Friday, November 27, 2009


There is no moment

As radiant as that which

Carries one beyond the light

Of consideration.

There can be no thought

Beyond that of wanting the present

To be real,



And kind.

There is a glance,

A shimmer of gentle quiet

Which prevails

Which haunts

That which is held secret

Within the concentrated energy

Of spirit felt.

Through each effervescent breath

Expressed unwillingly

With the honour of truth,

One sees beyond the mist

And enters the field of fear

With confidence.


It could be that you feel as one

It could be that you dread the fear

Of pleasure sought within

Your soul.

It could be that one on one

As you seek beyond the glass

For salvation of the self

That the reflection of the mirror affront

Carries you into a world of your creation.

As you draw the curtains

Give courage to the rhythm of sound,

Allow light to enter your vision,

Open words to beautify your lips

And depart,

With head held high,

With eyes as clear as ice,

With love by your side.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

There is a world of abuse

That  continues to threaten

The common self.

There is a haunting presence

That shadows the perception of light.

There is a pressure that lures

Beyond the candle lit flame,

With a double faced head

Gleaming with impertinence,

Grinning with menace.

A twitch in the movement

Of her head, angled towards

The sound of familiar

Drone around, illustrates the discomfort

Of the infused atmosphere.

Familiar sounds, both lyrical

And musical, combined with converse,

Both banal and entertaining.

The beat rolls,

Aggressively motivating the speed of change.

A pause for air, from beneath

The surface of submission,

Creates a new film of light

On the participating fools.

Taste, devour, invade, intrude, continually

Reassure of the insecurities felt,

The abuse once held dear,

The isolation endured amongst

The presence of others.

Await, the end,

There is none.

There is only observation

Observation of oneself.

Does this feel any better?

Does this make you smile?

Does this hit deep and excite?

Does this remove the mist of


Does this re-shape your desire?

Does this give shape to your

Phantoms of restraint?

Does this belong to you as it should?

Does it give you a reason to escape?

Does it free you from your ball and chain?

Does it talk to you in your sleep?

And awake you from your dreams?

Is it real and ugly?

Is it dark and true?

Is it you?


From frustration to comprehension.


Of individualism and suffocation,

With wisdom and clarity.

Or that is what they said!


A string of tension, drawn between

Two understandings of being,

Two perceptions of essence,

Two visions of life.

A pool of murkiness to cloud anyone’s

Self confidence amongst the shadows of power.


A ring master, orchestrating the fatal

Brutal dog fight to the kill.

The fear

Of finding yet another cadaver wrapped

Clinically in a polythene body bag

Floating down the Los Angeles river.

Graceless, with it’s heart fed to the dogs

And it’s soul thrown to the homeless.

To offer one’s skin, is to sacrifice one’s flesh.

To pledge one’s name to the cause, is to

Stand up and fight until the last torch dies.

I see no revenge, I see truth.

Truth in their eyes as they lie through their teeth.

Blood on their hands as they reign their kingdom of fear.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

I have her bottled in my senses.

I feel the grain of her smell upon my skin.

Each thought burns with the essence of five

Enriched moments beyond,

Beyond the moment of Recall,

Recalling the moment of Seduction.

With each breath I devour the memory,

Tasting the freedom of her charm.


Yesterday’s soap,

Today’s embrace,

Tomorrow’s Vision of Harmony.

Each moment deepens in time with my breath,

Each pore releases the power of Seduction. For me

To fall at her feet in adoration,

For her tainted skin,

For her stained aroma,

In the wake of her scent,

Through the trail of her perfume.


I sense her pulsating veins

Of wisdom and truth,

Of honour and quest,

Of why and how

We never met.

The Full Circle

The Full Circle


Through eternity

Leaving one limb exposed to the sun

Burned by it’s rays of reason

Dried by it’s words of wisdom.

There is no passion that can

Cure the thoughts of disdain

Felt and endured

Til my glance is no longer lifted

In curious envy

By the visible

Life of others.

I feel rhythm,

I feel peace,

I feel voice

Of experience

Roll it’s power over my senses

And seduce me again

With belief.

Of me.

Of my peace.

Of my solitude.

As government begins to auction

We sell our soul for a third of it’s true value.

The 28 billion will only half cover the debts

We have incurred over years of human existence.

To own treasuries makes no sense

When the most precious asset we have is our belief

In the self

In the Universe

In the balance of the two.

Earnings that continue to feed the mouths

Of greed

Of religion

Of war

Will only draw us closer to the worst poverty of all.

The poverty of thought

The poverty of opportunity

The poverty of creation.

The population of underdeveloped man

Has no relation to the place of settlement,

But all to do with the state of maturity

Of mind

Of body

Of soul.

In this time of instability

Let us not feed on stocks and shares

Let us not feed on dollars and dow

Let us not feed on the decline of trade,

But instead


Without shame

From the dept we owe

To ourselves.




Through creativity

Must reign,

As king

And his court

As Queen

And her chambers,

To govern



This volatile land

Laced in oil

We call his soul.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Friday, July 31, 2009

This arid state of maturity

This desert drought of thought

This poisoned air of faith

This enveloping smog of freedom

This suffocating rain of vision

This violent storm of peace

This turbulent flight of opportunity

This flooded land of creativity

This vital sea of fear

This fatal avalanche of courage

This overcast sky of clarity

This darkened cave of love

This rocky path of good

This motorway of hell

This carnivore of pleasure

This single cell of honour

This written word of truth

This proud ignorance of life…


This contradiction of self…


Who said it was easy?

We are no longer prisoners

We are no longer prisoners

Of routine

Of foresight

Of expectations.

We are no longer tortured

By the wealth

Mistook for comfort

Disguised as respect.

We are no longer angry

At the forced wind of change

That haunted our only view

And captured our single dream.

We are no longer weakened

By thoughts of injustice

By regrets of time

By wasted talent.

We are no longer fooled

By other’s demands

By other’s guilt.

The guilt is not ours

And never will be…

Wednesday, July 29, 2009


Inextricable connections

Falling down between the rain

Drowning beneath the steps of treason

Floating above the lies of fate.

There is a cloud, heavy as the tropical storm

That hovers above those who are weighted

By their own misfortune

By their own misguidance.

In return their soul is paid for

By others

By themselves

By those who will only see

The rage of the times

Amidst the chaos of yesterday

Within the calm of tomorrow.

Inevitable parallels

Streaming beyond the rays

Of tomorrows sunshine

Reflecting the beams

Of yesterdays hazy vision.

There is light, from within

The floorboards of foundation,

Exposing the nails which bond or decay

The relation between the supporting beams.

Those who believe in the shining

Of light through life,

Lived life

Will live

In life

With life,