Help me bear this burden,
with gratitude and grace.
Teach me faith and patience,
so that I may set it down,
in this life or the next,
and know the wisdom of it’s purpose.
With this, I give myself to you.
Lord this is my prayer.

there’s something in me that knows this aint it
there’s something in me that refuses to quit
there’s something in me that wants to commit

there’s something in me that’s got to improve.

there’s something in me that inspires me
there’s something in me that fires me
there’s something in me that’s a higher me

there’s something in me that’s driven to move.

there’s something that’s building inside of me
there’s something that can no longer hide in me
there’s something I will not abide in me

the something in me that’s got something to prove.

He came to suckle at nature’s teat,
a moment of respite,
amongst the pines his mind’s retreat,
would be his harried world’s defeat,
a noble notion, quite.

There sat he crossed-legged and darkened eyes,
with motive not quite true,
his mind’s retreat dealt swift by buzzing flies,
alone upon her breast he cries,
and Mother Nature knew.

Cast not your eyes to the ground,
Look to the skies though clouds abound,
There will be brighter days.

As your sun shall rise your moon shall crown,
Look to the skies through darkened gown,
There will be stars ablaze.

When life’s ties have you tightly bound,
Look to the skies there faith is found,
There will be brighter days.

i dreamed a dream
of pure white,
a room without walls
constructed of light.

an absolute silence
the only sound,
moved by the stillness
so deeply profound.

emptied of all
inspiration came,
from the end of time
it whispered my name.

a subtle invitation
to let go and fall,
into the white
and become one with it all.

but i knew if I fell
to this boundless unknown,
that i would not awaken
in my bed, in my home.

that moment’s hesitation
was all that was needed,
for the white to fade
and the dream receded.

in it’s place stood regret
for what might have been,
to have known the unknowable
in the whitest of dreams.

i hope when i’m ready
and the timing is right,
i’ll dream again
and pass into the white.

it’s a beautiful metaphor
for what is now
for why to live,
and how.

true love flows without condition
true love imposes no constraint
true love seeks not permission
true love makes no complaint
true love always tries again
true love keeps no time
true love ignores the will of men
true love is divine.

it’s a lonely road
that i must tread
with courage
i’ll tread it well.

tho signs along the way forebode
the ending that i dread
with courage
i’ll not dwell.

this cross to bear, this heavy load
shall turn to joy instead
with courage
my heart will swell.

i’ll pay the sum of all debts owed
and heal all wounds that bled
with courage
i’ll bid this world farewell.

when to the next my spirit flows
and they pronounce me dead
with courage
listen for the bell.

in it’s knell a question posed
did we follow faith when led?
with courage friends
i’ll see you not, in hell.

If you deeply feel the need to
there are words that God will read you
in your heart upon a scroll
entitled; “your best and highest goal”
a contract you agreed to.

Listen, and let them lead you
knowing they have freed you
to shine within your soul
if you deeply feel.

If you follow, as a seed grew
then like the flower, you may proceed to
fulfill your sacred role
and once again, be whole
remember; this only is indeed true
if you deeply feel.

breath be my guide
set my body apart
still my spirit
let soul fill my heart

return to the sanctity
of a newborn child
no thoughts to hold
no memories filed

timeless and formless
forget to remember
there’s no resistance
pure surrender.

together we light a candle
blessed in His name
in the quiet darkness it shines
upon the remains
of a friend, a brother, a lover
and simply ‘a good bloke’.

the piano fades to the empty stage
leaving the light of a solitary flame
in the quiet darkness it shines
upon the remains
of a heart that broke.

my wife keeps buying shoes and stuff
and i’ve got no money for beer
i’ve no shirt left, i’m in the buff
saying “you look lovely dear”

i’ve lost all my self respect
cos i’ve got no money for beer
stand by me and you’ll detect
the pathetic smell of fear

marriage was my one big mistake in life
now i’ve got no money for beer
this broken man won’t confront the wife
and i think the end is near

so send me a case of rat bitter ale
or i might not see out the year
in desperation i write this tale
cos i’ve got no money for beer.

*this is an entry in “The Rat Rhyme” poem competition

head on a cloud
white crush
envelopes me
opulent rush

wide expanse
gently yields
cotton crisp
peppermint fields

cocooned between
subtle seams
luxurious stairway
to beautiful dreams

Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!
Set the flames
Destroy it all
Let the battle rage
Fight! Fight!!
Thru the day
Into the night
Til victory is yours
Or til you fall
Storm the fortress!
Tear down the walls!!

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a master only,
given fuel.

fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant good,
a master cruel.
fear is fire’s cousin;
a servant only,
given rule.

fear is fire’s cousin;
an opportunity,
for renewal.

Jupiter declared war with Saturn
When they began to limerick in Latin
quod licet lovi
non licet bovi
Saturnians! Cease using our pattern!

Where is the love in a man,
whose own spark he smothers?
Where is the love in a man,
who guards his own but forsakes a brother’s?
For the spark of love to truly burn in a man,
he must tend the fire in the hearts of others.

in silent reverie
your hand takes mine
my wrist submits
fingers entwined

an act, not of transmission
but of setting free
some call this love
some call it ki

it’s light shines clear
across the divide
too deep and too narrow
to walk with a guide

thank you teacher
for this path to take
release my hand
i’m wide awake.

is it selfish of us to mourn
the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn
eternal day follows mortal night
freed from fear by loving light
i will rejoice this blessed morn
with the souls who wake to Heaven’s dawn

The Eagle soars, then comes to rest,
atop an impossible tower.
The Eagle soars from the seat of Power.

The Owl watches, patiently perched,
atop a moonlit roof.
The Owl watches from the seat of Truth.

The Lark sings, a melody made,
atop the clouds above.
The Lark sings from the seat of Love.

To be a bird!
To be all three!!!
With enough Love,
to find the Truth and Power in me.

On this grim day
As I walked alone,
Through the graveyard,
Stone by stone
I read the epitaph
Of a name unknown;

“You with life, go live! go love!
For you’ll join us here soon enough.”

So inspired by
The silent stone
I shall live and love
In the time I’m loaned
Until one grim day,
I’ll have those words
Inscribed upon my own.

Monday i was melancholy
with no good reason why

Tuesday i was taken
trucked away, terrified

Wednesday was spent waiting
in a crowded pen, putrified

Thursday-Bloody-Thursday i was slaughtered
it was murder mechanised
my life ripped right from me
amid ten thousand others’ cries

factory Friday we were dismembered
sorted into so many breasts and thighs
measured and discarded
if considered undersized

Saturday my flesh was served up
half nuggets, half secret recipe
to hordes of hungry humans
in suburban KFC’s

Sunday i sat, with chicken-god in chicken-heaven
with chicken-tears in chicken-eyes
as ten thousand unsuspecting others
began their awful journey;

to be fried.

It is my opinion that
All bald men should wear a hat
Lest the sun should catch their head
Sunburn, melanoma, dead.

Live a poem, it’s yours to write
Born to a page of empty white
Upon which, first words are penned
Shaped not, by what others intend
But by the newborn’s sheer delight.
Then, as the sparks of life ignite
Remember them in words each night
With disregard for what they portend
Live a poem.

Simply do what you feel is right
Reaching for ever higher heights
Live well, then to the light transcend
Knowing always, that in the end
Together, you and God recite
Live a poem.

the healing bowl rang
and my heart leaped and cried
I feared without fear
that perhaps I had died.

the sound of an other world
brought unto this
divine caress
spirit’s kiss.

a pristine gift
from source to soul
the magnificent call
of the healing bowl.

In my youth I knew two sisters
Namely, Hope and Joy
I asked to join their games of twister
But their reply was always coy.

I spent my youth watching Joy and Hope
With my spirits ever falling
Until Faith asked me to come skip rope
And I found my higher calling!

i determined that i should grow a stubble
upon this youthful chin
to lance my boy-ish bubble
and reveal the man within

then hubris slowly turned to doubt
with barely a whisker to detect
it seems my glorious “coming out”
had quite the opposite effect

so if you ever, lack not endeavour
but simply testosterone, remember this:
‘tween he of bearded chin and supple skin
whom would a lady rather kiss?

there you were
with your flabby arms
and your floral dress
with your hair in a mess
and your funny fringe
but,
you sang beautiful things
until i melted in your mouth
and i felt my age
with your youth on display
spilling over the stage
til the taxi came
and i went on my way

this is my yuletide gift my dear
written in flight of fancy
may it bring good cheer
this is my yuletide gift my dear
for christmas and new year
verse may be considered cheap and chancy
this is my yuletide gift my dear
written in flight of fancy