Things my mum asked for today:
To be taken home
Toast
The toilet
To be left to die

Shielded behind Met. blue
I shoulder my silver numbers:
A Papa-Lima protector
On south-east London streets.

Riding shotgun all night
Dripping with closing time doner
Adolescent adrenaline
Fueling my every move.

I scan the heavy streets
On the prowl for grateful victims, 
Burying old delinquent doubt
Beneath my cool, blue strobe.
-
A wet behind the ears
Raring juvenile constable,
Abandoned and sanctioned
To bully and to bruise,
And then perhaps to scar
For good.

You cross the uncharted floor
And on the far side of your long hope
She takes your hand.

You fall into her slow dance
And smiling, you relax, close and warm
In her knowing arms.

You follow her graceful lead
And feel the eyes of the crowd around
And you dance on.

The lump in her throat
Grew
Beyond a chew in disguise
Became a tickle too much
A frog that fought back
Packed a punch with every hack
With each and every cough attack
Her breath caught at the back.

Til it was excised
Leaving her speechless -
But not lost for words.
If you listened she still screamed
Beneath the neat white dressing
Still eloquent to those who paid attention.

Braced against the dawn
Rising above purdah mist
My solitude breaks

Lifted by morning
My lit face turns so slowly
Longing for lost hush

Stirred, shaken, summoned
My cautious foot stretches out
Into the first light

If I May, if I might
Make this wish I wish tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Win this clear and outright.
And if I wake to find I didn’t
May I be bold and take the hint.

What kind of father do I truely want?
What type of dad will do?
Before we continue
And go further with this
What kind of father are you?

Will you save me from scrapes?
Hold tight to my hand
When I clearly want to walk free?
Will you wrap me in cotton
And keep hold of the reins
Or can I risk grazing my knees?

Will you keep me a child
Restricting my choice
Prevent me from breaking the rules?
Or give me the room
To make some mistakes
And maybe suffer a bruise?

Are you one of those fathers
Who is slow to excuse
My foolish brash acts of rebellion?
Or are you quick to forgive
Running arms open wide
Hitching your coat with abandon?

From what I hear from my friends
You really could be
The kind of father I need.
I'd like to see for myself
What it's like to be loved
And be lifted up from my knees.

He steps in and our expectations ascend above the deep frustration, the anticipation felt by all creation as we bound into our liberation.

He steps in and we step out of age old bonds into endowed freedom, responding to the answer to our tears and groans and tears with redemption born of our adoption as children into a family kingdom.

He steps in and our patient hope is emboldened by Spirit-inspired words beyond words reaching deepest down, heart from heart to the throne of thrones.

He steps in and so we stand with purpose in the divine presence, secure beside divine  representation.

He steps in and choses us for gracious generosity with ultimate justification against all criticism, against all condemnation.

We step up in his image, secured in love beyond separation.

We step up, more than conquerors.

There's nothing magical
About intentional
It's the beneficial
Not the permissible
Don't be mindful
Of the infinitesimal
But watch the frequency
Of every mouthful
The size you choose
For your morning bowl full
What you put
On a wholemeal bagel
And then you'll find you'll
Be more healthful.

(And I can see you
Get all emotional
And inspirational
About the preferable
honey-based
BBQ
Sauce.)

Reach to the back of the old,
Reach behind the boxes entrenched with dust,
Reach beyond the shelves of tarnished trophies,
Reach beneath the tarpaulin brittle with age.
Reach and ignore the stains of the years
Stretch, *****, seek
And your fingers will brush
Against unfamiliar, new-to-you gems.
Reach and from unexplored corners
Reveal new treasures from the storeroom;
Treasures to enlighten
Treasures to surprise
Treasures to delight
The disciples of the kingdom.

Blessed are the frustrated
For they know this life is defective
Blessed are those who resist
For they know that they await a liberator
Blessed are the impatient
For they have their sights on freedom
Blessed are those who live in hope
For they will not be thwarted
Blessed are the dissatisfied
For they know this is but a pale reflection
And blessed are those who
Despite the fight on their hands
Despite the yearning on their lips
Despite the ache in their hearts
They reach out in love
They speak in peace
They bring hope to others
For with such as these God's Spirit rests.

When you walk
Walk through the green
On deep paths
Walk purposefully
In the footsteps
Of pilgrims past

When you walk
Walk each new step
Thoughtfully
Placing your footsteps
Joyfully
With eyes on the holy

And there you'll find
Not only the pleasure
Not just the delight
Not solely the feast
But you will find yourself
Released
Your soul
Your spirit
Sustained
Strengthened
Singing
There you'll discover
Your true guide for your path
Your great high priest.

A li'l touch'll do ya
A li'l be 'nough
Ya just need a li'l touch
To get ya thru the rough

A li'l touch'll do ya
A li'l'll see ya thru
One li'l brush and touch
Will make ya feel like new

A li'l touch'll do ya
'Though He'll give ya so much more
He'll wrap His arms 'round ya
Til ya can't take any more
He'll stay by ya whatever
He'll stick with ya like glue
His touch will stay on with you
Yes He's truely tried and true.

Come little brother
Keep hold of my hand and we will climb
Over the last rise and into the green
Where we can let loose and run free
Through a knee high time machine
Throwing us back to a time when we
Were care free, hard and lean
Running under an eternal sun
Squeezing fun from every minute
Throwing a blanket of light laughter
Conquering every summit
Echoing around the valley
Skimming smooth flat stones
Refreshing reviving
Bringing life to our wearied bones
And reminding our old souls
Where home truely lies
Just keep hold of my hand and climb
Just over that next rise.

How much more
- passion
How much more
- protection
How much more
- affection
Full and overflowing
Unconditional
Demonstrable and
Lavished on each of you
Will your Father in heaven
Give to those who ask

Some futures wait
biding their time,
maturing, slowly fermenting,
allowing their aroma to herald their coming.
Forecasting, politely waiting for a welcome,
a by your leave,
an if you please,
gifting time to ready ourselves
despite their inevitability.

Some futures are more impatient
and crash in with an oblivious grin.
Uninvited, unwanted,
giving no hint of a fair warning.
They waltz right through,
all elbows and no grace,
treading on tender toes
as if they own the place.
They arrive unannounced
without the warning of a fanfare
and make themselves right at home
in your granddad's favourite armchair.
Throwing themselves down,
taking pride of place.
Showing no awareness
of how they dominate the space.
Bringing in their king kong odor
taking over all that we had built,
imposing their change
without the faintest sign of guilt.

And all we can do is make more room.
All we can do is hold on to each other.
And all we can do is build anew
and rebuild our lives into this forced future

and make it our own once more.

This is what friends, what families were designed for
For times of grief, for times of can't cope
A surrogate for God's loving arms
A foretaste of an eternal hope.

Some futures wait
Biding their time
Maturing slowly
Fermenting
Allowing their aroma to herald their coming
Waiting for a welcome.

Some futures are more impatient
And crash right in uninvited
With no warning
Not allowing us any time to prepare.
Some futures arrive unannounced
And make themselves right at home
Taking over all that we had built
Imposing their change
Without waiting for our permission.

And all we can do is make room
And build anew
All we can do is hold on to each other
And rebuild into the future
And make it our own.

We're all born screaming
While screams echo back
And one day we learn
To hold our screams in check

But the world keeps on screaming
Its groans ignore our reluctance
Tearing through our dreams
Persistently confronting us

The only source of peace for us
Are Jesus' gentle whispers
They serve as a quiet respite
For those who are able to listen
 
And soon the whispers clarify
The groans from the world around
These aren't cries of anger
But pleas to be unbound

Creation itself cries out
For rescue by its maker
To be allowed to at last fulfil
The purpose it was made for

And so our eyes are opened
To the reason for our screams
We cry with all creation
For a full and final release

And Jesus hears our cries
He's not deaf to our prayers
He'll come again in his glory
With earthshaking fanfares

Our cries will turn to song
Secure in a brand new earth
Creator and creation in harmony
Echoing glad cries of new birth

So a new born baby's screams
Shouldn't come as any surprise
They are simply giving echo
To creation's longing sighs.

Greater trusting
With more heart
Lesser leaning
On your own smarts
More recognition
At each intersection
That you can rely
On the map maker's direction

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
The creator of the ends of the earth.
Do you not know?
While what you see around you is temporary,
while those around you may not be as dependable as they might at first seem
there is someone who is never flaky,
someone who does not disappear at the first sign of trouble
(or for that matter at any signs of trouble).
Someone who remains when the going gets tough,
someone who stands with you whatever,
someone who goes before you wherever,
someone who is never fazed by what lies around the corner
because He's been there.
Even if you go to the ends of the earth
He will never grow weary,
His understanding will never be exhausted
for He created every beginning and every end
He lasts -
He lasts lifelong.

How many poets
Does it take to change a light bulb?

Two.
One to hold the ladder.
And one to tearfully consider the transitive nature of existence compounded by the tragedy of the assumption of replacement without true celebration of the individuality found at the heart of the mass produced and the beauty that can be found in a frail light fighting against the darkness inherent in an unfair world.

Grandma's girlish giggle
A wink from grinning grandpa
And a burst of farts from the sleeping dog -
These raise a much needed smile
To brighten the close of my bone weary day.

What doe's it talk to majesty a bit MSN cry?
How fast download the roast mist a MSN go
beforehand he really his gossip?
How management days mist a MSN present beforehand he films hid like storeys?
ALOT

Sitting relaxed with a bookshop coffee
Enjoying the spacious quiet of my own company
Absorbing the backdrop of aromatic percolation
Of released steam offering sweetened caffeination
The gentle mumur of friends in conversation
The swift taps of bowed students writing late dissitations
And wall to wall literature patiently inviting exploration
This is a bliss that aids meditation.

And then - uninvited -
I'm aware of a cold creeping consternation
At the realisation of the absent phone connection
So I pack my bag with resentful capitulation
Seeking a stronger indication of digital association.

And when you stand
Ready to raise your hands
In prayer to heaven
Consider your heart and ask -
Do you have any hardfeelings
Anyone who you need to be forgiving
Any ill feeling that needs divine healing?
Cos if there is
Then you know that needs dealing
Before you can get to your kneeling
And your Father can truely hear your appealing.
And don't think it's worth trying concealing
No, simply deal with it by giving some forgiving
And then you can engage with some true conversing
With your loving Father listening in heaven.

Not slow -
But patient,
Like love is patient.
Patient like watching the ark being built
And staying His torrential hand.
Patient like letting His friend Lazurus die
Knowing greater glory was planned.
Patient like explaining for the umpteenth time
How He must suffer at the hands of men.
Patient like watching Judas scheme
Waiting for His preordained end.

Not impatient to come again
Yet not slow to keep His promise,
Simply yearning that all might be saved
That salvation might be accomplished.

Unplug yourself and in that stark still shade linger eyes-wide under His gentle gaze and let Him examine and explore your innermost longings and there you can share in the glory of each of His imaginings.  And as you linger, stay still longer, allow Him to thread through the laughter of the warm flickering shadows of hearth and home, let Him give voice and shape and colour to every faint ember and let your spirit soar with His through every new door that He has in store for you and yours.

Linger longer and then soar.

He may have been your father,
But he sure wasn't your daddy.
He may have once donated seed
But he didn't see it through.

He wasn't there long enough
To be worthy of your affection.
He didn't teach you anything
Cept how to be untrue.

Whatever you feel t'ward him
Don't let it redefine you.

The lovely man I see here now
Isn't credit to just one *****.

And when you give
Give like the widow would
Quietly and thoughtfully
Wholeheartedly and consciously
Like you know the value of costly
The value of giving til you laughingly
Really hurt in your fund for a holiday.

And when you give
Keep your other hand wondering
If it's sufficiently
Not knowing if it was slight of handedly
Or open handedly
So you're tempted into giving more
Than you intended previously.

And when you give
Give hilariously
Generously
Be gutsy til angels agree
On the degree
To which you plunge
The depths of your karki jeans

And if in doubt
Just focus on the tree
And the costly sacrifice
He willingly made
For you and me.

Give like the widow would -
Like it's just between you and God
And then you'll be free.

Why shatter the window when my door is wide open?
Why shout with frustration when I'm standing right here?
Why plead so loudly when you have my attention?
Why slap me so hard when I'm wiping your tears?

I see you're so lost, I see you're so lonely
I feel your hot anger, I feel your deep fears
Whatever you do, even when you disown me
I'll sit here beside you, until the fog clears

****** Vesta perched on the hearth
Warming her strong slender hands.
30 years is a very long wait
To have them warmed by a man.
However she knew she could rely
On the constant warm love of her sisters.
The men could wait while she matured
In sisters' softer caresses.

You left.
What's up?
Did the WhatsApp offend?
Did we fail to delight?
Or is it just that you're too busy tonight?
We were chatting
Exchanging
Goofing
Emojing
But all of a sudden
It was clear you were leaving.
(Sad-face-crying)
- What'sUp?

Unplug yourself
And in that stark still shade
Enjoy the glory of your imaginings -
Often conceived, rarely nurtured,
Scarcely shared
Or allowed to thread through the laughter
Of the warm flickering shadows
Of hearth and home.
Give voice and shape and colour
To every faint ember
And you - will - soar.

Hush.
Quiet your hands.
Lay still for a moment.
Right now, just the scent of you,
Just your touch
Is overwhelming.

Godzilla went walking in the woods
And wondered where Bambi had gone
He wanted to spend more time with her
He found her a lovely fun fawn

He didn't see that last time they met
When he thought they were having such fun
His oversized feet weren't that discrete
And Bambi has now been expunged.

You created my inmost being; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I was woven together in the depths of the earth; from the first stitch your eyes saw my unformed body.  Before you completed that first row all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

You selected the yarn by colour, by weight, choosing the texture with utmost care. You picked out the ideal needles, counted the ***** of wool and with a smile settled down to cast on that first stitch.

Your fingers blurred into action as you chatted with family, confident of the pattern you yourself designed  -

With a knit and a pearl the stitches increased and decreased to ensure the desired shape, maintaining a consistent gauge stitch after stitch, row after row.

And after hours of knitting and chatting, with a satisfied sigh you cast off and held up the result of your handy work to the light for all to admire.

How precious you are to me. How I wonder at this body knitted together with such love and with such great skill.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully knitted.

The ready empathy took me by surprise.
She took precise aim with her eyes
And pierced my worn armour
With ease,
Slowly and calmly
Drawing out my story
With her tears
Diluting my grief with her kindness
Lightening the weight with each smile
Beneath the spring blossom.

Remember to think better,
think further,
think deeper
and with vigour.
Pepper your remember
with colour,
with light,
with friends who delight.
Boost your remember
with story,
with histories,
with cramped group selfies.
And remember your remembers
whenever,
wherever
you drift off centre.
And there you'll discover
your defenders,
your never surrenders
against all contenders.
Then you'll remember
your forevers.
Remember -
it's your best self defense.

Fierce potential
For pain
For hate
For fear

For love
For joy
For care

Forever potent
In every moment
For success
Or disappointment

So take each day
And squeeze it dry
Choose with care
Your closest allies
Don't want for trying
Don't fall for the lying
Stay true to your dreaming
It's yours for the taking.

Ghost or shell
Be sure it's all me
Raising hell

"Didn't He tell you
Wasn't it clear
Did you not realise
Did you not hear?

He is now risen
He is not here
He's gone on ahead
Please hold back your tears.

We won't need your spices
Don't look so amazed
Go tell everybody
His body's been raised."

So shocked and bewildered
They left the cold tomb
And ran to the others
Who hid in a room,

"Jesus has risen
He's body's not there
Let's go now and meet him
In Galilee where

He'll explain it all to us
Make clear what He said
Please don't look so worried
No need to be scared.

Jesus has risen
I tell you it's true
Let's go now and meet Him
Let's start life renewed."

I will make old bones
Keep a silver mane
Flash bright emerald eyes
Scatter mischievous kisses
And carry a sweet song
With old school style.

Until I take that closing bow,
I - shall - be - Glorious!

His words were leavened with love
as He shared His last mortal meal.

If you listened with care
His voice maybe cracked with grief
even while His hands were laced with grace
as He broke the crust
releasing the warmth into the chatter
He shared with His friends.

And if you watched closely
His hands perhaps shook a little
as He poured out His full bodied wine
intense in its dark flavour
infused with fragrance
as if ripe for an altared offering.

And if you looked into His face
you might have seen a sheen
in the firelight
over the determination
to see this through
to the last.

My bones don't fit anymore
My hair grows heavy
Bearing down on my neck
Like a vice.
My fingers curl white tight
And my stomach roars with wings
While my ears are consumed in flame.

But my feet continue their reckless shuffle
To a song known only to them
And perhaps to my lips
But they remain stubbornly dumb.

REDRAFT:
My bones don't fit anymore
My hair infuriates
Growing wild with rebellion
My eyes fill at the slightest provocation
While my ears are consumed in flame.
My fingers curl white tight
And my stomach roars with wings seeking flight.

But my feet continue their reckless shuffle
To a song known only to them
And perhaps to my lips
But they remain stubbornly dumb.

And when you read
Don't rush -
Theres no need to read
with undue speed.

And when you read
Start with a suckle -
Work up to a nibble -
Until you can gnaw without a dribble.
I encourage you
Get down to the marrow
Like there's no tomorrow.
Savour each word
As food for your soul
And live as a model
As to how to live whole.

And when you read
Apply your mind daily,
Apply each word liberally
(especially to those out of the way
hard to reach places).

And when you read
- Study
Sometimes with a buddy
But - study.
This is no hobby,
You can't afford to get sloppy.
It's as crucial for the soul
As five a day for the body
- So study.

And when you read
Treat each word
Like a tutor;
It can teach you
How to live shrewder.

And when you read
Sustain it like a seed,
Ensure you pay heed
Cos it will never mislead.

And when you read
Do it to a plan,
Always with intent
And be sure
To finish as you began.

And when you read
Commit to it daily,
Commit it to memory
To avoid thinking lazily.

And when you read
Do it while a commuter
Do it on a computer
Do it with a kindle
Do it with audio
Do it with a paperback
Do it with a hard back
Do it from front to back.
However you develop the knack
Don't let yourself slack;
This Word is no throw back,
It will keep you on track.
So just read.

And when you serve,
Start with the feet

And when you serve,
Get down low
With a towel and a water bowl

And when you serve,
Find your honour not over
But under
Not higher
But lower
Not first
But last.

So when you serve,
Don't wait your turn
But push your way
Right to the back.
Where you'll find
Nothing to prove
Nothing to hide
And nothing to loose
But your pride.

Yes, you heard,
When you serve
Observe His example:
Undo a sandal
And start - with - the - feet.

The surrounding lights drown in silence
Sinking without a struggle
Absorbed into this sea of isolation
Saturating every action into submission
Leaving me shouting at my strayed shadow
With each note falling flat around me
My mind fog-bound and lost at sea.

April Fool Phil's in love
And doesn't care what the date is
What matters is the ring on his finger
That matches his Mrs.
Standing before their families
Gathered from across the miles
Beaming smiles toward this happy couple
Praying for years of joy
And precious few troubles.

It was the same old song
Their mates were wondering
When they'd get a move on
Now their mothers are thinking
Of the fruit of the union (Don't deny it)
Meanwhile Phil is planning
Space for a drum kit
(I wrote that before I saw he'd already unpacked it)
And Anna is dreaming
Of a G&T; and just how Phil is so fit

So you'll both be forgiven
For failing to notice the party in heaven:
Thousands of angels cheering
With little discretion.
They just love it you see
When plans come to fruition
When birds of a feather
Find such pleasure together.

And they know for sure
The Lord shares their smiles
Cos two of his children
Can't help but shine
With the happiness that comes
From deep down knowing
That their love is ordained
By their Father in heaven. 

So Phil, so Anna
We stand with the angels
And shout our congratulations
We applaud your vows
With more volume
Than decorum allows,
-
May the Lord bless you
And keep you
May his face shine on you
And give you peace
That will never cease
To give you pause to thank Him
For his Grace.

And all the assembled people said
AMEN.

Have I been too revealing
Employing too much wailing?
Were the drums a bit too much
With epic trumpets playing?

Have I been too obtuse
Or did I veer into rambling?
Could I have better laid it out
Without elaborating?

Have I done justice to the discourse?
Did I mis-count the charging horses?
Did I include sufficient angels?
Was I true to my sources?

I trust that I did hold true
To heavenly inspiration
That the words will stand the test of time
And bring true revelation

But if I did stray from the truth
If it all seemed way too bleak
Please respond with due good grace
It's only my first week.

I miss my mother most
when I'm in her frenetic company.
Such an angry fragile woman
in the shadow of the mum
she used to be.
Lost and alone, wanting a way home,
one woman against the world
with no old friends
only fresh new foes.

She can identify every shifting lie
sitting scared with no escape
from a hundred shifty eyes.
Stalkers criticise every mistake
watching her practice looping moves
cornering her as if to prove
that we're all conspiring
each trying to rob her
when the screaming truth here
is that her fleeting thoughts
have already gone where
we can never walk
not even in our tears.