The Gateway

Opening. Open and seductive.
layered frame of delicate patterns
each revealing
more beauty than the last.
Simple entrance.
Indeed for something so clever, do you need it to be complicated?
Feels fresh and acceptable.
The stain of guilt nowhere to be seen.
Reality expresses itself – indeed knowledge presents a picture of wealth.
Opening. Inner and redemptive quality.
The attraction of choice.
Concrete forms intrinsically presented with
sovereign foundations.
The hard place. Difficult.
Though to stay would benefit
an immeasurable tower of hope.

The Drifting Locks

Open the channel to receive the sea
Said the man washed in tears and bloodied arguments
Veins split and crushed by the weight of a dark light
And as his first sentence finished he collapsed in front of me.
When he found comfort in my chair and a warm drink
He just stared
Where he was staring I may never know
But his eyes never left that place and I heard the departure of his final breath.
I cannot do this by myself.
I placed my hand on his chest and cried words of hope that once again a beat, a movement may take hold
Of a broken body and give it life.
I waited
I looked
I cried
I waited.
I turned for the door and phone and touched the wall
As a whisper no louder than bare feet on grass
Kissed my ear and made me turn
Shadows dispersed and a flower opened…

S, L or D (w.1991)

I awake the the chime of the eighth time
I grasp my body and shake my brain
I slowly rise and shift and fall and climb
Then to eat-morning-shredded wheat cane
The same continual cycle is destroying my mind
I then return to ‘NEST’ and clad my body.

As I leave my place of knowledge or love
I wander perpetually looking for what I shall not find
Asking for what I ask He for ages, but He says tough
The feeling of what He has and you want is wordless
I complete the common task, like He had asked
What am I to become?

Then as the busy, clog, smog, chokes my inner instruments
I feel drained, drowned, delirious, desolate
Oh, what am I to become?

I return with no gain, no loss, just thought
So much thought
I was caught as I bought another soul for the price of thought
Now, what am I to become?

As I say the same words
I am already in my nest, at the end, again, of the test
I scan what has been all for always
Tell me, what am I to become?

Just… (w.1998)

Just a flower some say
but upon fresh wings you flew to me
Like colours of the morning sky
I, too, am set free
(Days past like dreams trapped)
The Lord he set me free.
Rainbows shine in summer rain
He took the pain from me
So I stand with life in my hands
And heal in the shade of trees
For the Lord set me free on Darwin days.
Just a flower some say
but with angels light and a doves cry
the Lord he set me free.
So now I grow with the child in me
upon sacred steps I learn to see
And now I know
The Lord God set me free.

Steve Biko (Cry Freedom) w.1995

I only know a few things
There are things that I know are right
There are things that I know are wrong
Murdering innocent people … well… is not right
Oppression of voices and minds within a legitimate framework … erm
Sacred dictators who spoke and used minds to control a people
Everday non-whites are abused for what they are
and not who they are Is our situation so wrong?
To win just once So many go without
Stuff and muff the minority, the children, the delicate to a chance-less arena
and when the seconds past
stick the stereo on.
The anger I feel towards the loss of basic right to freedom is something the universe
could feel.

@£%$

whatever the view when the sunset it was time for the rest                            
cradled round the stand of a chest with roughness
at hand
and the bareness of breath
whatever the view.
wasted moments flicking and pushing
a wrist to the right and a technicolour gaze
moments
just
above the height
that place where we go at random and unprepared sequences
when the depth is just below the feet
and the breath just above the head
whatever the view.

Too Close For Comfort

She said that every step leads to another
and at the same time twisted smile and caved expression
walked in the mother
watched
smirked
and left.
It was most strange and ready to explain
I opened my mouth and she put a finger to my lips
’silence is golden’, she exclaimed.
I started to realise I was in a situation I shouldn’t be
so turning and briskly walking made my way to the door
a thousand hopes and fears mingled together
like water and oil
a base thought was dominant,
if I get out alive then I willl tell the people that she really was …
too close for comfort.

EM Fuss

Whats all the fuss about?
Hardly seems worth the breath
the depth needed to carry on
pushing for position and indiscreet opinions
letting others do the deconstruct while you dont give a
look at the past.
Whats all the fuss about?
Some gifted thinker with the new
while you are stranded in embryonic-emergent-gu
left scratching the proverbial
and totally without a clue.
Whats all the fuss about?

To Begin With The Old

Once again the hands reach out
Side views of something distant
Created intensity and reflective
  something meant to be
My feet are barely on the floor
I want to fall
Yet my consciousness keeps on its critique
The Spirit waits and moves
Yet I stay clearly on my feet
something meant to be
For a moment I let go
Gifts and dreams, clarity and meaning
Invested in me
Take their place and increase my faith
something meant to be
I see a mountain and it is no longer in the way
Its routes are clear, size absent of fear
And then I see
something meant to be.

http://bluestare.wordpress.com/2008/02/13/cycles-of-mountains/

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How can I see the clouds when you wonder is it going to rain?

When do I let go and become what you are trying to give away?

I was flicking through a newspaper just as you did

But you saw hollow heads and dispersed red

I thought of a friend and a temporal past.

I held my hand like wounds on a soldier and yet you fought like a child in danger

Caught in a breath unprepared to release

A future need

To be laid before his feet.

http://bluestare.wordpress.com/2008/02/05/perception/

———————————————————————–

I can close my eyes and she is no longer there
I can cover my ears and she is no longer there
I can still my mind and she is no longer there
Yes, I can do such things

But

I cannot close my heart for she is always there.

I can listen to a friend and she is no longer there
I can play a game and she is no longer there
I can argue and scream and she is no longer there

But

I cannot close my heart for she is always there.

I can plan and dream and she is no longer there
I can fall and hurt and she is no longer there
I can love another and she is no longer there

But

I cannot close my heart for she is always there.

http://bluestare.wordpress.com/2007/05/28/dreaming-daughter/

——————————————————–

For a moment I was sure that others gathered here
  Time left its mark and silence grew in force
It was only the last sunset that called my name
  Time left its mark and silence grew in force
Still I stand and still I have no fear
  Time left its mark and silence grew in force
What future tightens its grip around the sane
Time left
Silence

http://bluestare.wordpress.com/2007/05/27/the-lonely-tree/

————————————————————

 

My view now is not what it was then

Now I see lakes and islands; a misty glow of the sun upon ripples and leaves

Then it was twisted bodies and a ripping of souls (mainly mine)

Now in the distance three trees to my right

Then three ladies leaning heavy on my lost frame

Now hills mark the distance my eyes will allow me to see

Then my eyes no longer sacred, no longer clear

Now all is in perspective. Defined. Guided.

Then I felt sick and dragged where another led

Now I am empty even though the view is inspiring

Then I released my fullness out of view

Now, only now I awaken

Then I was asleep in my flesh

Now I am dis-jointed and tired

Then I could have searched until the morning

Now where do I go?

Then I did not care the way (only slight twitches of danger)

Now I want to swim in water breathable

Then I drowned for the thousandth time

Now I seek for the view to become me

Then I could not see

Now, only now can I hear you

Then I heard only rumours and all I ignored

Now my hands mean something. I desire a scan to erase. A hope to remain.

Lee Barnes

‘If not now, then when?’

http://bluestare.wordpress.com/2007/04/12/16th-march-2007-will-soon-become-the-17th-march-2007/