Bumpity-Bump

I can feel my heart pumping
I know I am alive
It is night time
The morning not yet arrived

I can hear my ears ringing
Almost all the time
It is a reminder
That energies are being refined

Available on Kindle

Barker Slack

Where else
To find a John Cooper Clarke fan
Than on
A Buddhist meditation, weekend retreat

Where else
To find a Buzzcocks or Sid Viscous man
Than by
The muesli, the bananas, and anything but meat

Where else
To enter rooms, with no shoes upon our feet
Than in
That golden space, where the Buddha we greet

Available on Kindle

Back to Back

With a heavy heart
Drifting across the high ground
Listening for the sound
As the past plays its part

Damp leaves on the grass
Before the circular iron railings
Observing those failings
That I took into the class

With the fear of doubt
Worried by quarried stone
All that time spent alone
On life’s Magic Roundabout

Thankful for your voice
With those words of mine
Happy for that time
When we really had no choice

Available on Kindle

Light Noise

I hear the sounds of the stars
From your night skies
Both near, and distant
My breath bears their gift

In this time
Of peaceful presence
The depths of ambition
Are settled to rest

I taste the fruits, and the spices
From your abundant fields
At home; also during absence
My breath stills their passions

As of now
Before dreams, and waking
The pleasures of being
Thus borne, and given

I see colours, of creations
From your petals; your pigments
Coloured with love, and desire
My breath welcomes all

Available on Kindle

Afterwards The Morning

Through the white-clouded, blue-skies, to freedom
Leave behind the pink, and purple, grass
Leave behind the working class
Leave behind the midnight mass
Leave behind all that old talk of freedom

I thought of you, and smiled
As I drove, beside the golden-orange hedgerow
It was a memory, of deeper love
From my collective unconscious
Which brought joy into my breath

Sitting in the warm, bright-light, of freedom
Leave behind the anger of delusions
Leave behind the air of confusions
Leave behind the mindful intrusions
Leave behind all that old talk of freedom

I saw your doppelgänger
In my rear view mirror, as I queued, on the motorway
It was a memory, of a fond journey
Into my recent consciousness
Which brought passion to my heart

Drift into the refreshing, silver-grey, rains of freedom
Leave behind the mystery of the myth
Leave behind the waiting for the gift
Leave behind the need to probe the rift
Leave behind all that old talk of freedom

I heard your sensitive, inspirational, music
As a backdrop, to a meditation prayer
It was a memory, of infinite essence
Of time in contemplation, with you
My unique spirit of guidance

Available on Kindle