The Flowers of revolution

Have you seen?
God’s opportunity.
Inside psalms which scratch your heart.
Voices so strong they stabilise heaven.
Disappear and discover that new challenge.
Which calls you higher.
You remember the way I fell.
I remember your outstretched healing hands.
It’s my only reference point now.
Blooming the songs and suspicions in my mind.
How could you be so sincere?
This imagination comes alive and shakes me.
My snow globe mind.
And in mind of my defence, I used to not believe.
Your simple kiss changed that.
And shook me deep.
These flowers I now weep.

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Broken blossoms

Heady vacant leaves blow in from the past.
Caught in the teeth of wisdom.
The coldness of a touch, when war has begun.
Leaves all but the strong shaking.
A flattening of houses and trust that was built.
Crumbling and grumbling in the ruins of despair.
Who takes you there?
To the banks of a river now black like tar.
Awash with the rubbish and junk of petty squabbles.
This fighting is good for only the undertaker.
Who buries our souls and dignity at night.
When no-one is watching to see the sad failure of hope.
A scab of regret will build and tower over this land;
this heart, and this space we’ve placed ourselves in.
The devil lines the walls with sickly cement of apathy.
Only god can peel it back and flick away the decay.
Letting the scars heal in the light and air of tomorrow.
As we bathe in holy water and the tears of trying.

Turning blue

Why is my world painted red?
No home, no hope, no heart.
Cast on a raft headed to the end.
Your vermilion tongue spits these thoughts.
A fever and the fakery that expands.
Yet these lies break in my hands.
And the hope swims beneath.
Blue and enticing. Like the ocean in god’s eyes.
A Sweet expanse of blue.
And nothing like you.

London burning

Heavy scented air, the smell of ash and autumn.
Of change brimming like a supernova.
To watch only, yet still participate; leaves me shaking.
That blood on the sky, smeared into a ruby rose.
It stains my eyes and heart.
I watch as London burns with a fire of sadness.
Of a past ignited into nothingness.
But I’m not looking for someone to blame.
Those flames lick like a consequence that is buried deep in my hands.
Red and scorched like god’s eyelashes.
Choking out the hope and happiness.
It rages on, bringing ruins to our appetites.
Finally snuffed out by huge holy tears.

Desert eyes

To walk the sands of time, to find the doorway to heaven.
Leaves me breathless.
You put your hands on this skin, and I succumb.
Unabated astral movements behind my eyes.
To know you from somewhere, is to feel you under my skin.
As my blood crashes down the sand dunes on the walls of my heart.
I left you, and found you there.
Waiting for me where the moon sinks and threatens never to return.
With honey wine still on your kiss, I will not function.
I slip into another consciousness.
Walking in a dream that quivers on god’s fingers.
Kiss me from drying, and wake me once more.
Let me disappear into your arms that comfort me like a blanket against desert cold.
And I will wash these tears away in the pools of your eyes.
That offer such sweet safety swims, to the desert floor.

Crumbling god

Swollen like a great regret.
In time, the struggle will fade to a new trauma.
You’re lost to him now.
Broken in too many places.
A mutual core of suffering that bruises one another.
Is up to you? (It never was).
Grave disappointment wiped across his eyes.
And still you decided.
To enter the church.
Coughing against the incense and nonsense.
And allow him to pray once more.
It’s not up you (It never was).
To answer their prayers.
To save him.

Problematic providence

The least I can do is, is to rip this skin off.
To strip the bones of the sinful wrapping.
Do you know, it is your body I wish to devour?
Sampling chunks of Christ to purify.
Oh my god, do you know what waters run underneath.
Holy and polluted, waiting to be washed by biblical floods of love.
Yet to detest all of it seems wasteful, for thou art in your image.
An image which feels like a memory.
Do you feast on me? Do you drink my blood?
How sacred is the house that sits on such rocky promise.
A church in the corner of the room where the shadows dwell.
Thy kingdom to come home to, when the world drives me out.
With each act of contrition, with each prayer I mumble.
Wanting, hoping, begging to be like you.
I sink and think, swimming in your brilliance, drowning in your light.
Wondering perhaps, if I am already my own messiah.

Play dead

She lay there, with a bullet in her heart.
A world away.
A smile apart.
Reaching and tempting the heavens down.
A shuttering shame.
Like tears on a clown.
For there never was a heart at all.
No righteous tumble.
Or martyred fall.
Or even a god to share the pain.
Just empty prayers.
A messiahic shame.
For all these things played out in her head.
So she lay there silently.
Playing dead.

Sarcastic Simon says

Which parade set table are we dressed for?
Candy stars and sweet honey lemonade?
Goldfish trapped in tiny jars.
Blind me now, let’s play charades.
Cheating on the life we try to lead.
Hide and seek with death.
But such a sad face he always wears.
Covering us in black and liquorice lace.
Come skim the jellybean stones with me.
Jump the sugared rocks over the pool of irresponsibility.
We can talk to god at the end.
We can ask him how it went, and whether our game was fun.
Come on, come on!

Mother

Out of the dark, like a Pisces rising.
The ship of salvation on this sanctified horizon.
Oh mother, why do those tears of glass never shatter?
Who wipes away those beads when the world turns over?
We hum the hymns in a frantic manner.
Coughing up rosaries like pearls from the sea.
Yet a pain in your heart vibrates underfoot.
Quaking the earth and displacing my faith.
Not in you, oh mother, the salvation in my sadness.
But in a world I find as sticky as tar, and dark as oil.
Resistant to your holy water.
Tis such vanity I make your image so beautiful.
Mirroring the love I have for my mother of body.
The one I share cells with.
Divine DNA.
So I roll my eyes back, and taste the pain away.
Losing your son.
As impotent as God to intervene in fate.
And I pray, and kiss your blessed feet.
Giving up the holy image in my mind.
Loving you for the first time,
as someone who I always knew.

Reaching roots

How deep do these roots need to burrow?
While the wind of the world shakes and batters.
Down deep, past dinosaur bones and bits of myself.
Long forgotten memories and names no longer remembered.
Roots of strength, yet they strangle the small and struggling.
Little sprouts of new dreams which begin deep in the dark of my soul.
Waiting, for just the tiniest flash of light.
Yet the roots need to be strong.
For it’s much further to go on.
And this tree is desperate to reach up to heaven.

Interrupted Sleep

You sleep the soundest with gritted teeth.
Chocking on the chalk.
Swallowing the lies.
Silently sweating out the guilt that pools,
soaking your soul.
Such violent awakenings.
The disgust of the nights awake to your dirty days.
Paralysing the angel that hovers in your bones.
Do you talk the loudest to god?
Who really listens?
Where does the devil take you to punch at your dreams.
Shattering the road of good intentions.

Docked in dry sand

How can we be close to God?
When the anger flows. Corroding inside out.
Does God bleed like me, with a fire in the veins?
Turning the petals of penitence to ash.
The devil can just read my mind.
Slipping underneath in the night like a snake under the doorway.
Yet I know I left the door ajar.
And a candle lit, to light the way.
We have wings, yet we walk through the desert of the day.
Complaining over each grain of sand we find.
And the pebbles of people in our shoe.
Hardening our skin to a lesser sin.
A dehydrated delirium takes me.
And these wings grow frail and dry.
And even though we try, we may never sail the ocean skies again.

My Divine pageant

With all this sin that stains my bones.
And a history I cannot hide.
Beholds a life I’ve always known.
Asking to look inside.
For deep within this heart that beats.
Full of oil and the light divine.
Speaks a connection that’s bittersweet.
Of God and I, intertwined.
For though I do deeds that make him weep.
Sometimes those tears are joy.
And though I practise not what he may preach.
His forgiveness I doth employ.
For I’m everything, the good and typical.
Holy particles and hurt maligned.
And I offer, and ask a love unconditional.
All parts, and all the time.

ANT EMPIRE

Discovered by mistake, that breaking heart hidden under the couch.
Locked in the cupboard.
Buried beneath the earth.
And if it broke, and if I died; what world is left behind?
A towering empire of loose threads.
Pulled at many moments in a life undone.
Towering up to god, my shaking finger of Babel.
Crying out in many tongues to a deaf creator.
The holder of my heart.
These racing rats and spiders which crawl over me at night.
What a sight, it is to see a hollow mind explode inside out.
My little world of mistakes, dew drops to effort.
A treasured time where the earth held still.
And I held my breath, for you looked inside.
And watered my garden.
Tended to the flower that had crawled away from the sun.
My tiny empire, rebuilt by the one.

Orbiting the future

This space I’m caught within.
Where there’s no beauty in such sadness.
Hewn from the rocks and chiselled out of time.
Copper bones that bend to an autumn song.
The creeping winter that will come.
Round and round like a circle.
Memories eating each other’s tale.
Imprinted in carbon like life’s fingerprints.
A sorrowful scratch in god’s vacant eye.
But within, a sound of escape.
Roaring into a new dawn.
Too big for the cavern it once called home.
Chasing the future and creation.
Hoping to prove both wrong.

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.