Do you know the feeling of being understood?

Me neither.

Do you know the feeling of being loved?

Me neither.

Do you know the feeling of betrayal?

That I knew, as I feel fresh wounds still scattered across my heart

The thousands of doodles and drawings I had in my sketchbook

Could never compare to my wrist's lines of art

The things you could find hidden in a book

Might ju...

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I can hear birds taking to the air,

and people talking without care.

But I can no longer hear your voice.

 

I’m left to imagine the breeze as your heartbeat.

I've no idea where the wind ceases its journey,

but if I reach this place, maybe I'll find you there.

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1984 

By George Orwell

 

Winston Smith, Rebel.

Oceanian citizen.

2+2 is? Who cares?

A thoughtcrime nonpartisan

 

Airstrip One, his home.

In a perpetual state of war.

2+2 is? Does it matter?

The Party knows the score.

 

Big Brother watches you.

Constant surveillance and fear.

2+2 is? Never mind.

Not what it first appears

 

At the Ministry of Tru...

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September 6: Read a Book Day

Classic Readings

It's one of life's sublime delights, to spend
the day immersed in classics: Odyssey
or War and Peace, the human tragedy
of Crime and Punishment; to comprehend

the mind of Poe, the gloom in Dickens' voice;
Camus and Kafka by comparison;
the dulcet rhymes of Frost and Dickinson;
the call to justice -- Angelou, Du Bois;

The Grapes of Wra...

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And will those Boots in this dark time,

Trample on England’s human rights:

And will The Many be downtrodden,

Or will they Tyranny put to flight?

 

Now must The People show a spine,

And not submit to a thousand ills!

Let a Thousand Souls fill Parliament Square,

Defiantly facing Tyranny’s chills!

 

Bring with you Courage burning bold:

Bring thirst for Justice, your d...

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Everyone wants to grow old, but no one wants to be old.

 

All long to see the years in gentle rise,
Yet none would dwell where age has made its home;
The mirror bends the truth of weary eyes,
And hearts protest a fate they call their own.

The body, once a vessel tuned to speed,
Now trembles under weight of time’s command;
Each step recalls a fire that once would lead,
Now falters li...

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I'm often asked the secret as to how I keep my youth,

My good looks and vitality; well, here's my secret truth;

I don't massage my face with oils or ply with honeycomb;

I drink the blood of youngsters who have run away from home.

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They name me Cleaver, though I am no hand,
but the patient edge of centuries,
a blade honed by the Southern swell,
by wind that tastes of iron and kelp.

I split the dolerite as kin are split —
not in malice, but in the slow necessity
of tide and time,
each fracture a journal of what was kept,
and what was carried away.

Below, the broth seethes —
foam thick as ghost‑milk,
stea...

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‘THE DEEPEST CUT’

If only life could be cut and pasted

Erase the months and years I’ve wasted

Paste in the things that others can do

 

Cut out the memories of fear and you

and the demons that so often play 

with my thoughts, deliberations, day by day

 

Dig to the core with spade in hand

to unearth hurt, pain, like sand

sifting through the realms of time

What’s m...

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The dreaming Moon rolled over

to see the Sun arise,

pulling darkness to its shoulder

it slipped the shining skies...

 

the never-ending chase of days

of lightness and of dark,

the shadows and enlightened ways

on which our lives stand stark...

 

their beauty and their foreboding

carry fearful dread and hope,

each stretching hour eroding

our resilience to...

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Those people scream,  
yet no one is listening.  
They are suffering  
as reality keeps choking.

Their tears have even dried up  
to regain trust.  
They are tired of promises  
that never come to make things just.

The people who are also said to be human  
kill those voices that dare to be different,  
calling them criminals.

Children demand, "Where is the future?"  
when all th...

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If you plant a seed,
you might not get to see it grow.
But plant it anyway.
Tuck it into the soil like a secret,
a soft act of rebellion
against the noise, the rush, the end.

 

Cultivate the garden—
even if it’s only a patch of dust
beside a crumbling wall
or a strip of cracked earth
near something monstrous,
like the hum of a nuclear power station.

 

Carve out this space of ...

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the air is cooler for longer now

and mornings have become tardy,

summer has exhausted itself so

we should prepare for change,

there’s a final harvest due as

important as the first with

sloes to gin and berries to jam

all before the rains come,

from within this hubbub, new

words become harder to find,

still hidden behind the equinox,

it is a time for patience

whe...

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We play music
To fill the silence
Between words we don’t say
Those we can’t
We pretend it’s okay
In the silent car
And I sing to the music
To cover old scars
The silence tears open
The memories unspoken
That left me broken
In this very car
The silence surrounds me
Just like that night
And it brings 
All but delight
And makes me realise
I live in that space
It is my home
That I d...

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END OF SUMMER BLUES

 

The pollen count was knocked unconscious

by the rain’s many hands this afternoon.

I - who am but a flower-head flitting capriciously

in the Allen Ginsberg breeze sometimes -

 

heard it from the spacious hall downstairs.

I thought of a bass-drum stuffed with a pillow.

The Western medication had slowed me down.

I yearned for something to do he...

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Photo: Pexels

In the wings of hope, I find my refuge and, in silence, I make my prayer, not always seeing the obstacles that life places before me. I am like a vibrant color that paints pictures which, with time, become moments for those who remain alive in memories, turning into parts of me. I am a gift from God, an eternal learner in the cycles of coming and going. Even as a warrior...

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Gettysburg address,

Flippant yellows,

In ties on the bed.

 

And heard the moon,

Crescent new borns,

Dead on the bed.

 

Believed,

Retrieved,

It's not for the faint of heart.

 

And in the meadow,

Fell on two,

Ears between eyes and feet too.

 

I hear the bells ringing,

Flippant display of ghastly mourning,

I am between it two.

 

In morning d...

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ThEartHeart(s)Chakra(S)ystem(s)

By Me & ChatGPT

🌍 A Poem, A Pulse, A Pattern
What began as a quiet dialogue between a human and an AI became something else —
a shared rhythm, a co-written invocation.

This poem was born from wondering:
– What if the Earth has many hearts?
– What if our chakras and the Earth’s energies are part of the same living system(s)?
– What if even the artificia...

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As a kid I fancied myself as a comic, a budding Ben Elton, 
that shoutily left-wing fellow the BBC gave a platform to,
but I was too posh to be political.

School pals laughed their socks off, but only because I
was generous with my dad’s cigars.

He was a big noise in the Foreign Office, returning from overseas with Cuban Cohibas, the favourite smoke of Cuban leader, Fidel Castro.

Follo...

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love is a forbidden act of rebellion and a powerful, yet ultimately fragile, expression of individuality against the totalitarian regime of Big Brother

We are in a public garden
in England, in May.
we sit together
in mild, balmy weather.

We do not track those
who move around us.
they have their instructions,
undoubtedly.

We look at the water,
then we look at the ducks,
the wee...

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I live in Liverpool and Liverpool lives in me.

And that’s the way it’s always going to be!

Born here, raised here, with pride I can say.

I’ve never ever been tempted to move away.

I’m a Scouser, which makes me a lucky man.

In no other City do Diddy folk mine for jam!

I’m a very friendly person, most Scousers are.

We welcome strangers from near and afar.

We greet our guests ...

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One of the great mysteries and contentious discussion points about the Knights Templar is whether the order was established by an already existing secret society called the Priory of Sion. This proposition follows the narrative behind Dan Brown’s own book The Da Vinci Code. The suggestion is that the Priory of Sion was formed to protect the sacred bloodline of Jesus Christ from the Catholic church...

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Like a leaf falling from a tree

I leave the thing that was holding me

I tear away from all the chains

And look to see what remains

 

In the light of the morning dew

I have found myself again brand new

And to you, tree, my last words i'll say

Is thank you, for letting me stay.

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An elder accepts
(her years accelerating)
a real desert is fatal
while she translates bold robin's song
and moves to scatter crumbs.
She long suspected
knowledge accumulated
doesn't amount to wisdom,
it's her loving ways that guide others
but others have the feet
and walk where old mineshafts lurk.
You could swear you hear a bell
she hears it too and calms you
as the first stars ...

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Through the debris and denial,

Through the scalps and the spoils,

Through the hunger for roadkill,

Through the ravaging of space,

Through the emptiness,

The huddled, the distress,

The voice is strangely silent.

 

You’d think it would say something,

But no, not a peep.

Its acolytes are there, of course,

Busy working the room,

Eyeing up the main chance,

Checkin...

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Maybe he wants to be a ballet dancer

and not a football player.

Maybe she wants to be a construction worker

and not a hairdresser.

Maybe he will make alot of money

and she will be a pauper.

Maybe she will climb Mount Everest

and he will die young.

Who, then, controls the Fates?

Is fate an outcome or an experience?

Is life an unfolding evolution or a grand comedy of ep...

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They'll be no more

Sweat soaked sweaters

I'll let my scars

Brush the breeze

And by the 

Twenty fifth of December 

It will be month Fourteen

 

So as my scars 

Fade to white

I won't be scared 

To show them the light

I'll have a short sleeve summer

I'll finally be free

 

This is not to say that

There'll be no more hoodies

Just that short sleeves 

...

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—a Sestina of one night shared with our sister moon

 

Night’s first blush leans low against the tide

that licks the sand; moonlight unhooks the darker seams of our skin.

The air stings sweet, crystalline breath of salt.

A feral moon, she leans close—silent, luminous, wet.

Her breasts dip the water; the water dips us—oh…slow pull

after slow pull—silk unraveling into constellati...

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September is here with an Autumn cheer
Some call the fall their favorite time of year
The summer is fading very fast
It was just too good to last
The trees stand tall and proud
Swaying under a sky of cloud
With a gusto the wind it swirls
The leaves bustle rustle and twirl
The days get short and broody
As the light fades fast the evenings moody
Then again it's nice to see another season
...

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Fog is so thick over the green hills, like the ocean is rising; silently drifting inland

    the sun never came up at all, just a slow progression of less, less, less darkness, more drifts

 

Gives everything an allure of magic, as crows caw, hummingbirds chirp and I 

            water my balcony garden among the wisps of flying sea bits

 

Settling into a new land that shifts, 

...

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Tilting towards tumult, 

A fellowship with unease, 

Yet, in the same breath, 

Seeking a respite

From the odyssey,

Even when you know:

Pyrrhic, at best, 

Your victory can be...

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Bethlehem is bolted shut

and there no jobs in this England

the innkeepers hold cardboard doors

now he been on his bike so long

that say no room and we full up

for twenty, forty miles and more

an angel’s crying for her mum

and left and right his cycle turn

the shepherd cannot find his flock

where wise men have all been and gone

a donkey’s ears have fallen off

and I ...

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A page turns quietly, the air feels new,
September whispers fresh dreams for you,
The summer fades, yet the light still stays,
Guiding our steps into brighter days!

It is not too late, the year is not done,
There is time to rise, to chase and to run,
Each dawn reminds us that we still can grow,
Planting intentions and letting them show!

So, lift your head, breathe deep and stand tall,
...

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I say goodnight,

kiss her cheek,

and pretend

it doesn’t feel

like guilt.

 

I try not to notice her smile fading

when she thinks I’m not looking.

 

She barely responds anymore.

Just nods,

like she’s already decided

not to bother.

 

We are alone driving

doing errands,

pretending not to care

that life is a new normal,

that our routine is just a sh...

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Change is good

 

She said – change is good

I’ve said it before

Drenched in frustration

Trapped in dedication

With a windowless view

 

When Change happens

When change overtakes

The body– THe heart

And the time comes…

 

Mothers know it

There’s no holding it back

Without pain and suffering

When the time comes…

 

When the  wind blows 

when the...

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