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Friday, 30 April 2010

Freedom is free, but yet so dear

Freedom is free, but yet so dear..
Borders constrain..
Yet keep, I man safe..

Clothes are a bore..
For which to wear, I know not why..
Yet for society, it so required..

Life in merry making...
Life as a rolling stone..
Why not, why not..
If for joy is gained from it..
Why not, for life I merry make..

Pot is for high..
A feeling it gives, of ecstasy joy..
Hippie is for peace, loving harmony..
If for only, youth was forever..
And life's burden was benumb..

Freedom of speech of notions and sentence 
For what words I can pronounce 
If to make my point be heard 
But yet not all, there is, that is said
For a notion in words can instigate chaos 

So I would build a fence of principal guide..
To see me through..
These paths of life,..
 I walk on by..

If for only life's burden was benumb..
And freedom was free..
And never so dear..
But, freedom is free, and yet so dear..

Thursday, 29 April 2010

Before My Birth

When I was young 
Before my birth 
I never knew of the EDL nor the BNP  

Before my birth, in wombs of cradle..
When all love I knew...
Was from mother's loving feel..

Father's knowing, of my existence..
If so wish, was a touch 
On mothering womb..

I knew not of cold, always with warmth..
I knew not of hanger, nor of despair..
I cried not a tear..

I knew not of hatred, nor of class..
That of greed and of jealousy..
I feared not of death, nor of sin..

I carried, none of my fathers..
Weakness and fear
And his before him..

I saw, no colour of man..
And none saw of me as I was..
Well, how would I have " seen"  ..

I cursed no man..
And none did me..
Well how could I have " heard"

Before my birth..
I knew no man, nor of sin..
Well how could I have " known"
Before my birth..
Enhanced by Zemanta

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Blissfully blessed

Let me not see, de true colours of day light..
Accept imperfection, as one complete..
Let me not see de needle eye..
In sight past, my arms length..
Know not as fact, where religion lies..

Let me be de river flow, delicately around rocks..
Hear not distortion, in opera's grace..
And be with love , blind as love..
Be blonde and happy, as cloudless day..

Done to be with know, and know it all..
And loose my cherished, blissful bless..
Let me not see, de true colours of day..
And love as man a' not as God..

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Wine of love

For what horse paths, I travel by..
For what pavements, I trekk on by..

On journeys to fetch, oh fetch you by..
To quench my taste, with fountain flow..

Your aqua of love, I so much crave ..
Your need for me, I so much embrace..

A hundred miles, I walk on by..
It leaves no dust, on these here feet..

A hundred more, I will walk on again..
To horse you back, to my homely den..

Monday, 26 April 2010

Yingyang Lust

What eyes sees in sight..
Leaves little resistance, wanted..
Weakened in gagging vulnerability..
It beholds, holds desire in lust..

Awakening the yang
To undo the ying's holiness..
Deary me, Holiness?..
I must have slept and missed the line

On there was always the eye of the yang..
Peeping eyes, sees in sight..
Dot dotted pinned in black on white..
Try not to look so blatant..

Inconspicuous manners required..
A class of a kind 
Trouble is, eyes sees in sight..
Do not look, you are being watched""
Mind mumbling in inner voice..
Be modest, like mum is the word..

Try being inconspicuous..
Above or below thee, no bother
Trouble is, eyes sees in sight..
Yang on ying dotted dot in one whole dot..
Made in black on white canvas..
Leaving little resistance, succumbing to the yearn..

Mind over matter,
Matters greatly that eyes on sight..
Is not caught wandering, ying over yang..
Matters so dearly , yet matters not to lust..

Viewing in 3D vivid imagination in part..
Soon to be caught red handed..
In red eye gazing, in viewing post..
What eyes sees on sight, is fractured fairytale..

Sunday, 25 April 2010

So Out of it

Why do I feel so out of it..  
In it deep past shoulder height..  
Highly choking in, on oxygen's gust..  

Alien thoughts invading minds..  
Awol wandering, wondered minds  
Lost in bewilderment's hung on chains..  

Incapacitated muscles stack out pointing.. 
On junctions, in circles, going nowhere.. 
Erased from time is ghostly passage..  

And in limbo, stood in cycles..
Stack in limbo all around limbo 
All in limbo, limbo, limbo 

Why do I feel so out of it..
Keys to doors, doors to keys..
Held in search for always, ways in..

In it deep past shoulder's height..
Drowning in, on solid grounds, stood on firm soil 
Loosely giving way losing grounds 

Long being in,  for far too long ..
Dissolution set sealing seal 
Cold in the arctic, dessert so bland, white ..

Why do I feel so out of it..
Sun light's ray, now so much hoped for.. 
Sun light blessed to brighten paths ..

Voices in heads yelling out 
Why do I feel so out of it 
In it, deep past shoulders height 

There is someone at the door 
Go and check, go and check 
Who is there, who is there 

Saturday, 24 April 2010

Favor Friend

Favor friend, favor friends ..
Always wanting favors....
Seek seeking favors..
Always in after favours..
Siphoners, in always after want..
After favors, after favors..

And there, they come knocking..
At the break of dawn before the sun wake..
Friend oh friend, open up oh friend..
Yes I am here,here, in for a favor oh friend"....

So why oh favor friend..
I see not you, on my door step..
When thunder backs woof..
And rain drops in water falls..

To invade my tranquil den,..
In darkened clouds, yes why not then.. 
I see not you oh favor friend..
As in need as in did 

Do you read my horoscope in star sign..
Or check with the weather man..
Would it be that you are of the sixth sense..
On my state of being at always..

Oh favor friend, favor friend..
Why not when I am in need..
Down on my luck, favor friend..
Always just when in want, seeking favor..

You darkened my door step in shadow..
Oh favor friend, favor friend 
For you, is need for help all you know..
To acquaint my service to o favor friend 

Friday, 23 April 2010

The Old Comedy Club

Remember the old comedy club..
Where it stood now no more..
In it's ears n eyes of windows boarded..
And laughters from door mouth..
Locked up, fenced up, shut closed..

Remember in Bristol on Gloucester road..
Stoke croft of old Montpelie..
Just before the Arches..
Next to Fred Baker's cycle shop..

A comedian made jokes of the end times..

We all laughed almost on queue  
In times now life imitating art..
Ghost whispers now echoes of laughters..
On jesters of the old comedy club..

Passions for what fights we fought..
In loosing battles, f
or lost course fought..
The super market won in the end

Remember the old comedy club
Remember me not on remembrance..
Of  drummers of sorrowful ending..

If for that, on that only..
Remember me then no more..
Let me be gone like I never existed 

For I rather in minds be remembered of comedy..
Joys of laughter,
in my old comedy seating..
Remember me of the good times gone..

With laughters from jester's 
Of old comedy club..
Remember my door was always opened 

Thursday, 22 April 2010

Do not unplug My Feathers

Strike me not to ignite my rage..
Do not awaken my darkened side..
In good remittance, I am at present..
And penance in history deeds ..
I have put to past in payments..

Do not stain my happiness..
It has been hard to come by..
And never enough ..
To throw sea sand on it's gold dust..

Even the lady of the night..
Was once a virgin, a child at that..
And would one day see through stains..
Cast in doubt on her image worn..
Of  perception and judgement..
Be it in life or death,..
Grace would be hers, be assured..

Do not unplug my feathers..
In stained hands in doubt..
For when one goes in such for specifics..
A thousand others are missed in opportunities..
Manoroma holds fortunes in disguise..

For the future is always going to be..
Better in brightness than the past..
Manifestation of invisible doors..
Coming to light, in daylight of the aftermath..

Strike me not to ignite my rage..
Cast no doubt, while I am still with breath..

Do not unplug my feathers with stained hands..
And even when I am no more..
Strike me not in stain in blemish..
Do not awake my darkened side..

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Thesis “Cockroaches In Suits “

If you dying to see, you zombie..
So then you brain dead..
So you can't see, blinded,..

Prices paid for, 
Ends, means,..
Needs to be justified..

Slaughter in carnage, 

On to be made kings..
Blood money, riches gained..

On the back of treachery..
Betrayal of trust, in on deals..
For pact made to sell souls..

Love ones watched hanged on crosses..
Judases in multiples on goodfridays..
Fat cat still trying to gauge riches..
Or die trying..

So then you brain dead so you can't see..

The Y'ness of political sides opposing 
But to a single interest, of self interest   It all comes down to a point, a singularity 

Confused state of minds..
Of your estado mental de la mente..
Not to worry, you are expected 
To be lost in translation 

And I don't do Spanish
I just know words, in meaning"..
Such as Spanish inquisition..
In self indulgence of ..
Politics in pure capitalist mindset..

I say, simplified defined in thesis..
Arrogance is not much..
In any difference from Ignorance..

And they just like playing..
The blame game, cockroaches..
Politicking in suits, roaches

Thesis cockroaches in suits..

If you dying to see,
In believing smokescreens..

You brain dead, blinded..
So you can't see
, blinded..
Ok, now turn the light on

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Paused In Actions.

Zooming in, into the spiders web..
Seen on cctv's..
Viewing in on movements..
Made by the worker ants, bees..
In antics wilier dealer, dealing away..
What's on offer..

Eyes sees vividly wide..
Nope, blinded, too much fuss..
Hase in on games watched..
Dilly dally, wilier dealer, dealing..
Diddle dee, Dillinger in waiting..
Cow boys in sheriffs, renegades..

Well, we will hunt these hyaenas in packs..
Fools out of town..
For now though blinded..
Too much fuss..
Paper work, too much fuss..

Blinded, let him be..

Just the worker ant bee, that be..
Just the one vic that is..
Nah she is long gone, wasted..
Too far gone,..
Too much fuss, paper work..
Too much fuss, Blinded, let him be..

Queen bee, in on sight for target..
Wanted, bigger fish, fishing now..
Bait let him be, too much fuss..
Paper work, too much fuss..

Mean while another vic..
Falls in on dust, inhaled soils..
Six feet under, too far gone..

Monday, 19 April 2010

Rascals In The Saints

In our days in the saints, oh saints..
We were no saints..
Like wild weeds..
The stubborn among them..

That breathes the poisonous weed killer spray..
Sprayed in on it's throat with delight..
In-between pavement, arrrogantly poking..
Heads up, held high and mighty, in flair..
Watched in flair..

Admired by the aspirants..
Cursed by the dislike..
Misunderstood by all..
A renegade among men..

In our days in the saints..
We walked like Kings among commoners..
With lives as with that, of a cat's life..
We survived nine lives..

As miracles are in enigma..
We were miracles in our own right..
In wild stories echoed ...

We were the main characters talked about..

Some wrote on the walls..
Writings, cursed to be doomed...
Dammed to be left for dead..
For the prophecy among men..
Saw no bright light of sun rise in ray..
When she looked in the oracle..

In our days, in days at the saints..
We were no saints..
But legends we became..
When the sun went down..

Sunday, 18 April 2010

The Thing About My Hair

Like Samson, in biblical..
It is the one thing that leaves me,..
Feeling naked without...

A shell to a crab...
You always add to my height..
In the mirror I am Everest..
Trimmed like hedges, you epitomise me..

However you enslave me..
Dependent on the comb..
My timing always made late..
Spending forever searching for..
The last piece of jig saw to complete me...

In-between times of frantic..
Searching and finding..
I decide to cut you off..
"Enough already
You have made me late again"

Just then I find you hidden..
Under my old dirty clothes..
The roughness raked out to perfection..
In the mirror, I am Everest again..

But you enslave me..
Making me late again..

My hair, my hate, my love 

Saturday, 17 April 2010

Window shopping

# On On, on on on..
# On On, on on on..

Are you up for window shopping..
No I am down for window shopping..

Are you down for window shopping..

No I am up for window shopping..

Will it be into this shop..
No it will be into that shop..
Will it be into that shop..

No it will be into this shop..

# On On, on on on..

# On On, on on on..

Do you wanna try this on..
No I wanna try that on..

Do you wanna try that on..
No I wanna try this on..

# On On , on on on..
# On On , on on on ..

Are you, are you, up for window shopping..
No I'm, no I'm, down for window shopping..
Are you , are you, down for window shopping..

No I'm, no I'm, up for window shopping..

And it goes..

# On On, on on on..

# On On, on on on

Friday, 16 April 2010

I am otherwise Engaged

I am,..
But at the beginning of..

Something new,..
Something tested,..
Something old, re-emerging..

Something seen through..
The eyes of the visionary,..
Prophecy through crystal balls,...
Shaman's speech...

In-between that,..
I am in the middle of..
Paying bills, tax man's cut,...
Landlords knock, 6 o'clock wake..
9 o'clock start, 5 o' clock finish...

My eggs in basket..
Are low on count..
Delicacy, forward thinking..
In action required here..

Strive in strike my metal is hot...

I am,
But in the middle of..
Something tested,..
Still being tested...
Test result awaited for..
I am otherwise occupied, engaged..
Leave a message after the beep

Thursday, 15 April 2010


I stood, she stood, he stood, there waiting..
Neon lights gave count down till zero..
She shivers but holds her ground firm..

He looks “something is not right”..
She looks, count down still counting..
Neon lights kept counting down..
Till zero,
but for now on two..

Two, One, Zero , din don..
And all doors open..
I walked in, he walked in after..
Din don, she stood there frozen..

Confined places in lift, especially in lift..
Turned out to be her axils hill..
What do you know, her "axils hill”..

Din don, steps on stairs, staircases,..
Flip flop, gives options in elevating..

And with that she went up elevating..
Enhanced by Zemanta

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Old Alliance Lost

My pen bleeds, 
Bleeds battles on old alliance lost..
In fields in years of our youth..

By the open fire,
Burning Steaks,..
Herbs and mash mellows..

Where laughter’s of funny jokes were shared..
Funnier were those that came..
From the name that today eludes me..
Sits on my tongue, refusing to be named..

In our hippie days..
When music and world peace..
Was the politics we spoke..

Burn Bush, 

Poppet Blair, 
War is bad..

The grown-ups were a bore..
Torturing us with 

Worrying songs of tomorrow..

In a blink, 

Stone dropped in ponds, oceans..
Sent chuckles splashing..
In different directions of geography..

Now new alliance formed now
few old one’s still attached to..
Not always for reasons of friendship..
For that is lost now..

Under this pea tree, in reminiscence..
My pen bleeds memories in droplets
Pouring, oozing down on paper..

Of old alliance lost

Tuesday, 13 April 2010


In little feet’s of dwarf 
In my adolescent youth 
In Locomotion 

Through yards  
Of unexplored worlds  
I step, a feet at a time 
Anticipation and trepidation  
Glued on pavements of red sand 
On my feet, evidence of tango danced 

Every day I go a step further 
From the nest in which 

I was cradled in comfort 

Addiction of an excitement     
For new conquest I venture  
Dis-virgined by visions inhaled 

Verbal chants made loud in my ears as caution  
Like unwelcome trumpets, of kings parade 
“Do not enter into the dark forest” 

Deterring me not  

I am a rebel determined  
The hunter will come to know me as so 
Edged on by passions of solicitation 
To whisk into unseen worlds of enigma 
It is an adventure, I seek on my quest 

To be enlighted through paths I walk 
These forest would soon be mine to own  
These wings will soon be aerial tested 

Monday, 12 April 2010

Difference in my Oxeye daisy..

For all that we are,..
Beliefs and stands..

For all that we are..
Faith, Science, Race and Sex..
A school of thought to have belonged to ..

And the man with faith says..
Don't ask about evolution..
God created the heavens and earth..
Faith decides the rest..

The Einsteinian and Darwinian..
Says in response arguing to a point

Gravity; what goes up must come down..
Evolution is just a natural process..

Quantum Physics sets out middle grounds  ..
Still with vague and blurry lines 
Says all that is thought of is possible..
With parallel worlds and tinny..
Atoms that freely float, and defy gravity..

But no man answers the question..
Of the Big bang!!!..
Truly really 

And the "Black hole" seriously..

What of where it all came from..
No magic, or Santa clues stories..
What was before genesis and before that..

The difference between my ox-eye daisy
Still can't tell me, what answers I seek
No man answers the questions..
Of when if the Goldie luck Planet..
Like for like, like Earth..
Will ever be found, 
As a fact, all chips in..

And science of today..
Becomes assumptions made..
On what is known,..
To be proven false in times to come..

I as a man, I belong to three..
School of thoughts..
Which all leaves..
Questions Unanswered..

This is why I can not be a fanatic..
Just lost in translation,..
Translated as open minded..

Sunday, 11 April 2010

Drive bys on Sundays

Some-days on Sundays..
Sundays in sun light...
All in all in good times..
Just days in good times..
When all feels, just right..
Oh yea, just right..

When the breeze is smooth..
And trees just whisper ; not shout..
When the birds fly west..
Out-towards, unto-wards the sun set..

Set on Sundays..
Just on Sundays , noontides..
Just past middays, noontimes..
I do my drive-by, on Sundays..
Just on Sundays..

Shared with: http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/p/one-shoot-sunday.html

Saturday, 10 April 2010

Words, My point of View

In the beginning, there was the word..
And the word was spoken..

"I have a dream"

So now I speak my word..
I oppose, I object and debate.. 

I make my stand, and I am heard..

Because I speak my word..
I state my point of view   
Firmly expressed, I let it be known 

I speak my word
But I am allowed to change my stand..
Because I am open to a debate..

I sit and carefully listen..
Analyse, waiting to be convinced ..

Of one's point of view, in discussion..

Time changes
And with it an enlightenment..

So now I know, that which ..

I did not know before..
A discussion, a reasoning 

"I am allowed to change my stand"..

But before that; I need to be convinced..

And for that to happen,..

Both sides need to be heard..

My point view, is my point of view..

I am open to a challenge..
A debate , a discussion, reasoning..

To change my stand, 

Does not make me indecisive,..
But rather flexible, open minded..

Open to a debate, a discussion, analysis 
 I believe in a democracy, freedom of speech

Where everyone, can speeches make..

Has a voice and can be heard..
With reason, analogy 

An opinion on a subject matter 
However, that comes with responsibility..
Because I CANNOT be insulted by the fact ..

That, everyone has the right to an opinion..

As even with a democracy..

There are rules to be adhered to..

Like instruction manuals, the dos and don'ts 

So sometimes I bite my tongue and turn away..
I do the walk, and walk on by 

And hope you do the same too, in response ..

Because, I cannot be insulted..
Just for the sake of it..

For just that sake, insults ..

Everyone has the right to an opinion..
The time, place and what is said ..

Is what makes the difference, on stages drawn..

So now I pick my time..
Here and now, this stage befitting 

And speak my word..
Enhanced by Zemanta

Friday, 9 April 2010

The Last Stand

First To Go..
Last To Go...
Next to a significant figure..
100, yea say 100..99 wouldn't cut it..
Statistically where do I fall..

To be remembered when I am gone?...

My image my life..
Used as poster boy..
On journeys through bewilderment..
These vast array, in oceans of casualty..

Should I be selfish and live?..
Save my skin..
Stand by and watch a comrade..

Lie stunned on the emptiness of desert..
Deserted at the mercy in vulnerability..
Of t' unforgiving dragon’s den of fairydust..

Or should I be a hero..
And die as one saving another..
Not on 99, one more makes me a 100, a hero..
"Send farewells to my mother"..

It is no longer a rational decision..

Just instincts filled with adrenaline..
What do I do next, what to do next?..
Am I a hero?..

I leave others to decide..

My body and soul..
No longer synchronised in one..

A' my life flashes flashbacks..
Of my past; To me..

While I stand guard, of comrades..
99 is one away, and that would be me 

Thursday, 8 April 2010

"U Know Monie Issues"..

I could be a millionaire
If I had the money

Nah; me nho ave no monie...
Man broke man, real broke man..
Chi-chins in pennies, sing gospel songs..
In na me pocket, baskets waits for collections 

Ha-lle-lu- jah ,
 alle-lu -ia, 

Church bells sounds, dem a fi make..
Constantly, but constantly one less ..
Ire man hear dem make,..
Sounds constantly chi-chin one less..

Seriously man!, me broke man ..
Me nho ave no monie..
You know, real broke man..

Thorn holes, little thorn holes, Strainers..
Cockroaches, picking crumbs ..
Through little thorn holes..
In nah me pocket..
Oliver twist dem drain me dry, aahh!!..

Me tell you maaaan, me broke man ..
Me nho ave no monie ..
Man dem broke man still!!..
Ire; man bruk ..

Still, one less constantly one less..
Me hear make chi-chin..
In na me pocket ..
Man just bruk ..

Wednesday, 7 April 2010


Basically we back to basics..
Reset, default setting..
Back to zero..

Days in dot, dot, day dot..
To genesis,

Back to zero-sis..

And my addiction..
Human addiction..
Creatures of habits..
That's what we are..

In on habitation of routine..
Routinely having to initialise..
Recycling back to ritualise..

On the wagon, off the wagon..
Onto another wagon, in waiting..
And basically we back to basics..

Tea for coffee, 

Chocolate, a whisky or cigar..
In love, love in addiction 

And all in routine..
Routinely dot, dot, 

Basically we back to basics
All in indulgence..

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

Windows Of My Eye

I see through windows..
In sight of view..
Into the horizons of grace..

Of the morning dew..

In windows, in golden glare..
Of the blessed sun's ray..
Setting, blowing ,..

Kisses to days ends..

I see through windows..
The tribal dance, Of the forest trees..
Moving with flair..
Synchronising rhythm in dance..

I see through windows..
With enchanting calmness..
In flows of waves in oceans..
In deep blue oceans..

And dolphins that jump out..
Playing pica boo 

In happiness..

I see through windows..
In windows sometimes..
Tear drops fall out , like water falls

In succession, uncontrollable..

For what is seen in windows..
Sometimes, on 
Saddens the heart's warmth..
In vivid imagery.. 

I see through windows..
Windows of eyes into souls..
All that is there to be seen..
In windows of my realm..

I see through my two 

Opened windows..
Earth's beauty..
In pain and happiness..

In movie marts..
Unedited in its ways..
I see through windows, 

Of my eye..

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