poetry

My old Socks

Multicolored footwear beset with many holes. But no one else can see the terrible state of my treasured old socks. You see these socks were bought by a very special friend and they hold so many memories within their crushed and worn fabric. When they were new they were the talk of all my friends. Who would dare to wear such socks they said rather shocked. But now my faded foot threads are replete with holes and extruded toes and destined for the trash. Such a shame my treasured old socks will never walk again.

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Dad

Last night I dreamed we played Model airplanes and such I heard your laugh again And felt your company Special, so very special Since you left it’s been a bit harder I guess every son misses his father It’s not the same you see No one to ask now when needing advice No special moments of devilish fun No more beers down the pub No trips full of historical interest Just a dream or two and a face that looks enough like you to warrant a second glance Where did you go? Cos I really miss you you know.

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It’s Not Over

There’s a place in your heart It’s so cold, it breaks me apart what’s the good I know I should But I don’t want it over I don’t want it over No, It’s not over….

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The Fool’s Journey

The last few weeks have seen me return to thoughts about the Way of the Fool. As if by magic, this has been reinforced as I reread a book called The Zelator which outlines the Way of the Fool extremely well. I will post a review of the book when I am finished with it but I can highly recommend it none the less. All this thought took me back to Inner Journeys in which the prologue is a poem I wrote about the Fool’s Journey. Here it is…. If you need some answers Look deep inside your mind For the inside is the outside Where all answers you can find On the Fool’s long journey You must start right at the end And walk your way backwards Imagination –

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The Eternal Return

Waves of different wavelengths Hang close to eternity Eyes that can see Collapsing waves of light In creation of reality Day-to-day visions of me Still just the reality of An underlying actuality The timelessness of eternity With a traveling slit to see My now forever drifting Observing and creating Past, present and future Side-by-side An eternal returning ride I think I have been reading too much Anthony Peake recently!

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Words

Heavily scented paragraphs Interlaced with passion Pale luminescent skin Shining under full moonlight Radiantly twitching Beguiling, bewitching Mouthed words of silence Hallowed places Boiling emotions scattered Floating raggedly by An endless chastened sigh Belonging yet constantly longing Heat dashed vibrant thighs Senses on the edge of darkness Entwined they simply lie In one soul searching cry

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Blueness

Blueness, luminescent, trickling through my soul Path of the smaller abyss I follow Winding and grinding, deep into the sleeper All a matter of breath control I can be here; I can be there, everywhere Remote perception, astral deception A silent golden shore, ocean translucent My place of remembrance being Fire and flame, Michael meandering same Archangel resplendent Rising pure fire, pursuing spiritual desire Into the circle of healing, respectfully kneeling A timeless location, fiery Sun burning down Standing stones circling motion Harmonic spheres, midst peaks of crystalline tears Naked – a Tiphareth child Ticking time coils, Inner sacred energy boils The savior serpent majestically rises Kabalistic number, while most of you slumber So what can be hidden in a name? Serpentine Kundalini, how will you reveal me? And then

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Life

My past seems like a dream, A shadow of things that were. My future a range of possibilities Yet to be created, made aware. My now is complete yet fleeting An instant once future now passed Moving through the possible to actual Am I judged on my future or my past?

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Life

Life grows in stages It has been the same through all ages I grew in an era of naivety Mellowed in the eighties to the sounds of punk Too soon it was over Wasted years full of fear and living to expectations Midlife washed over in ignorance An established pattern, no real challenge An abrupt realization just in time A change so fundamental So that Life lost its rhyme Face to face with myself Who the hell am I? I threw off the mantle of normalcy I challenged the role of life I grew up Now I have a clue Try for something new The past, the now, the future All are one – the threefold nature Of reality not actuality What fun!

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