lab of the body

No such thing as hero
all life is heroic
living is monumental

I could never eat the Amazon cuisine;
fried spiders and cooked monkeys;
God tells me in my heart;
my son, believe me you would

there is a burning forest
ah but its so far away

there is a burning building
and its our planet Earth

the banishment of hatred and revenge
from the heart of all mankind
-a slow burn in the furnace of love.

hamstrung, flawed
Mankind
tries
to
do
the
right
thing
and
sometimes
succeeds­.

down the escalator into a world of footfall echoes
the smell and noise of trains
a whoosh of stale air
curvature of advertisement filled walls
a black hole either end of the platform
the edge where down below death crackles along the rail
underground experiences live on in a memory's scarred tissue.

simplicity and frankness
no emotional storm

set me level
despite all my falls

heal every wound
that so I may love all the more

free me from all delusion
and to always speak the truth.

May all those now departed this mortal life
whosoever did me wrong, whosoever they may be
Rest in peace, and may those souls whom I had interaction with in this mortal life that I caused any pain
likewise rest in peace
and also just as important may all my memories of all said folk, also rest in peace.
Amen.

Grant childlike freedom
a heart made for love.

The freedom of imagination
love that forever gives out.
Amen

granting success to the work of our hands
from beyond the grave; often comes in disguise.

let your Amen
endorse your life
short or long
hard or easy.

I beg love to transform all my darkness to light
that I may be fully its servant
- lost to all knowing except assurance I am not deluded
so be it, Amen.

There is a diagnosis where the constant need to write is one of the major symptoms
- a mental illness
I do not mind if this is true of myself
as long as I am not being a constant stalker, like some....

Fruit of labour swollen ripe
casting seeds into futures life

universal kindred soul
whom you will never meet
on this side of eternities road

plucking ancient rooted love
planted long ago, far away
sweet and juicy to the taste

all that labour
all that love
free gratis,,, Amen to that.

willingly chained to love
a mere creatures strength
reinforced with forged iron.

guns are pulled-out
America-
You and your guns
you and your guns

Late night into an ever dawning morn
the FBI files play out on the screen
America is so big, and its criminals so scary
I would be lost there, in many ways.
Here on our small island surrounded by the sea
we enjoy a safety, criminals know they get caught, every time.
so they stay away for the most part
and I suppose America is so vast its crime is understandable, to a degree.
Maybe I should watch the Waltons, even things up.

Only America plays out on the movie screen
Cowboys and Indians
Here we just had the wealthy connected
and those who were not
Our heroes are supposed to be cast in stone
Nelson, the battle of Trafalgar, and back further the tribe led by Buddica
a woman warrior cast in bronze, in the middle of London
who beat the Roman army after they ***** her daughters
Riding a chariot, a symbol for all the repressed
and now forgotten, like the American Indians

when a black poet
blames a whiteness
for her troubles
then skin deep has won

in a society swamped with guns
what is surprising is that more tragedies
and not less occur year on year.

some want to be cosseted
look the other way
while billionaires run their lives

America has a lot to say to the rest of the World
so naturally the rest of the World has a lot to say to America.
Much of the exchange is cordial, but it would be false if it was all rosy, and if the rest of the World did not care what happens to America then they would be disregarding their own futures.

the sea charms all who come near
takes you away, a stranger to all
and stranger still to your very self.
lost to all known ways of thought
forever contemplating on what is
and what is not, a mermaids love.

In the depths of space
there is a World called Earth ( by its Earthlings )
going round a star at the centre of a galaxy
where Man made from the dust and rock
is busy inventing killing machines
and training Earthlings to use them on each other.

Please advise.


Pass them by.