Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Spirit will

Old days, old times, old faces, smiles,
revolve in tandem in the mind
and this at night when all is still
except the drone of spirit will.

I listen to that drone at night;
‘tis silent when the brain takes flight
into the mix and blend of days
that begat both pleasure and the pain.

And the drone is overcome by this
like trees within a swirl of mist
and lies invisibly forlorn
by all that went before.

Yet still I hear the wish, the need,
for mind to repel useless scenes
and pattern a new vision quest
for when the mind’s at rest.

Sleep, oh, sleep, amazing sleep,
and spirit will acquires a beat
that moves the mind and heart of one
towards the shade of other suns.

That shade’s a place where all must go
and they say it’s deep within the soul!

Saturday, June 26, 2010

The road of dreams

The road of dreams twists and turns,
climbs mountains then down again,
and sometimes hugs with all its might
the grand and glorious sea.

There are no signs along the way
to warn of humps and bumps
or potholes that wait with evil intent
or dead ends and circular routes.

So I travel and travel like one unnerved
by the stress of the unexpected
but this remains an unconscious event
until by chance I drive over a cliff
and know I’ve come at last
to the end of a beautiful dream.

But dreams create and recreate roads
again, again, and again,
and insert sneakily magnetic strips
that attract the dreamers, you see.

Attracted then by the dream I am dreaming
I remain forever and ever
a beautiful dream traveller!

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Today I am within this time
where space is violated
by crates of limitation
stacked one upon the other
in and around
mind’s innocence.

‘tis the crates that keep the mind
well and truly confined
and there is no disgrace
until the moment comes
for clearing out the store
of the implanted.

Sometimes it’s done, the floor is swept,
mind becomes an adult,
and choice stands large and regal
in the silence of a void.

To the side the aid of ignorance
stands tempting in the shadows
but it’s called in simple parlance
a survival tool
in a world where crates are comforters
and stagnant air a crutch.

And so of adults ignorant
who choose the side again, again,
beware the large and regal
because it’s mass an awesome force
until the floor is cleared again
and ne’er again is littered
with crates of limitation!

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Everybody's tears

The sea waits with open arms
for the release and the giving
of everybody’s tears
but now the shore the keeper
because what if, what if,
the tears of love not manifest
ne’er can ever cease
and the capacity of sea
merely an illusion?

The land will become
unstable for my feet
and I will float like debris
on waves of hysteria
until the inevitable
sink into oblivion.

It will be the end of my world
and ‘tis not to say imagination
not a prophet or a seer
and so the shore holds tears,
stretches them from you to me,
and weaves them all together
to not pressure the sea
into an overspill.

But overspills have been, will be,
because the sea not distant and apart
from burdens placed on the shore
so give your precious tears,
give them to …
an illusion!

Thursday, June 10, 2010


Flags wave in the breeze
and I wonder if they feel
the air cruel and sinister
around their happiness.

It’s a movement from all sides
not intended ere to be
but it forces a crossover
from the upright and determined
to a wayward vagabond.

Unable to remain at peace
that vagabond is me
manoeuvred like a fool
into a foreign mode
by the air that circulates
demonic energy.

So I plant my flag again, again,
from where it was to where should be
and this exercise seems futile
when nothing can be seen
but the bend and stretch,
mental intent,
the saviour of all flags, you see,
that wave haphazard in a breeze!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


They tell me there are islands
basking like the carefree
somewhere beneath the sun
but maybe they are fantasies
grown meaningful by need
or a dream past the midnight hour
that disappears at dawn.

And is that island lonely
for the rise and collapse
of peace and tranquillity
or does it level out itself
and remain in constant harmony
with its surroundings?

But I know of no island
not surrounded by the sea
that changes from a state of grace
to one of righteous anger
and so of islands they must be
plain and simply just like me!

Monday, June 7, 2010


I know I made a vow
sometime before the lie
but of vows they disappear
when the circumstance of life
overtakes and suffocates
what was meant to be
and substitutes a fallacy.

I cannot say they’re fickle
or simply do not care
but rather that they’re fluid
and seep between the gaps
of determined ignorance
in attempts to be known
and made meaningful.

I look sometimes across the lie
but the ignorant can see no gap
and cannot gather drips and drops
of what they cannot see
and so of vows they lie as dead
from this life until the next ~
but between the two, yes, it’s true,
there’s most certainly a gap
and I await the gathering
while preparing my epistle
in defence of ignorance!