Don't Bottle It

Don't bottle it or if you do

If you have, if you have to, then know this 

As a school of thought to share 

Rooted, sometimes knees down we dig so deep 

Into the earth of muddy fields, miners 

We forget we are made to walk with legs 

I saw a picture of one such so constant 

Only to realize, it is inconsistent with time 

Yet maintained constant in its identity 

Remember legs are made to be walked with 

And what is one to be defined by, by act and words 

So strong, so brave, to influence decisions made 

Surely the concept of perceived notion  

Half the time is wasted on second guessing 

The mind plays mind games, brilliant at doing so 

So what is the shape of the bottle, I ask  
To define the worth of its content 
Don't bottle it, in knowing where value lies 

Walk on water

Don't let the truth, get in the way of a great story 

I heard a man say with resolve on impetus, impulse  

Do not ask, how he managed to walk on water "he did"

He did, that is all that matters, leave me with solace 

The myth busters, went out to work, on mines 

On proving one so wrong, "digging the dirt" 

In the end I found, I was made so blue 

For knowing the truth, big fuss 

He walked on water, great story, "end of"

It is not what tales you tell for vindication 

It is the consistence of your lines

To tinkle believers ears with delight "wonders shall"

The ability to engage, indulge 

To hold strong, entertain, escape, play 
Tell me a story, read me a poem in literature "fiction"

Science and religion lives on such principles too  

"You know", life it self, does too, "you know" 
Nature does too, like the blueness of the sky, "you know" 


Don't let the truth get in the way, capture my imagination  
I am engage to indulge, rainbows hold pots of gold  
I am sat on a unicorn, climbing a golden mountain "a knight"


Walking on water, end of, end of, do not read past 
End of...that is it.. 

Arts and Food, Fed

I got fed, stood on rocky hills 
Where pastures of savannah replaced thick forest 
And the dry spell of drought, changed the richness of the land 


The livestocks, that which symbolised my freedom 
My riches and my very survival; cattle on open fields 
Had long lost the battle, to the seasons silence 


Skeletons w' PhD lay across fields of carcasses of wasted meat 
The winds carry echoes of rumours of worst to come 
I hear the birds whisper in anger, as austerity engulfs the poor 


This was the fault of the politicians, they saw this coming 
But opted to line, the bankers pockets as safeguard 
So now a dust storm blows, like biblical revelations 


And many a men, with pride queue in lines 
To be fed by the collapsing safety nets 
It was never meant to carry the load of so many 


And for a while, some have lived on it as their birth rights 
The jungles lay empty without hunters harvest 
Without the farmers basket 


Decomposition of the very fabric of society 
As sons of yesterday, sons of today, fathers of today 
Sisters and mothers, yell out for reasoning wise 


Why must they, have they, lost their dignity 
At the expense of the wrong doers 
My mind is tiered of pondering, lamenting makes me thirsty 


Ticking clocks as constant reminders of obligations 
Count down, on days into nights then another after 
I walked into an art house and got fed 


This time it was my soul the most that starved 
I walked into an art house, where painters galleries  
Lined the walls, with abstract expressions painted vivid 


And warriors held their guitar ready to engage 
A'  t' front line soldiers came with words to recite in poetry
I walked into an arts house, on Stokes Croft  and got fed 

Endings Of A Book

What do you do, after reading a book 
After the suspense, of who done it 
The twist and turns, the favourite characters 


The ones so hated, the ones so loved 
The ones so hated, one came to love  
Those that carry the sympathy vote, " so unlucky, poor soul"


Sat in a room, of solitary accompany  
In a crowd, on fields, on different settings 
But none so strong, with enough vigour of sway 


To destruct attention, caught in a trance  
Into another world, like that of Alice  
Others wonder, with fascination of such dedication 


Then to the last word read, of ending sentence 
What do you do, after completing a journey
Just when the last wax, illuminates to its end  


Some characters stay on memory, encrusted 
While others dissipate, like ghost's shadows  
Never to be thought of, ever again  


Then one opens, closed views again 
To be aware of one's surrounding, again  
To pick and choose, what straw to pull from 


What do you do next 
After the last word of sentence 
After the last cover gives way, to life in chapters 

Dancing Chair

I am a good man, so I put my cards on the table 

Pick one and name as yours, label 

Lovely, dressed with finesse make it an A, A’s 

Because is with (A) as thus I see you 

You already with Queens from genesis  

The way you were born, made to be, the way you are 

I  will surround you with chairs, in dancing chairs 

And less of the competition, when the music stops 

Pick one, feel free with patience and take a sit 

The fog clears, when one nears you 

In the eye of the storm 

You are centred with piece, lovely 

So pick a music, dance with its rhythm 

Enjoy the patience of the sounds it offers 

The sanctity of the ocean breeze 

The music would not stop until you do, I promise 

The chairs will not be occupied until you do  

And the fog will always make way in your presence  

I will put my cards on the table, pick one 

I promise I would not look

But make it A(s), Lovely