Metempsychosis process

Stop the clocks and burn the books.
Too many reasons and motives.
Give me something I can now believe in.
To peel off my bones and to rest upon my heart.
Take us back to the start.
Gather up the pieces of the broken.
Pulled down marbled statues of the gods of ourselves.
Diminish and restore. Re-surge and adore.
The tiny copper heart. The china cupped girl.
Things that can be stored in the cupboard of god.
Sprinkled with spice and the nectar of the familiar.
Don’t talk to me now of being alone.
Hold the tongue that speaks of a frozen heart.
Thaw on my brain and melt into mecca.
A shiny version of you.

Intertwined

Our souls so pure they all align.
Separated only by thoughts and time.
Which hold a love that extends to all.
Who reign above, or those who fall.
And do not let the world go dark.
But ignite the hope within each spark.
This alchemy that turns hate to kind.
Our lives, our world, all intertwined.

You stopped the rain

What becomes of all of us?
Down in the depths, floating on the sea of time.
Who pulls us back? Who throws the ropes of salvation?
She dwelled long and lonely under the waves.
Wrinkling into memory as the salt clogged her bones.
But the dreams wouldn’t fade like a dying star.
The hope threaded around her heart like roots of a tree.
New lips breathed the life back into her.
Tomorrow’s soul and eternity’s hand.
Raised her from her watery grave.
Covering her in love and picking away the scabs of sorrow.
She smiled and laughed as they ignited within the pilot fire.
Which shifted fate, and scared the fish.

Mountains

Mountains. As far as the eye can see.
Snow-capped pillars reaching to prick God’s finger.
Hue away the mountainside, take the flesh away from the monster.
Are we rocks if we separate, or still part of that hill?
That unmovable Olympus staining my life’s sky.
Mountains shift and quake when you tremble.
Pushing me further, higher and stronger.
Cutting off the air that warms and suffocates these lungs.
This horizon bleeds a new tomorrow.
Sinking into these weary bones of today.
I do not long for flat plains or tempered air.
This challenge of life hits hard where it needs to.
The frigid terrain, freezing the sweat and blood on my fingertips.
Making me feel each breath that squeezes out at altitude.
Forcing me to look back and see how far I’ve come.
Planting flags in view, no longer in quicksand.
Lofty and up high, as my ego sinks below.
Waiting to ring in the new day, thousands of feet above yesterday’s malaise.
Mountains. All around where this eye roams.
Sealing in nothing but change.

Shift kiss

Take your hand off your eyes. See the sky above ignite.
Do not fall down into that soily grave alone.
Holding the hands of no-one.
Let the universe pulse in your veins.
Feel a fresh kiss of heroin as you save a life.
Save your own.
Communicate and reverberate this feeling.
Coursing and freewheeling.
Tumbling off of each kiss you give.
Each smile that slips into the dark.
To light the shadows like roman candles.
Let your galaxy slide into view.
Forget the hue of distrust and knee jerk distaste.
Taste me now. Let me in.
Strip way that cotton shell you’re living in.
Drink. Dive. Repeat.
Do not even give it a name.
Feel the ebb and flow as the old world shatters.
Sink into a sunbeam, radiating a love for everyone.
A neighbour, a lover.
A god in another skin.
Look within.

Reverse back to tomorrow

I travelled down that road, only to get lost again.
Trying to get back again.
If I meet you there, I apologise; I would’ve failed.
Seeing the destruction in your eyes.
A strength you needed was not coursing through this DNA.
The magic in my makeup was only to enable disappearance.
To be made of steel, with golden wings.
Would be a tale for another time, and another version of me.
These signs that I pass, trying to be born again; or to shift the paradigm.
Tell me not of where I am headed, or where I have gone.
They only illuminate where I should already be.
Holding out for tomorrow to be different today.

Pepper and papaverine

Keep my image in your head.
As your bruises turn to yellow.
As the pain subsides and the chaos falls down.
Your post-blue tiptoe through the poppies.
Licking the petals as they brown in the sun.
The cold light of morning blankets us both.
Glittering off broken promises and the whisper of regret.
We turn our world for another rotation around the central star.
Angels waiting to tear inside you.
Reparative cells bonding with my inclination.
To heal you and us, in a milky star shaped pool.
Pick the debris out of your mind and take my hand.
These explosions you are seeing, they are only clouds of uncertainty.
A falling disease, defeated by love and the heart that we call our home.
Hang you head to the side and listen.
These sweet words of supple saltitude, savouring the sublime.
Triggering happy thoughts and novocaine in our minds.
Wash it down. Sweat it out.

Unchained symphony

And she landed, a million miles from where she begun.
By the setting sun.
Casting its long shadow over a dying beast.
A monster of misogyny and inequation.
Scratching the head of those scholared men.
Who wrote the rule book, who watch now as it burns.
Sending their eyes to fire and ashes towards the deep.
A sinking ship of the unrighteous, captain rats going down with their pride.
She thinks of them not, as she stretches over oceans and space.
Checking in the borrowed time of her mother’s generation.
Her grandmother’s tenacious hope, that all will be put right.
Twitch your ears, and soar your spirit into the unknown.
Liberated from the yoke of self-doubt.
Tired of walking on egg shells.
She can be found, if you care to look.
Out on the rocks, away from the lighthouse.
Far from the maddening crowd, holding tight.
Covered in jewels and perspiration.
Forging a new world for those yet to be.

Lost in gravity

Touch the sky, feel it shake.
Trembling in your hands like fragility.
Sweet feathered blue expanse.
The planets collide and shatter, raining down on your skin.
I lick them up. Following the line up to your universe of lips.
This satellite orbiting you.
Feeling the cracks and crater within me that you foster.
Dipping my scars in ink.
Holding them forever in that back drop of the space between us.
Lost in the black void of the unknown.
And yet there is light, there are flickers from God.
The Darwinian emergence of the hope that crawls, like me towards you.
Wiping the DNA and moon dust across your face as I whisper;
I am just like you.

Arboretum of the mind

Those words they buried.
The thorny ones with discontent.
Maligned manners from blackened hearts.
They rotted in my mind.
In that grey earthy soil.
Those tears they watered.
Digging down deep to the black pit of my soul.
Like potatoes which found the light.
Deep in the dark such acorns of defiance sprouted.
Filling my bones with vines and life.
So now I prune, and potter.
I bask in the shade of a cooling tree.
That borne within me.
My arboretum of solitude.
My tree of life with bark as tough as nails.
And leaves that never turn, despite the season.
Or the early winter you threaten.

Remembering myself

These days wash through me like the rain.
As this greying world fades.
Earth descending. Blurring off on the horizon.
The winter chill lingers over my future like an old man’s grip.
Choking me into anonymity.
Freezing the hope in my lungs.
How many times must I travel to the lighthouse?
Climbing the rocks that make my feet and heart bleed.
Insurmountable despondency. Wrapped in a sold version of existence.
The reins and remains of the day fall loose in my palm.
Sweating in the fear of losing all I have, and all I will ever be.
Clocking the years as they hurry through me like ghosts on a train.
Feeling like a stranger in my own life.

A dream in your world

Come stay with me, come down in time.
Let me hold you now.
Another minute to breathe.
Wrapped in the echoes of your sleep,
and the diamond reasons of eternity.
I spin a thread around us.
A salted circle of trust that the world won’t shake.
Or break.
Spun in gold and truthful titbits of reality.
As we bounce off the clouds of convention.
Barefoot on the dusty moon.
Don’t blink too soon.
Take me in and breathe me out.
Pull me over you like a sweater.
I will keep you warm when the world rains upon on us.
When the thunder rolls and you cover your eyes.
I won’t let them hold you down.
These are not times for freedom or carelessness.
And these are not treacled words that pool in your ears.
This is a truth cut from my heart, and squeezed out of necessity.
Thrown in the face of the fear of losing what we have.
A halo around your heart.
Something out of nothing,
My luggage of love, dropped on your doorstep.
Waiting to be unpacked.
Somewhere in California.

The Gospel of no-one

Be careful of those who open their diamond hands.
Chewing opium smoked souls and offering hearts.
These will be those closest to you.
Forgive them, we know not what we do.
Swimming in the sin of a century.
Crawling once more on the back of time.
A miseducation of things once told.
Scratched on tablets, ground down like baby teeth.
But the skies won’t fall.
And though walls grow tall we strengthen our desire.
To avoid smashing galaxies and fragile pieces of others.
Every time you try to be what they expect, the honey sting;
the disdainful look of Lucifer drops all that is tired.
We become more inspired.
And make way for the inevitable bliss.
In Zion.

Contract & construct

That reason we all had for being there.
Through shared DNA and the tears of Jesus.
Waiting for the smoke to clear and the dust to settle.
Yet deep inside a fire burns.
Turning all to ashes and cleansing from within.
Who do you ask forgiveness off?
As you hand across a world that is riddled with pain.
What did you blame as you clung to indifference?
When the world darkened as black as the night.
But do not drown in this consequence.
Or be blown away in this havoc.
It maybe all borrowed time, but it’s ours to own.
And the rest is still unwritten.

Freedom is a privilege

Did you remember, or were you hoping to forget?
Underneath this skin, brown and course like the worked route.
That strange fruit.
Was red and wet.
What were you hoping for, a different kind of history?
One without me. Without such pity.
Look back in disgust if you must.
But these strong roots have grown from that toil.
Of being in place that we should never have been.
Never being seen.
If we spin the past and tip it over.
Reverse the world and replace colour with white.
How would you have felt with the blood on your shoulders?
And not on your hands, as you sleep at night.
Under this skin, of white and of brown.
In the bones that register no preference for colour.
That break on impact, and hearts that hurt all the same.
And as this world grows again much darker, and fear and hate find new friends.
Extend your hands, and reach for any colour palm.
And fight once again for freedom.

Sending myself flowers

When the universe rests, and slumbers in my mind.
And all around me is still.
I take this chance to apologise.
For who I have become. For who I wanted to be.
An apology for me.
Within these cracks and slithers of my soul.
That remain unfettered to moral decay.
I brush the hurt away. And send myself flowers.
Hoping to turn over those leaves, and find you.

Death to Cinderella

Back then and when, and add some more.
Young Stacey Tyler was only four.
Though good at math, and loved to read.
It was baby dolls she sadly received.
All pretty in pink, with a matching dress.
That fit young Stacey, her parent’s princess.
Feed and change that plastic thing.
Clean up after it, no time to sing.
That was left for Sleeping beauty.
It’s Cinderella that’s your call of duty.
Be pretty, be quiet and wait to be saved.
Forget independence, or being so brave.
For that will be your stories’ end.
No adventures after, no lovers or friends.
Give your man a home and then a child.
With smiles for him, well-mannered and mild.
Subservient is the way to be.
Come now Stacey, copy me.
Her mother had cooed from before she could remember.
Trophied on a pedestal, her brain now a dying ember.
But Stacey, though four, knew better than this
And knew there were things that she didn’t want to miss.
She didn’t really care for babies or bottles.
It was Dr. Seus she craved, and even Aristotle.
To save her from her mother’s fate.
Of giving birth and gaining weight.
Stacey pledged that very day.
To speak up and out, and have her say.
Out with the pink and the notions of gender.
A determined mind, and a heart so tender.
And that is why, with thirty years spent.
Little Stacey is running to be president.

Sleep will wait

And all these little thoughts, the ones that take you away;
will rest on my shoulders, like your head full of flowers.
Heavy and soft.
Those airplane moments, in transit between these states.
Will come down in time, and wait.
Rose coloured sheets, and trouble ahead the neon threatens.
Unless I’m me. Unless this is us.
Safe and worth coming home to.
Such original sensualities. Laughing over sexuality.
Kisses over cornflakes and coffee cups.
If you need time, I don’t mind. I like where this is heading.
Risking, and whisking me away as you hold onto this.
Tied up in ribbons of joy that we walk between, as we walk over;
sheets of snow and sun kissed wonder.
Goodbye foolish fear. So long picesaen uncertainty.
Adieu gemini fairy tales done before.
Take my hand and dance with me on the tip of this strange lunar day,
flying high above the earth in black feathers.
A place which we must return but where sleep can wait.

Beautifully damaged

Don’t look back, breathe.
Keep your head above the water.
Isolate these moments of joy.
Encase them in glass forever and hang them for the world to see.
You and me.
Beautifully damage.
Teetering on the inevitable as we dance around the possible.
Your hand in mine, your bones locked into a heartbeat.
The tick, after tock of this borrowed time.
If the world ached and sighed, changing in a blink of an eye.
If a plane were to fall on us, from that jet black sky.
Would we exhale into regrets, or smile at all that had been?
Take this hand again, and follow me into the unknown.
Head held high like your mother taught you.
Eyes as beautiful as the day you were born.
Damaged and delighted at
being
here
now.

Repossess as repose

It’s too bad that all the fairy tales died.
As you chase the dragon in your own mind.
Round and round you go.
Cutting yourself and soaking your shoes.
From a distance you see this all for what it is;
just a speck on a sphere hurtling through space.
A blink in the eye of God.
Where is the echo of paradise?
Ringing in your mind like a long forgotten song.
Come down and rest a while, at the banks of this land.
Let the witches and wicked fight among themselves.
The lovers and liars who are on the brink of it all.
Hold on as we swirl, faster through a cosmic system.
Dropping all Cinderella tendencies and thoughts of being saved.
As you speed into the unknown, to save yourself.
Sweet princess of your own night.