The ship has sailed, but the sea lingers
Her fingers still fondle my timbers
The spine kindles like tinder.
Blocks shading the so-called rub of the green, my heart beats turn to cinders
When I look into the future and remember I kiss my present with the question.
Why does the sea linger?
Watching a Father losing his son in front of his eyes.
Seeing the screams barricade his heart in the name of strength
Like the last drop of water rung from a spun load
A tear fell
Traffic stopped, my eyes gazed sky wards
Watching my Father like a worn watch
Praying for time, wondering what will happen when
There’s a first time for everything they say
He hugs me now with more strength than he ever disciplined me with
We are old friends that once were foes
It’ll soon be time for me to complete the circle
I hope we can hula hoop, if but for a moment
Though some stone him, his shoes I have grown in
Shunning the shade of shalom with my mother’s tongue
I am my Father’s son,
Enlightened I wonder when that which will be has come
Will I be bound or free
Torn between his life and my existence
A little boy lost
There are moments when you wonder
What’s going on with me?
When it seems that the world is moving in a direction and though movement and change don’t phase you, how you feel about it does.
Where your reflections become memories of happiness never created.
When the idea of building anew seems better than improving what you have.
Why have a tattoo when you can use biro and pencil.
When the music that once made you euphoric now stiffens you in purgatorial placidity.
If what is wrong with me, is me, what can I do?
Do my eyes fail?
Is the clearest figment of my vision that I’m shortsighted?
What would I throw away to gain?
Is this the me that got away or am I living to tell tales?
Is my colour of love beyond the pale?
If desire is a palindrome, do I really love my reflection on love?
If love is really selfless do I lose image to gain an identity?
Apprehensively, two halves don’t make a whole but there are holes in where it starts and ends with me.
If love is a learning contract that allows you to amend terms.
Why do many burn with many degrees?
If purpose, humility, desire are the PhD, is love lost if “I” is missing?
Isn’t love the ultimate hunter?
There are times when we respond I’d love to.
IS that selfless or selfish?
Can I love live among a barrel of shellfish?
If love is so strong, is it our resistance to it that leaves us dented?
There are times when your heart is crossing a bridge suspended between where you are and where you’re meant to be.
Every step you take pensively towards this unconditional until you’re un-conditioned
To be one conditioned is a choice that I struggle with.
That’s why I’m sharing me, with you.
Cracks in the ground and nobody gets high
Sleeping with your troubles, its the way lovers lie
Pad, locked my heart so I’m docked at quay side
Wondering if my Indian summer’s with the crop of Teesside
Is it called falling in love if your choice reveals pride
If I’m not proud what am I?
My understanding is an overseer
Is it over, here?
Gut instincts are what I over hear
Cracks in the ground like woven tears
Colourful dreams become monochrome pastures
Moth bitten messages of hope become wounds
Fears like unexploded mines in a crowded room become the music
Shall we dance?
Around subjects like Maypoles we can find new steps
If one foot is out of time and breath, should we stop?
Cracks in the ground for toe stubs and back rubs
The harvest is silence and shoulder shrugs
What are we lying for if they only bed bugs?
A good operating system can be its own anti virus
If the foundations are of stone and papyrus, why aren’t we purple or violet?
All these reports are defiling, weakness is defining, it’s blinding.
Give a partially sighted man a diamond, he’ll still find a way to refine it.
It takes more than shine to find the reason behind the rhyme.
We play uno until that card’s declined
We’ve got to give a joint account of cracks in the ground
If nobody’s getting high where can the fire be found?
Are we blowing smoke just to keep the peace?
Have we had a stroke?
What’s the canvas?
Have we a golden fleece to reflect a value increase?
Is one eye blinkered?
Is transition to a vision that isn’t rose tinted hindering?
Can you hear a storm tinkling,
Will you look it in the eye and wink at it
Is there really joy to be found?
Did you know there’s cracks in the ground?
Ignore them for the sake of the grace in which we are found
If nothing ever changes, potentially we’ll drown
All because we never listened for the cracks in the ground.
I’ve been that over zealous Casanova
My supernova’s sleeping on me
Now the flow’s diluted with copious suspicion
Can Jesus still save me if I abort this mission?
I screen time hoping my fears stop watching me
I need those collard greens to replenish my pasture
I’m pastoring my reasoning, preaching prosperity to my pondering
Drowning in the flood of next steps
I am the last breath of a frog prince
The kiss of death may be my only hope
If resurrection is for believers am I agnostic?
I’m weaving memorials with prophecy like a cross-stitch
Cull me or crown me, I’ll live or learn what loss is
I am a badger calling a spade a spade in a game of hearts
I’m on a bored walk hoping cupid can re-tip that dart
I am 180 degrees of honesty on reflection so I know in part
I impart jewels of liberation like engagement rings through inception
Is the kiss of death classed as a public sign of affection?
If so I’m collecting autographs hoping to sell them to the highest bidder
Storage wars rumble on and if I lose I’m a sinner, if I win I’m a saint
Without honour in defeat there’ll be a new past to date
So I watch and wait for that one six o’ eight
Lost and alone
Dog with a bone
The reflection has shaken me
Stirring my mojo into a molotov
I burn with indecision
Happy moments stolen like penny sweets
What am I buying?
Finding fallacies in forever
Planning orchards, cursing thorns
Am I alive until the death of a rose?
Turbulence framed as trivial recruiting
Meteoric melancholia manifests
Poker handshakes and chess kisses
Clandestine hope in bloom resides
Indifference wrestling lasts another round
Lost and alone in deeper waters
The tide of good fortune is in
Chewing all that rests before me
Standing to ponder the scale of my win
I am now
I am what was, which became what is
The hypotenuse to a multitude of hypotheses
With confidence, my image is my identity
Solar panelled for my length of days
No more relying on karma
I’m calmer collecting time
My chapters are bound, I have arrived
It is my duty to exude purity and passion
A legacy that lasts long
Without it how else am I going to pass on a legacy that lasts long
I am more than a song
I am a catalogue worth more than platinum to be replayed
The seeds I am sewing will need no stitches
Watered by heavenly riches
I am what was promised
I live in promise
I live with promise
I live for the promises
My main meals are honesty and confidence
What is your fruit?
Is knowledge part of your 5 a day?
What is your addiction?
If love is like making music
How does your rendition sound
Are you a prism or a prisoner?
How do you shine, now?