Sunday, January 10, 2016


From the depths of our inner layer
Calls the silent voice of longing.
The missed moments that blur into a cloud
Of insignificance,
Haunt our every thought as if beating quietly
Upon our conscience,
Reminding us of our commitment made
Before we exhaled our first breath.
The first inhale lingers as an unspoken promise
In the air, of a loved one just departed,
The one who loved us enough to give birth to our soul.
I read words written a life time ago and my heart
Tightens with a yearning to return to that self
Who wandered through life,
Connected to an inner voice,
Which lept out onto the page
And viciously captured the injustice
Of the ever present moment creeping into the past.
This past I now live in the present.


As it flows, my hair pushes past my face
And conceals the future guised as a windswept
Ghost town dusted by the rising sands
Of the high deserts.
Everyone’s hair is crossing their face
And sticking to their lips
And only half trapped behind their ears.
No-one sees the future.
And why would we?
Why should this body be built with
A pre-called path, with a destination determined
By the molecular structure which is our foundation?
Our foundation is that which gives us strength
And posture, but it is the vision,
The spirit of the vision, the dream of the spirit,
That guides us.
As the tumbling walls of the rickety saloon
Sing of days long gone,
Rejoicing in the memories of shared love
In the presence of the divine spirit of song,
Yet in the face of the darkened souls
Driven by dark liquids,
Consumed in the hours of darkness,
I am still hearing the voices of those gone as I sing along.
As I recapture the forever moment of life,
I recapture my own imagination as I live and breathe
The evening bustle, today and yesterday.
But never the tomorrow.
And why would I?
Why challenge the ever changing present
To capture the future and encage it,
As we would a wild animal?
Doesn’t the future have it’s own sense of freedom?
It’s own soul?
It’s own life beyond our conditioning?
As it flows, time, the wind blows my hair free from my face
And I see clearly.
I see here.
I see now.


If I am held prisoner by my own thoughts,
I wonder which part of myself locked me up.
I continue to circle the cell, cold smooth walls
With microscopic cracks bleed along it’s veins of secrecy,
Whilst my naked feet uncurl with each step as they trespass
Through the concrete slabs of conditioned thought.
My finger nails scratch the surface of knowledge
As I dream of an escape.
I hurl myself at the barred window and inhale the freedom of the air outside,
Holding my breath as if to expand my lungs with the promise of emancipation.
About to burst with potential, I release slowly each particle from within,
As they dance in song to un-scored music of a time once lived
By many afore captured prisoners.
I watch them dance like spirits in the sky, as they beckon me from the other side.
Thank you, I hear myself whisper.
And I stretch my wings and fly.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

The Others...

They don’t hear my screams as they fall on sound proof barriers
Deaf to their insensitive radars,
Meanwhile my screams are deafening inside my head.
My sonic range of sensitivity is deafening 
To those of like-minded souls,
The eco waves piercing through the atmosphere of fear.
Blinding screams and silence.
How can these be reconciled?
How truly born of two worlds, apart, 
Yet released from the same source.
My scrambled thoughts cause a constrained collection of madness
Within my being, augmenting a permanent state of anxiety.
And why?
Because my voice of high frequency sonic value rebounds against
The insensitive receiver barriers of others,
Circling within my cave of darkness and confusing 
The purity of sound within my thoughts.
I will retreat to my cave, to my high frequency atmosphere
And I will chose to speak with tones of silence,
Only to those whose egos are tamed, 
Only to those whose frequency calms my soul,
Only to those from whom I can learn peace and silence within,
Only to those who listen.
I will emerge in dusk, in nightfall, with caution and silence
And I will sense, using my echo location, the habitats of
Those who commune with compassion, those who touch to feel,
Those who cry with joy at the highest frequency,

And those who have their fears close to their hearts.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

THE LAND / 2014

Perhaps I am impatient,
Perhaps I am in a hurry,
But I feel the time pass.
I feel weeks and months
Evaporate before they appear.
I have known years that have lived
And died, some with grace,
Others with such a lack of
Dignity that I feel the shame
Of the passing of an unfulfilled life.

Once you can change your perspective you
Can liberate your vision.
Your thoughts can be digested with taste
And your ideas can be worn with pride.
Sink low and deep, see the density of the
Ground upon which we walk and feel the
Catch the flicker of light as it reflects the
Web of consciousness and stare into the
Dry brittle roots of habit.
Observe the depth of the shadows as they
Elongate their essence, towering beneath
The gravel surfaces of our time.
As the all powerful sun prepares it’s
Nest amongst the pines, sinking slowly into
A state of suspense, refusing to quite
Let go of today’s moment.
Sense the gratitude well up inside you as
This great master prepares you for your
As you lean your heart into the crystalized
Surface of the rock, you reach out to feel
It’s protective edge.  It’s very boundary
Is that which gives you clarity of being.
The trust that has built up between you
Allows you to roam the land,

I dream of the land, our land.
I dream of the birds, our birds.
I dream of learning a new language, the
Language of Life.
The howling of winds
The rustle of leaves
The intellectual cries of crows
The shifting grains of sand
The flutter of beating wings
The bubbling of the spring.
As the subway deafens my soul,
As the mass of people
Suffocate my breath,
As the strip lights blind my heart,
I dream of love, your love.

As night falls I nestle into myself.
As dawn breaks I curl up into you. 

The last whispers of truth crackle in the silence 
Sharing stories from an ancient time, weighting 
Each shrub to this magical land.
The recently reddened skies now bleed dry with
A harsh chiaroscuro which bathes
The tips of the shrubs in warmth, whilst
Abandoning their roots in shadowed shame.
The birth of a new day holds promise for a
Deeper understanding of stillness.
I crave this stillness.
As duty tears me away into the chaotic rhythms
Of unconscious activities, of calculating minds,
Of artificial rituals to establish 
One’s powers or beliefs,
As I leave the peace of this land, my most
Treasured gift, may I hold within my being
This moment.
This moment of stillness.
This stillness within. 

I know not the way
But year after year
As the elephants have entered caves,
Travelled to their depths, blinded by the complete
Darkness, all to catch the
Essential mineral of life, led
Merely by generations and generations of
Knowledge, inherently known, not taught,
I too will enter darkness, I too will trust
The blinded path.
I too will follow the guides
Of generations before, who will lead me to
Life, to the essential being of life, to
My essential being.
I know not the way,
But I shall know the way...