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.

this is the time when the seals come to shore to have their pups
the first gritter lorry has spread its salt on our roads
the cold is ever present getting colder by the hour
everything is waiting for Halloween and Christmas
the long dark winter months of battling the weather
cosy days and nights with extra blankets and hot water bottles
the feeling of comradeship with your enemies fighting blizzards
the slowing down when the ferries get cancelled due to big seas
and then the turning of the stars through a million miles of black dark.

silence can swallow the Universe
but when it comes to Man

that little wiggling tongue
has a mind all its own

noise is a spoken thunder
jabbering flesh

the smacking of lips
a hiss of the snake.

thinking of escape is a prisoners thought
and not all prisons look like prisons do
not all escapes are practical,
but your going to do it anyway
first chance you get, a mind made up
and already you know what freedom is.

A mind exists
who wants us all,
to be one;
A Mind of Love

a minute is a long time
hanging on the line
a real intrusion when
they play you music
you would never have picked
in a million years

death rides the time zones
forever counting the years
death claims your wrinkled skin
makes subtle daily marks
death is the constant companion
you either hate or love
death is par for the course
a mirage, a door.

empathy is its own personal encompassing unity
shared with all other persons and creatures in creation
love yourself in your absolute uniqueness forever
and forever look out for me and all others in love
the love that is real, love that in the mirror loves forever.

the elasticity of my skin
keeps score of the years

a mirror lies
silently stares

and I become a face
in the crowd.

there was the archetypal rebellion
all against love
angels gone bad
wanting control

and that's where it all started to go wrong
that's where poetry would be forged from rock
sweat on the brow, blistered minds, a missing word,
no permanent flow, unfinished songs.

Abandoned to a great leap of faith
the road can seem long

At times you question it all
have you made a mistake?

Maybe you have
but Love will turn it all to good account.

is it right to sing while others are being tortured and murdered?

I venture we sing for song sake
singing for those so cowed cannot sing for themselves
sing in defiance of oppression and oppressors
sing out against those who would have you controlled
sing because its your duty for the betterment of Mankind
sing that so those who are jailed for their belief or political choices
sing because that is the kind of world they hunger for.

the painful truth
a distant past

journey undertook
a trust in love

behind the fortress of teeth
-the serpent sleeps
with one eye always open

Filling your favourite glass
chewing your favourite flesh
listening to your favourite lies.

Here, ancient is woven into the land
from the Stone Age to Viking
First and Second World War
all and many more have left their mark.
Viking writings in Runes and twentieth century poets
have scattered their tongues across this Archipelago
scratched in stone and on paper, words across centuries.
I am classed as 'Ferrylouper' 'Incomer' 'White Settler'
by many locals, but the self same locals ancestors came here having sailed across the North Sea, Vikings raiding.
That so I do not mind being a 'phantom threat' after all I am a 'New Viking' who made the effort to get here and made the decision to stay, unlike the 'locals' who were pushed out of their mothers womb and have never gone anywhere since that momentous moment.
'

the understanding of popular
***

I have become blind

more blind
and lay in a bath

a creature in suds
soap

waiting for filled
fantasy

talk in accent
peak

I must fly
you must go

oh creature of dust
sing while you may
- a moments breath

teetering on the edge of never
and falling over
getting back up and willingly jumping
into the darkness
leaving behind what you can do without
you travel lightly
find yourself in a spacious place
called happiness

what price to pay at the end of day
for a moments silence
will you remember to be thankful?

a moments truth

and the path is set

sometimes you have to create your own forest
that so you can sit permanently peaceful
in a glade of your own choosing.

you cannot steal what's given freely
so if your conscience is not that enlightened
your poetry will ever be a montage of others.

pulsating heart
veins aglow

life coursing
through stars

a moon in the night
sings of lovers

At night, here, this small isle,
we ride the Milky Way
Star struck across the Sea.

Deep tide rolling the shore
Seaweed perfume salt-laden
A Moon lights our way.

We ran naked in our winter clothes
thinking all the while we were dressed.

When the juice hit our throats
we hid behind some leaves.

Lost in the dark forest.
Banished from the garden.

needs must be dealt with
in timely fashion

a trust in oneself
to tackle a days business

a mornings prayer offering
strengthening all your weakness

Soon all birds will be grounded
with all other non fliers
we will ride out the storm, together
each occupying their choice of perch
it will be dangerous to be caught in the open
all sea birds will abandon the sea
this one island oasis, a motel fully booked for days.

the Universe conspired long ago
determined for your good

and still she broods over you
a mother her chicks

Feet planted firmly within the great mother of flesh
come from deep deep out there in space
your mind transverse all the flesh hold

a freedom within a mothers great love
given to your soul, your mind, your heart.

A poet comes close
where the fire is too hot
for mortals touch.

a soul with heartbeats
otherworldly womb nested

held in gentle fluid
a mothers procreation

a time of helplessness
beginning a childs journey.

deep and depth
out of sight

singing into the void
an echo returning

no breath within
a mothers womb

was that my voice
whispering silence

A person can travel for decades on denial
but only they are ultimately fooled.

a talking bag of bones
a poets heart
and flesh that demands
death

being silent with all universal silence
united with far distance too great to measure

with the song of the Butterfly as her wings unfold
the sleep of a child laying down in warmth and safety

a silence the other side of creation before all came to be
deeper silence and deeper still a mystery called love.

acceptance of mystery
mystery of oneself
mystery of all others
the great mystery of all things
frees mind body and soul

Flights of the mind
a mystery of imagination

the power to travel
through walls

what is this love?
that loves so completely?
why does this love, love me?

me, unrestrained, excessive
fickle, changeable, insincere
me, a mystery to myself.

some smells
make you retch
a rotten egg
for instance

the dissolving of the person
death of the flesh
a goodbye to being

a turning away
an acceptance
a journey to make.

what small act can I make
to help change the course of history?

The way of the World is death
they believe in it, all who come from it.

But once no longer a worldly soul
believe in eternal life,

and the worldly
think them souls deluded, gone mad.

"just another animal
more ferocious than any other
with more ways to **** than can be counted"

haters and spiteful talkers
put downers and aggressors
full of personal agendas.

rivers of red
blue veined

dark pools
closed circuit

warm embrace
dead cold clotted

destined since conception
knit together in the womb
souls journey toward light
all along an ancient road.