This in now your ascent

These eyes, lost in a lonely perfection.
Surrounded by moon dust and a time burnt away.
Never forget where you came from.
The light that sings inside your bones.
You breathe new life into me.
Washing away yesterday, and a history of pain.
I watch your Pisces rising.
Fixing karma and crawling into fate.
Lay down those thoughts that wrap inside me.
Keeping me protected against those solo winds.
Burn the fortress within, and ascend.
Tipping over this night’s sky.

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.

Gold in the blood

Red rain, falling like sulphur.
Staining the world and the paper people.
Fold, recycle, cut and paste.
A papercut on this heart, opening for the light.
Blow your love into my brain.
Mist my eyes and let me slip into a miasmic dream.
Heady and concentrated.
Addiction is my latest mission.
Feeling you pin prick my fingertips.
You rock, paper, scissor me out.
Winning through with luck and bad taste.
Sending stinging sensations through my blood.
Singing me to sleep with a silent orchestra.
You banish the ghosts from these cobwebbed chasms.
Empty of love and anything bright.
No we dance in the sun, shining like silver and precious stones.
You weigh me down with this gold you shoot into my veins.
Holding me secure, better than gravity, for fear I would float away.

Gossamer touches

Feeling the space, breathing upon a windowpane of pleasure.
Your lips, only an exhale away.
Trapped in a falling dream on golden gossamer thread.
Sticking to me like a forgotten memory.
Lost in the centre of your eyes.
Rush warm sensation.
Mouths intertwined.
A lover’s reflection.
Strung up like dew in the morning light.
Melt me into sunshine with a touch of your skin.
Breathe from within.
Slipping out of my soul while you sleep.
To kneel before the creator, and thank him for your existence.
Here on earth. Here next to me.
Underneath my skin and painting pictures in my mind.
A masterpiece, dripped on a canvas threaded with our DNA.
The brush strokes of the age. The hand of God, guiding our bones.
As we tread through our museum of moments.
We, the only tourist in our time; seeking grand adventure.
Purposely getting lost.

(Half)Empty/Full

A Wounded heart, dying in decompression,
A heart that beats, formed by the cells of God.
This loneliness covers me like a crypt.
A quiet sanctuary for the seeker of stillness.
Blood on my hands and guilt through my bones.
A lesson learned in the guise of judgmental tones.
Tears run like a river of lost moments, damming me into distress.
Tears that rip and free the waves of elation, washing all over me.
Death.
Life.
A bitter end to a dying wounded bird.
Who soared higher than all the others in the sky.

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.

Grace & Josh

It had rained all morning, and a small stream of water now ran down the slope of the playground outside. Miss Carbine stole a look out of the darkened window from the warm classroom to see the water hammering down the pane. She sighed to herself, knowing they would have to have the lunch break inside today. Her class were currently in pairs, going through the text books that she had put out that morning. It wasn’t too big a class, and she was able to manage the five and six year olds reasonably well with her wispy ways and mild manners. They hadn’t yet lost the awe of having a teacher, a special entity there to bestow wonders to them; and many seemed to want to impress still, which she liked.

Grace had been reading her book with Josh, going through the story of Finders the dog and his adventure in the supermarket. She was a good reader, and was able to point out to Josh where she felt he was wrong. Josh was slow, and he didn’t much care for the stupid dog or why it was even in a supermarket. He’d only ever seen one dog there before himself, guiding a man around who couldn’t see. The dog buying cereal seemed dumb to him, and he lost interest quickly and began to pinch Grace as she tried to read. If they had spoken more about the story, Grace would have agreed with Josh. The anthropomorphic antics of Finders seemed stupid to her also, and she did question its applicability to their development, further wondering if Miss Carbine; who was busy checking her phone, had given them the correct course book that morning. But she persevered, and tried to ignore Josh as he pinched her, pushing him away and trying to finish the story for them both.

The rest of the class didn’t seem to have any problems with the book or Finders, indeed some seemed to be enjoying it. Before long though, they had all finished and it was time for lunch. As it would be indoors today, they were allowed to sit on the carpet and have their food. An indoors picnic Miss Carbine suggested, helping them retrieve their lunchboxes from the tidy trays and bags. Grace went to the hallway where her bag was, and retrieved a cup from the side also for some water. Josh had pushed passed her, knocking her into the wall as he attempted to put something down Amanda Hartly’s back. She scowled at him as she steadied herself, a small red mark appearing on her elbow where she’d banged into the wall.

With her lunch and water, Grace sat on the carpet and began to eat. She heard the rain outside their classroom, and watched it drip down the glass like a hose had been aimed at them. Her best friend Michael was not in today, and Miss Carbine had told them he was unwell. She looked at her teacher now, who was helping Robert with his lunchbox that wouldn’t open, missing Michael.

She started to tuck into her own sandwich when she felt water pouring all over her. She momentarily thought the windows had smashed open, the storm breaching the small stronghold their tiny school offered. Then the laughter rose about her, coming strong from behind. Josh stood there, with an empty jug in his hand having poured the contents all over her. His fat face sporting a smile that reached from one chubby cheek to the other.

“Oh, Josh Devonport what do you think you’re doing!” Miss Carbine yelled, stepping the short way across the carpet to where he stood.

“That’s horrible Josh. You’re so mean.” Amy Standhall said, who was sat next to Grace but had escaped the projectile of the water. Grace sat there, the water pooling in her dress as she sat crossed leg. Her sandwich now a sodden, and a cold chill slithered over her body.

“Get over there right now!” Miss Carbine said, ordering the boy away from where the others sat. Miss Carbine, lovely as though she was, was not really prepared for the antics of children. She had the priorities of the situation confused, and though she took action with Josh; she somewhat neglected Grace as she sat there with the water in her knickers and the fat boy laughing on the other side of the room. Amy got Grace to stand up and shake off the water, and she went with her to the bathroom to help her dry off. Grace watched Josh as she left the room, being reprimanded by Miss Carbine, though she doubted he really cared.

A while later Miss Carbine appeared in the bathroom and helped Grace dry off completely, asking her if she was okay and not to worry about her dress; or her lunch for that matter. She would see to it that some food would arrive.

But Grace was no longer hungry. She was wet, and cold and angry at being humiliated.

She returned to the classroom, where everyone had carried on with their lunches. Some of the kids had finished and were playing with the building blocks near the blackboard. Josh had been ordered to get some paper towels, and was mopping up the water that spilt on the floor where Grace had quietly sat waiting to eat her lunch. He smiled at her as she came back into the room.

Teddy Evans came up to her and asked if she was okay, she nodded in reply; thankful that all boys weren’t as horrid as Josh. Miss Carbine whisked herself away to go get Grace some food, despite her protest. While the others played, Grace went to the back of the class where the storage cupboard was. She opened the door quietly and went inside. The small cupboard was stacked high with boxes and games equipment. They weren’t really allowed to go in there on their own, but everything was stored safely and there was no real danger to anyone. Unless you were locked in with the light off perhaps. Grace found what she was looking for quickly, and a few minutes later, slipped out of the cupboard and approached Josh.

“That wasn’t very nice what you did you know.” She said to him, hoping to find remorse there in those brown eyes. Josh scoffed and pushed her away.

“Buzz off. You smell like a wet dog.” He said.

“Aren’t you even sorry for doing what you did?” she asked him, given him one more opportunity to apologise.

“I said buzz off!” He said again, pushing her hard.

Grace stepped back, he eyes burning a hole through him. Then she smiled and said.

“You know, with Miss Carbine away there’s nothing stopping us getting the footballs and tennis balls out of the cupboard and playing sports. Shame we didn’t get to go outside today, huh?” She said, innocently. She knew Josh wasn’t too stupid, but even at her young age she knew how to manipulate certain people. She had said the magic world too, football.

“Why me?” Josh asked, somewhat suspicious.

“Well, they’re on the high shelves aren’t, I can’t reach them.” Grace replied, hoping the seed would manifest in Josh’s stodgy brain.

“Right, outta the way then.” He said, reaching his own conclusion that the break time indoors was dull and kicking a ball around might just be a fun idea. Grace knew Miss Carbine would be returning any minute, but she watched as Josh went over to the cupboard where the sports equipment was and watched him go in.

It seemed that fate was eager to abet Grace that rainy Wednesday while the other kids played in the classroom, and Miss Carbine chatted absently with one of the other teachers by the school kitchen. Once Josh had entered the small cupboard, the sports boxes had tumbled and the lights had gone out; plunging the whole school into darkness. No doubt the storm had downed a power line miles away, knocking the electricity off and unleashing chaos upon the small primary school. But the skipping ropes had found their way around Josh neck in the tumble of the boxes, and when the power had sprang back to life Grace quietly flicked the switched outside the small cupboard which kicked in the extractor fan which resided within, left over from recent renovations when their classroom used to be part of the old bathrooms.

The ropes worked quickly around Josh, tightening hard around his fat little neck. He lifted slightly off his feet, as the light bulb above him blinked in and out, and the ropes choked him into regret.

Grace returned to the others, pretending to be scared by the lights, and the storm. Smiling to herself.

Baptised by you

That endless world they talk of, it opened in my heart.
When you looked at me, with that light in your eyes.
And in that moment, like that pebble in your hand.
You grasped at the infinite, and you consumed my soul.
And we would remain forever bound.
Like that pebble in the ferocious stream.
Washed endlessly by the cosmic current till clean.

Somewhere in this memory

The snow had begun to fall early that evening. Though the sun had long since slumbered down, it was around six o’clock when the few flutters of snow started to whip past his window. Daniel had left the curtain s open like he did most evenings, watching the wild sky drip away beyond the horizon. It had rained lightly that day, and it took a while for the snow flurries to leave any impression on the ground. But as he watched from his small window, his face illuminated by the Christmas lights, he watched as some people came out of their houses to investigate the snow. A few kids ran about under the street lights, already bunching up snow into cold balls to throw at one another. It was shame, Daniel thought to himself, that Christmas had passed already and the snow had waited until after. Another bleak grey day that offered only the magic of the season than from the endless possibilities of the weather.

He went to the kitchen and made himself a spiced tea. The smell of cinnamon and spices hung in the air, warm and inviting. He then went into the main room to where the Christmas tree was, sipping the tea which burnt his lip. He’d put it up alone this year, the first time the ceremony had ever been performed that way. He looked at the huge golden bell that sat a top of the tree; sparkling, like everything else did, in the strung Christmas lights that dotted the place. He couldn’t remember ever buying that bell, yet it appeared every year to tip the tree they always had. He sighed and placed his tea down, pulling one of the boxes towards him. He hated taking the tree down, or the Christmas decorations. As a child he’d always pleaded to his parents to keep them up longer. But they were bound by the laws of the season and the far away court, and all the decorations had to be down by the twelfth night. Why? No one could ever tell him, that was just how it was. Yet this was how things were now, every year it seems. Him, alone taking down the very things that were put up to enliven his life if only for a few weeks.

He started to take off some of the ornaments, some of which he remembered putting on the tree even as a child. These must be so old he thought suddenly; vaguely aware of his own decent now into adulthood. His phone began to hum into life nearby, but he ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood to argue again, and that’s the only thing that phone was offering to him this evening. He placed some of the baubles carefully into their homes, snug in a box that would keep them safe for another year. He turned up the music he had playing, his new tradition; Christmas songs to ring out in the stripping of the tree. In a way, such a violating act. The trauma of the season. He hummed along to some of the carols, there religious message washed away now he thought in the progression of the years. He felt old, and tired. Like his youth had slipped away without him even noticing it. He might as well be boxing up his memories instead of these decorations, freezing all he ever wanted and all he dreamed off in these magical days of Christmas. Spun up like candied sugar and placed away safely, to be removed once a year along with his heart.

He sat down on the rug, patches of glitter peppered the tufts still from the wrapping paper that had been destroyed last week. He closed his eyes as the choir music filled the room, taking him to a place in his memory. He watched as his younger self ran down the stairs, eager to see if Father Christmas had been. His parents, holding hands and smiling as they watched their children tear at the presents that had been carefully placed hours before beneath the silver Christmas tree. Though the tree was fake, over time it had faded and fallen apart, much like the marriage and the moments he now saw in his mind. The presents, along with this love within the family had been torn apart and forgotten about. Thrust up each year like some special spectacle. Packed away when all were done.

His phone rang again, bringing him back. He opened his eyes and looked at his phone on the table, lighting up and convulsing in an epileptic dance. He ignored it again and went back to the tree to finish off. The lights were always the trickiest. It was easier with someone helping, and fun too he thought as he remembered how they had joked around putting the lights over one another, pretending they were trees. The time when one of the fuses had gone and the whole house had been plunged into darkness, not before the sparks had succeeded in frightening them both. Lights were always a pain to put away, but he resigned himself that it would be another year before he had to worry about them, and balled them into the old shoebox he kept; sealing the lid and the doom of the lights till next year. The rest of the decorations found their way into boxes relatively quickly, only a few things were placed around his small house as it was. He nearly forgot about the wreath on the door, only remembering it when he glanced outside to see how the snow was. It had come down pretty heavy now and he thought about going for a walk later when he was finished to enjoy the winter landscape.

He finished his tea and snatched up his phone, looking at the missed calls. He sent a message quickly and then stood back looking at the barren tree, back now to its natural coat. They usually had a fake tree, but this year they had gone for the real thing. It stood now, just a hair smaller than him, shedding pine needles below itself like some defecating potted creature.  He closed his eyes and could smell the aroma of the tree, the fading pine of a dying spirit. He wondered where it had grown, what bird or beast had called it home in the time it grew to its seasonal perfection. To be adorned and beheld for a few weeks only to then be thrust out with the other junk of the season, left to decompose in the street awaiting to be whisked away to somewhere out of sight. In that moment he saw the death and cruelty of Christmas. How things were cherished, only for the moment, then forgotten about and placed away. His phone nearby rung a reply, and he glanced at the preview from where he stood. A small tear appeared, and rolled down his cheek, the air leaving his lungs before a gasping inhale.

Daniel went to the french doors and cast them both ajar dramatically. The cold winter wind swept into the room, and some snowflakes fell onto his carpet. He snatched up the tree by the middle trunk and took it out into his garden. His bare feet sank deeply into snow that had settled already, but Daniel did not care. He went back inside and picked up matches that rested by the Christmas candles. He returned back to the garden and struck three matches at one time, letting the oxygen breathe life into the flame. He threw them onto the tree and lit some more. The snow whipped around both him and the tree, but eventually the flames took and it began to burn. Flames licking the innards of the branches as he stood in the snow that numbed his feet. Drifting from his living room, ‘O Holy Night’ lifted into the air and encased them in that moment. Frozen for that blink in the eye of god.

 

Lightning in a bottle

And the voices they whisper.
The dominant ones scream.
Climbing the walls of my skull. That grand display.
A sea awash with chemical dependence.
Slipping into the sublime. Causing me to stutter.
Push you a little further they chime.
Pull back another step into the nothingness they call.
These voices whisper in my head, licking me with novocaine.
Their mouths a slather for the honey I swallow.
Hard jagged pills, set to simmer in the stomach of my soul.
Too many channels, trying to trip my station.
This lighting in my head, it’s like bottled bolts.
Smashing again and again against the glass in my mind.
A perfect storm of self suspicion.
And who here is paranoid? Who would ever admit?
For to raise your hand, well that makes them come after you.
And though I would slip once again into that nightmare of reality.
A smile would slip out, knowing I was right all along.

Cellophane

This picture of you, drawn out of such a moment in time.
Chiselled out of the clouds and into my eye.
I reached inside of myself, only to find you there.
Setting up a place for us.
A home, deep within the fathoms of my uncertainty.
Placing sticks and rugs over deep old wounds.
Silently you swell.
Sweetly you settle.
Patching holes and broken pieces of the past.
I radiate out a pulse, searching for something to slip away into.
But I’m up strung up in you willowed reaches.
Your horizoned heart.
Your memory beaches.
Ultimately I relinquish and peel off my skin.
The fuselage of fear splinters away and we brace for impact.
Washing ashore of this Elysium dream.

Coconut ice & candied eyed

These thoughts entertain me, for the hundredth time this week.
Dropping into my mind like pennies into a well.
I swing between actioned and complacent.
As you swing me back to forth in time.
This pendulum of your love.
Happy in the tinsel of us you deck me in.
Yet unrequited feelings of doubt then crawl in like a frost.
No doubt blossoming at Christmas time.
Fearful of the joy you offer.
Mindful of my usual self-destructiveness.
I cover you in cotton wool and hide you in the Christmas stocking.
Away from the mice and my thoughts of decay that would nibble away at you.
These hungry moths in my mind.
I swallow these feelings down.
Learning to live; not for tomorrow, but in the moment here with you.
Biting off only as much as I can chew.
As I wash away the taste of my usual foot.
Let me substitute for sweet candied swells.
Catching in my soul like coconut shavings.
Licking you clean of the sugar you must be covered in.
Savouring the delicious center of your love.

Hold on to me

Our task is to transform ourselves into awakened multidimensional beings.
Thus fully merging the fourth and fifth dimensions into the third.
It is the inner union between Earth ascending and Heaven descending.
This sacred merger has already been achieved by many of us.
And numerous others are awakening daily as the Call steadfastly intensifies.
We are reclaiming our Divine Birthright and Heritage.
Remembering that we are Angels incarnate, vast starry beings of Light
who are no longer limited and bound by the illusions of time, space and matter.

We are ready to join as emanations of the One.
The new doorways cannot be opened or passed through,
by any of us still operating as individual beings of consciousness
They are brought into manifestation through our Unified Presence.
Through our focused intent.
Through our total commitment to serving our Higher Purpose.
This is the bridge to an entirely different energy patterning.
It is the step beyond the known dimensional universe.
It is a journey into the unknown which shall lead us ever closer to home…..

‘Hold on to me’ – By Placebo

Auspices

Candied appled smiles that dapple this heart.
Pulling the pieces back from the deep lagoon.
Resetting them like a Picasso in reverse.
Hope is irresistible, dancing on my fingertips like butterflies.
After years suffering those gloomy caterpillars.
Fresh Artic water rushes my soul.
Cleansing all that had rotten within.
Funnel down this love into me, fill me up with the golden light.
Can you see the truth in this statement?
A tinnitus ting-sha in my eyes as I consult the i-Ching.
This heartache is wavering.
Threatening to collapse while strength begins to blossom in the cracks.
Cotton candy turns over this dusty broken soul.
Lighting tiny lamps in my heart for love to follow.

Tangle and vines

I don’t want to go there anymore.
The ivy lattices up my eyes.
And the night is too dark.
Please take this hand.
Side steps the pools and the pitfalls.
These things that never mean to hurt you.
Those beasts in the hedges with eyes so wild.
I’m sorry for what they did.
Trying to squeeze love from you.
This hurt doesn’t change a thing.
Ripped from your flesh and allowed you too tumble.
Falling out of that perfect dream.
Tangled up in the vines that leaked from me.
Spun from the forest of regret.
Sit now, let me lick your wounds by the brook.
Make a splint from broken branches and apologies.
Counting tears like satellites in your eyes.
Taking me away.
Catching reasons like clouds as they float by.
Take this vanishing  hand.
As I depart from the noise and the sorrow.
Departing this earth.
With your smile in my mind.
The only memory I’m keeping

A Silent chorus

Inside the hollow, deep within.
Inside this heart that stutters.
Rests a reason, surrounding in a rhyme.
Thought lost for all time.
Yet dwelling quietly, silently; covered in light.
Awaiting the day sweet rains wash over it.
Like saliva on a tongue. Throbbing with such intent.
To lick away all malcontent, and chorus and ring the new dawn.