The Gospel – trailer

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Enduring patiently

An alpha and omega song.
Sung to us when young.
Seeps into the soul and sets the angels afire.
Speak those words of the prophecy.
Of tar fields and lunacy.
An aching hurt that rips into your bones.
At a distance from love when all the world goes dark.
The flame does flutter and ignite the hope.
Around which, please do not breathe lest the flame goes out.
A flame, which will tear away Satan.
And bring a rush of blood to your head.
Perceive the end in the beginning, for that is where we need to be.
Back at the start, dusting off the hurt and shame.
Washing the ego away in the stream of change.
One with you, at one with the divine.
God in your own design, wearing your clothes.
Making you shine.
The first, and the last.
The beginning and the end.
Angels which now call your name.
Taking back the world.

Atone & combust

This truth ignites within.
Smouldering for the time it takes to live and be born again.
The leaves that turn on the tree.
The sun that orbits my solar system.
Knowing when the time is right.
Grab a hold the crystal mouth of god and kiss upon the divine.
Lips as sweet as a morning chorus in the spring.
As the winter recedes.
And the darkness fades.
Go, into the new light with a sword truth.
A certainty of the path you wish to follow.
On stones of good intentions.
And time never borrowed.
Your eyes will burn in the radiance of knowing.
But there will be no pain.
For in the end, we have returned.

Instinct (feeling)

Illuminating, another dream. A waking life of happenstance.
Caught in your collapsing eyes, a scorched dream.
That empty coffee cup. That missed train.
Find me there.
Calling to you in a voice only God can hear.
The type of sound you can expect only at Christmas.
With choral tunes and awaiting disappointment.
Feelings. Stopped. Frozen for another time.
Frozen, in the summer rain that you hold me under.
I am the moth that flew back to the mountain.
The dragon under foot with a thorn in its side.
I am the love we had that fell into the ocean.
Lost forever in an indifferent tide.

Toujours en fuite?

Vous souvenez-vous, quand vous étiez jeune?
Les battements de coeur dans un infini.
Une seconde sur les lèvres de Dieu.
Pouvez-vous sentir la forêt?
Es-tu fuyant?
Disparu dans les arbres.
Quelle partie d’entre vous ne dort jamais?
Pour toujours rêver dans un monde où règnent les cauchemars.
Portez votre couronne.
Asseyez-vous, et lavez-vous dans les larmes cosmiques.

Yeux de Dieu

To see, with our eyes open.
Is true sight.
To reveal what is hidden.
That is what my feet touch this ground to do.
A reason for this earthly dwelling.
These veils that block out the sun.
Which stir the hurricanes in my world.
It’s all an illusion.
To see, with the eyes of god.
Born out of my own skull.
Is to know what life is all about.
And what to transform.

Oh Father

Trying to forget, in a month full of regrets.
Each one a paper cut on my tongue.
The sting and sing of a song never sung.
Oh father, please hear these crystal callings.
Tuneful as they resonate out of my bones.
It hurts deep within, now an avalanche of sin.
A snaking of something unknown.
This internal scaffolding rattles with every utterance.
Forgiveness seems to be someone else’s fate.
But I cough up a prayer, a confession;
my contrition aimed high into heaven.
As below my skeleton shatters to dust.
Silently, as I know I deserve it.

When worlds collide

Catch me staring, out into space.
Through the letterbox of wonder.
Out of the eyes of god.
And I found you.
Skimming the skies with darkness and sleep.
I watched you fall deep.
Into the oceans, and turned with the tide.
To know you, is to consume just a spark of your fire.
My own deep desire, explodes when we touch.
Mix and repel, our magnetised hearts.
Set to a compass which spins on the calendar.
Forcing us north of the North Pole.
To a tune I cannot hum.
What colours we make, what stars we conquer.
When our two worlds collide.

Time to regenerate

Partners in exposer, distant dreams uncovered.
These delusions, of downfall;
keep a heart and feet on edge.
Come paint this sky, wipe away the grey.
Emerge and break the lightning in mind.
A Bath for my brain as I breathe under water.
Turning the water to red.
Your arm-reach way, stretches across the universe.
Equal to all, statically shuffling sub atomically.
Bits of stars and dust, and molecules of love.
Come break this world and build it up again.
Woken and broken into pieces of god.
Drenched in the tears of the angels,
Splattered with the blood of Satan.
Wring out the colours of clarity.
And hold aloft for the jealousy of the dead.

Prophet

Stepping into the church after so many years made him hesitant at first. He lingered in the doorway like an uninvited guest, hovering on the threshold. Some tourists excused themselves in broken English as they brushed passed him, entering the cool relief of the stone sanctuary away from the blistering hot sunshine outside. Holding his breath, he stepped inside; glancing quickly high up to the ceiling as if looking for God.

The church was quiet, despite the added tourists who had passed him and who were now inspecting one of the older tomb covers towards the rear of the nave. He turned in the other direction and made his own way towards the collection of remembrance candles which twinkled out from a small alcove. Despite the sunshine which streamed in through the stained glass windows, the small candles held their own air of magic and brilliance. Tiny twinkling eyes danced together in their own little rhythms. They were why he was here today, the only reason he would ever step inside a church.

He noticed the small donations box propped up next to the candles, the unlit ones lumped together in a small metal box like a collection of teeth.

‘20p per candle’

The sign suggested, though whether this was indeed a suggestive price or intended one he wasn’t sure, either way it didn’t matter. He dropped the £2 coin into the metal coffin and was saddened to hear its solitary ring out from below. Clearly not many people needed remembering today. He picked up a candle from the box and then turned suddenly to the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Good afternoon.”

The old man said, smiling at him as he came towards the stand where the candles were. He wore a trench coat that did not suit the day’s weather, and he carried a hat in his hand as which he held down at his side. He was dressed for November, not the glorious spring Elysium that covered the world outside the door.

“Afternoon.” He replied in return, smiling at him, though annoyed he would have to share his moment with someone else now.

“Lovely day isn’t it?”

The old man had stopped a few feet from him, and seemed eager to engage in a conversation. Though annoyed somewhat, he had no intention of being rude and instead smiled and replied to him.

“It is indeed, a little too warm for me though.”

“This little church provides a nice little oasis from the outside world I find.” The old man said.

He nodded in agreement.

“Yes it does. Sorry, did you need to get to the candles too?” he asked him, motioning out of the way to where the candles lay.

“No, thank you. Please carry on. I didn’t mean to disturb you too much.”

“No trouble. I was just lighting a candle for my mother. It’s her birthday today.”

“I see. I shall leave you to it then. Though I should say, we never truly know what is coming our way, and must always prepare for the worst; but hope for the best.” He said.

He looked at him a moment, unsure of what he meant.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, just being philosophical. Please, I shall leave you in peace. Enjoy your day.” The old man said, and he suddenly turned and walked away, his loud jacket echoing off the small stone walls as he departed down the church.

How odd, he thought. He watched him go, then turned back to the candles that lay before him. Only a few were still burning brightly, the others dying out and completing their mission and sending the prayers into the sky. He held the small candle by the base and stuck the wick into a bright burning flame. The wick inhaled quickly, bursting into life. He placed it away from the others on the rack, letting it glow in its own lonely beauty. He thought of his mother, who had died a year ago. He watched as the wax dribbled down the side and remembered her quiet tears when she’d heard she was going to die. The cancer that had lain within her which had accelerated with an ungodly speed, to prove salvation impossible. His mother, his rock; gone practically overnight.

He closed his eyes and prayed for her, thinking how devoted to god she was and knowing if anyone were to be in heaven, it would be her.

The tourists who had entered before him had found their way to where he was now. Their foreign tongues licking at his neck signalled him it was time to leave. He turned and left, making his way towards the door, dropping a pound coin in the donations box near the entrance; but never looking down the aisle towards the alter, or taking in the sad pictures of the saints that peppered the walls.

He pushed the huge doors open, shut since his entrance into the small church on St. Collin’s street, and stood just inside the doorway. Nothing divine was calling him or pulling him back. There was no need to sprinkle himself with holy water or skim the bibles in search for a hymn to ease his soul. He stood in the doorway like a kid on a dock, because it had just that second started to rain.

Made for you

A compulsive yearning to breathe you in and out.
Devour me with your skin.
Hold me from within.
Your candied smile, and sacred heart.
A wonderful treasure of flesh and bone, given to me by God.
Protected by the angels above.
Who were once so cruel.
You fit me into heaven, with an open heart and palm.
I fall for you again and again, time over time as the universe bends.
Locked into your seraphim as we walk through the fire.
You never let me go, and I hold on tight.
An expression of the deepest truth that finds its way.
Making me pray, and thanking the world for you.
A secret power in our unity.
Stealing this destiny forever.

Scorch

That first emotion that we both betrayed.
Tasting dangling carrots.
Asking for god to let us both in.
Kick this cart and tear the hide.
Let me see you swimming in the night.
In the dark, all cats look grey; and you take me there.
Push me under, watch me sway.
This magnitude, did you invoke or ask for?
Shake my resolve once more to this core.
Dipping me quick, with a turpentine kiss.
Lighting you match, and set my soul on fire.
You know where it burns.
Sizzling in my oceanic heart. Like sulphur from the breath of Lucifer.
Yet you roll me over. Again and again.
Till my teeth ache and drop to the floor.
And my mind blisters.
And the lust festers.
And the earth did open and swallow me whole.

Touch (solitary)

What was there, was always in your reach.
Yet you faded away like you had all of tomorrow.
They never told you it was all your fault.
Conjured excuses like a jaded magician.
Every time.
That time I rose, that Monday afternoon.
While you pulled to the floor like gravity was in your naval.
Onto the floor in the oil and such darkness.
I had to concentrate to escape. Flicking you tongue and tendrils to pull me back.
Screaming words of God being over.
You hurried the end. Touching yourself to death.
Your own fall-apart masturbation. Split bi-polar with your heart and head.
Never loyal, only to your own pleasure zone.
Absent of me, awash in your schizophrenic frenzy.
Your only remedy would be to take more time.
In your thoughts so sublime.

Ghosts behind your smile

The night is so quiet.
All the ghosts are saved. All souls redeemed.
I looked for you there, down by the river.
Washing away your sins.
Washing all over me.
Your eyes catch a glance, all fire and brimstone still.
Flickers of hope and entanglement.
Your reflection quivers, frightened in my tiny hand.
Vast in your stormy sky.
These angles cry for me to let you go.
They know you see. They know.
You are fooled by your own disguise.
(Something now I no longer recognise)
The tectonic shift of love and hate.
As you flee from me.
Escaping yourself and the things you’ve collapsed.
Stripped away and torn from your bones.
Even God wouldn’t even recognise you now.

Meet the maker

Grandma died at a quarter to three.
Right before her cake and tea.
She’d gone to church and prayed like the rest.
Hoped for peace, and always tried her best.
To be like Jesus and love each other.
She even prayed harder for her sick older brother.
Yet it was she God took, that lazy Sunday.
At number 40, in her living room doorway.
Collapsed on the floor, her hands to her chest.
Stricken in pain, nearing the final rest.
For it seemed God had for her a different plan.
Then tea and cake, and the weatherman.
And what is more, it pains me to say.
That Grandma was not even in her twilight days.
For poor Grand Ma Ma was only 70.
And had gone the bathroom to spend a penny.
Yet down she was struck, tripping over her pug.
Smashed her head on the door like a hand to a bug.
It was a silly demise and lacked any dignity.
As she’d glared at the dog before meeting her destiny.
No moments of poise or thoughts of her brother.
Her last action on earth was to exclaim ‘’Mother fucker!’’

Rapture

Tell each tear on my face to go. Never again will I walk alone.
The vacancy in my skull banished, cast out like leapers of ego.
I was toxified and vilified. I was handled in small doses.
Never allowed to bloom, or creep like the wisteria across those hearts.
The gloom and darkness were fed to me. Swallow it down where it would lay hard and heavy within my bones.
Faith was never questioned by me, though others tore it apart.
I knew, looking into those eyes of brown and almond; bliss, it was my awakening.
Moving with delicate sugar powder steps towards knowing. Towards seeing.
Tasting the miracle on my tongue. Sucking it further till honey dripped into my soul.
Miracle making, tasting and refreshing like the rain flooding your eyes shut.
Washing away my January grey.
I am weightless.
Take me now, to the place that you live.
That city eternal. A chorus of worship in my skin.
I need that air so desperately.
Cast under by your thaumaturgy and wonder. I’m paralysed.
Yet my heart is revived by you. By love.