my mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
we talk about *** , i'm on the verge of tears most the time
about not respecting yourself
being born with the consciousness of 7 dimensions
respecting yourself
some of my words come out in paradoxes that have yet to be resolved
i tell her how my aim is to **** in his mouth one day
she tells me i'm disgusting and we laugh at the ****** hanging up my nose
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
It's 30 degrees outside
We have to turn on the air con
occasionally there is applause
as we talk
about how the best way to make a contribution to this planet is to be yourself , she says she hopes she offered me that wisdom as a child
I brush my hair in a soapy tub
and say that it was mixed - be yourself but then smack ! Don't do that thing. It was confusing.
She says she wasn't conscious , she was confused
she couldn't do it now
like i don't eat meat
certain things fall away when you respect yourself.
My mother brings out the rawest form of me
I brush my hair in a soapy tub

Carcass of an old
Self
Death paves way for
Regeneration - a service gifted
Within one generation
Without alienation
Dips and follies only culminate in the diamond from coal

My heart sits where he sits
Now, I'm the same wounded healer
No night time dealers beware
We know survival skills -
We are soft but we could ****
Touch the hummingbirds wing
Send fear running  
We quick , we cunning

Evade the fortress walls
Tumble the towers with rose petal showers
Weapon of choice - a smile
Business card states that I spread love and he spreads laughter
You know we ain't after cash
But that's the whiplash

Anyway
We were born to play , so we play it well , better than I'd care to tell
Stay humble leave no room to grumble
Keep the tune light , till we ignite the daytime night

My soul is his soul and his soul is mine
It's not essential so we ignore space and time
No way to express the words that don't flow when the energy exchange is enough to know , my child's father

My lover is harmonies peals and sweet serenading appeals
I , gift , me unto you , the wrapping is golden but the present is still hidden
A surprise for the patient wounded healers healed in each other- ready to heal anew

Both of us - asleep in our parallel worlds under the umbrella of ambient lighting
A shameless copy of the pure sunlight
That emanates from their bodies
When they collide on the material
Plane .

Sailing in a dhow at sunset after snorkeling off Mafia island, Tanzania.
'
SPILLAGE
The tree’s don’t sleep at night
they photosynthesize , by moonlight.
Leaves drink in the cool wise light
And give off dreams of softly fading starlight

Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl
A single blossom falls at new moon
Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon
Ever noticed? The very word has the circle
Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.

Geko’s slip off old skins
And the croaking frog adds to the din
As thunder rolls in
Triggering the dogs bark
Guardian of the stark naked couple
Asleep in their parallel worlds
Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting
Not the natural kind either
But a shameless copy of pure sunlight
That emenates when their bodies collide
On the material plane.

Astral visions lead the way to headquarters
The address? Fax? Phone number?
I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,
Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation
Then you would already know, you are already there
Doors are open , for those who care to try
No lock on this baby ,
Ain’t no safe to play safe
We bask in our humble glory
Under the shores on undulating tides
Rhythmic pulsations
no where to hide
The emanations come from within,
Without , a shadow of a doubt

There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades
Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff
Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff
But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust
Even though they already stock that kinda stuff
Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1
Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****
In the cake
And we found the frog in the salad,
At least their habitat is intact
Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?

Ok , I’ll change tact
Change of pace.
No , no I will not join the Human Race
Running to where? Why all the running?
From what? To where? From whom , to whom it seems like we run straight to our tombs, without a second glance at perhaps the chance that legs can walk…
Wanna know where I’d rather be?

I want to be on a motorbike heading 70 miles an hour down empty roads
An island paradise , holding the hips of my dearest
To arrive at another home ,
where our friends relax to the forlorne strums of the blues
Tripping on love we depart ,
not without slightly heavy hearts
Peace , friends we’ll see you anon.

Pull into the golden arches , I tell myself ‘I can’t kiss those lips now they’ve touched that burger’
then I remember you’ve been working all day
before you came out to play , I wasn’t up for a dance I was too entranced in my own madness
But. Always the **** , walk up those stairs for me, softly you moan.
I agree in a semi tone. Secrets are meant to be shared,
we quietly told each other of love in the parking lot at 4 am. The pain in your eyes still wakes me up in the middle of thunderstorms.

Awoken to sorrows from the motherland, monsters creep to the door,
peep in the keyhole.
Oh,
I forget,
your door is activated by credit card numbers that spiral from lips of z-list celebrities.
So we’ll waste away the morning in each other arms,
you watch me as I dress. No underwear no less. Put on your bra properly, suddenly you get kinda frosty.
Not far from where we sat to have a Japanese lunch , pretty close to where I walked to meet you for tea , where you held my feet and handed me a phone I left in your brothers car.
Well that’s where we have breakfast coffee and papaya whilst tourists ogle at the dog guard.
Deaf to our calls , luxuriously taking his time. He didn’t find the secret beach either.
Although the sea was good for a float, and to hear the space journey’s musical manifestation
at every crash of every wave, the magnetic pull playing her crooked beat as she bypasses our feet.
Then, there are two nights with two Amsterdam gals , one smoked lucky strikes and had scars across her wrists , the other photographed trees for a living.
Both blonde , both fair , both with their own flair.

Expect the unexpected , beach raves full of people I don’t really want to be with , so we get tequila shots instead
and stand outside a shop selling knock off clothes when the bar needs to shut.

She took a break to the bathroom , we finally let out the kisses we’d been holding in all night,  
until she got back.

Who said we couldn’t control ourselves? Although to be fair, I could feel you reaching for me wayyy back.

Why should we be selfish? Why shouldn’t we? I still went home with you that night, there really was no two ways about it.
I had *** with you, slightly drunken ***, that was by no means gentle, by no means candle lit , by no means rose petals laid out on the bed, infact , if my memory holds true, there were no flowers apart from the ones on my dress.
I’d say you were lucky , but then I cried at home.
So much pent up emotion in that one act.
Enough to propel us in into another night and untold eons beyond, I’m skipping ahead now,
Where we drank red wine on the shoreline , I used the staff bathroom and noticed all the things that could be improved – seemed like work was wearing off on me.
Still, the best part was yet to come, yeah the *** was fun but nothing compared to the games we played. Dress up and salsa ,
mysterious temples
natures tickles leading to giggles at the foolish endevours of two ***** humans., smoke a spliff , enough to unwind the mind to a new point of time. A flash of something I’ve never seen before, nor have yet to be graced with again.
I guess that was divine. Well, wouldn’t you say….
It was about time.

So , am I still talking about the shops?
Or who wore what with kate moss?
No disrespect
she’s adept at her art but i don’t wanna read about boring old farts
Lets hear about the underground collective of conscious minds who are rewinding the clock , who won’t stop ,
warriors.

Well quite frankly

How long have we sat , year after year to be told the same **** and bull story.. my ears, my ears! MY EARS!!! They yearn for the sweet serenade of the truth

behind the crumbling arcade of rigged lottery tickets and games of black jack where the house always wins.
Fortunately we’ve been coming since we were five , we know the cards without seeing the faces, we hold all the jacks and aces, we’ve got time on our side

So…that’s why they are running , finding places to hide.

We’d only be stealing from the house to give to the houseless…
With the tools the house gifted to us…doesn’t it seem ironic?

I laughed until I cried the day I discovered the universe had a sense of humor. A dark , ironic , sarcastic tone that involves  a major chord. Maybe a G or a D.

You are a
     Fox in a beard
            With morals and
Values some may fear
Due to your honest , straight
Nature,
              But I can see more
Than that .
           I can see the hurt
Aspects in your eyes, that
Make you
              That much kinder –
      For out of pain,
Those, who choose –
Can birth and
Form much
Richness of character
And bear more of the elusive soul - rarely seen without the ego garb - but in this case , is slowly taking off the costume to reveal the secrets within.

---------------


Stretched out like a green mountain lion –
A tickling of pride and mocked nonchalance dance side by side in your Eyes accompanied by
The slight fiendish grin
That overcomes your
Face when you
Know I can’t resist
You anymore

I have more than just flames,
Flickering on the tips of my fingers;
Underneath and above the edge of the world
I will dance, similar to the way wind creates wars between the leaves.
A melancholy dawn to new days; and the fear of uncertainty
Rumbles through you, shattering all your teeth.
I will pour you another cup of tea,
From my psychedelic purple cat face teapot containing a stopped clock,
We will sit silently on the brink of disaster
As we always have... and something beneath us will laugh.

Nature, that wahed her hands in milk,
  And had forgot to dry them,
Instead of earth took snow and silk,
  At Love’s request to try them,
If she a mistress could compose
To please Love’s fancy out of those.

Her eyes he would should be of light,
  A violet breath, and lips of jelly;
Her hair not black, nor overbright,
  And of the softest down her belly;
As for her inside he’d have it
Only of wantonness and wit.

At Love’s entreaty such a one
  Nature made, but with her beauty
She hath fram’d a heart of stone;
  So as Love, by ill destiny,
Must die for her whom Nature gave him
Because her darling would not save him.

But Time, which Nature doth despise
  And rudely gives her love the lie,
Makes hope a fool, and sorrow wise,
  His hands do neither wash nor dry;
But being made of steel and rust,
Turns snow and silk and milk to dust.

The light, the belly, lips, and breath,
  He dims, discolors, and destroys;
With those he feeds but fills not death,
  Which sometimes were the food of joys.
Yea, Time doth dull each lively wit,
And dries all wantonness with it.

Oh, cruel Time, which takes in trust
  Our youth, or joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
  Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days.

laughing at myself
silencing my grief
as the ashes of my death filled childhood are dispersed into the breeze
so i can breathe                           a     non-smoke filled sigh of relief
laughing at myself
as the morbidity slips away along with the anxiousness of a root chakra
disturbed in growth
whilst my worries of enough       are quelled with enough                      on my plate
and beautiful places to sleep
laughing at myself
visions of my dreams cast far into the future are coming back at me thru
the freed up space that still smells a little of pain
but is dotted by ethereal rainbows like the room of a tibetan monk after the Rainbow Body 'phenonmanah' has taken place
and
i am laughing at myself
in no forced manner
as the lightness fills my being
a bountiful glow

slowly
i laugh at myself