whispered

we made a compact    right from the very start    we’d be secret lovers    with no strings attached       we were just two thieves      playing with stolen time      and what we shared together     remains buried in our hearts      but I sometimes speak your name       when there’s no one else around      I whisper that I love you       but hardly make a sound

friday's child

 I stared in the mirror     until I no longer recognised my face      but saw in my 

reflection       that friday’s child      is a trumpet of peace      and a sword of 

deliverance       from the forces of darkness

I laid me down      by the still waters    an oasis of life      in the motherless waste       the wisest of fools       will surrender their hearts      to the love universal

I’ve been turned out        with no brass in my pockets      but I count the stars as personal wealth       my home is heaven       this born again loser       who supped with the devil       and drank to his health        

pneuma

 

too many hyenas       not enough lions      no individuals left      in this menagerie     our tribal brothers    fuelled  on junk and weed      are waiting to cut us down to size    but I shall not be shamed   by another’s words or deeds        I am now consigned   to the power that rules my fate         there’s nothing left to fear       in the face of certain death

I am centred now      on myself alone       and on the accumulation

of personal power        I stand  as a singular entity     empty  and without form       I require no validation        I have no points to score     I sacrificed my pretentions          and freed up the space       between myself and the world     to polish my connection      to the man within

sometimes    in the moment    I forget to think about myself    and it feels good    to be that free     I’m tired of looking  in distorted mirrors    and preening my interior    with the kind of self perception     that flatters to deceive

I don’t want to escape     I simply want tuned in     I don’t know where I’m going     I do know where I’ve been   I no longer worry   over the inconsequential    and it’s all inconsequential    as far as I can see    and I can see quite far    on any given day

I do my own thing      it’s the only path that suits me     it’s the path that leads to freedom     no one showed me      I have no method     I have no teachers     it’s easier that way      I am inconspicuous   and self possessed      and that’s the form of freedom      that matters most to me  

 

bitter intentions

 there are some graves       you cannot fill       with drink     or drugs      or sacred vows        some things die           from no good cause        and our grief blossoms       with black and blue petals

we poisoned our prayers          with bitter intentions       and lived to reap       the spoils of conflict       our bloody wounds       are constant reminders         that the pain we deal out      will one day find us

hey dreamer!

 breakfast time       dawn streams      through your blistered eyes       somebody got lucky last night      but it wasn’t you        so pull up yer drawers      and dry your eyes    

don’t make yourself sick      you’ve done no harm today       well, nothing that will stick        so take a shower       roll a joint       get yer metal fixed

hey dreamer!        on yer toes       don’t space out       they’ll go through your pockets       leave you with hee haw        it’s a long walk home        when you’re empty      

you stole a little pleasure      your action was real slick       you had yourself a good time        god knows you felt no pain       but now it’s time  to scuttle home       before they make you pay