Rainfall Come Up

I kneeled and said to God,

"It is you, Lord,

with your head in the clouds,

without your feet on the ground.

How could I believe?".

He replied to me so kindly,

"It is you, Son,

taking things only as they seem

without daring to dream.

Have I reason to deceive?".

I considered his words,

with guilt in my heart

for I knew that all of my sins

could not even begin

to cancel true love that he holds.

And he considered such thoughts,

with enlightened omniscience

and as the clouds parted

a heavy rainfall started

seeming like a punishment to most.

But yet I felt his warmth within each drop

and my eyes were opened wide.

I took the Lord's hand

just as he planned

and he led me into the light.

And so I became the night.

J. Hill

Soft spiralling sways

to her heather trodden ways

in lilac velvet mist

with lips tangerine kissed.

Free feather float

to retreats; rural and remote

where we let dewy soles slide

and help heavy heads hide.

At her sure soaring summit

comes the subsequent plummet,

and as we reach her narcotizing peak

we grow so dependently weak...

Gone but Still There

Familiar scents from childhoods spent

in the back seat of my parents' Citroën.

The bakery's sweet rise of odour to the skies

to be served up to the birds in the cloud kitchen.

Familiar sounds from childhoods found

in the trees behind Pleckgate field.

The mower's chug soundtracks the den we've dug

as we keep its careless treasures concealed.

Familiar sights from childhood nights,

as my legs are jelly and my eyes are melted ice-cream

from a swift BMX pedal and an hour on Medal

before I write up a list for next Haloween's scheme.

These familiar thoughts from my childhood taught

me that through time most things in life will stay.

As we begin to grow old, these memories we hold

will take plenty of wear before they fray.

Sunday Morning Prayer

Bags on my floor;

did I really cause this mess?

Bags on my eyes;

I know the answer's yes.

Change on my desk;

rolled-up notes all but spent.

Change on my mind;

Lord, is it too late to repent?

Melody

Oh melody, remember me

when I am old and fail

Oh melody, I'll remember she

who stayed when hearing failed.

She twists and turns to the tune,

my eyes fixed on her hips.

I follow closely with careful croon,

my mouth matched to her lips.

The Heart's Purse-Strings

Hard earned feelings are often spent far too swiftly

on those products of desire they don't really need,

and before the month ends, they're scraping the barrel

for someone to buy back just a bite of their greed.

And then there's those dithering, fastidious souls

who let their fortunes amass in their airtight heart,

but for all that it holds, the heart weighs too heavy

and the seams that hold it compressed will fall apart.

So how best to spend those soft somethings in your mind

when stringent savings rot and capricious spendings break?

I will keep the purse-strings of my heart tightly sealed

'til there's an investment on future's profit to make.

Nature's School

Crayola clouds on blank canvas skies,
papier-mâché sun with dandelion dye.
A sandpit of stars when it reaches night,
milk on the carpet as it becomes light.

We learn to join up the leaves to the trees,
with sun-dotted Is and fruit-crossed Ts.
I follow the flow of the river with you
and there we will learn one and one must make two.

The birds compose their favourite nursery rhymes,
as we're told these are the best of our times.
Nature is a school where we can always learn and play,
and I still feel such youth at the start of each day...

Stay in the Light

Monsters exist in the shadows;

and the shadows exist in my mind.

Sometimes the most fearful fabrications

are the one's we're hoping to find.

We're often told to chase our dreams

but not to follow nightmares into the black.

Let the monsters lurk in their dark

and we may find the light we lack.

Chasing Change

I'm waiting for Change to stride through the door.

I'm waiting for her to grip me tensely.

I'm in need of Change shaking me to the core.

I'm in need of urgency immensely.

I hope that she's not as patient as me.

I hope that she is kind and soft with her push.

I hope I'm not irresolute in my plea.

I hope I'm consciously caught by Change's crush.

I'm personifying my own failings

as though I'm the victim of vicious life.

I'm personifying as a veiling

for my own lonely lack of a worthwhile life.

Change will not approach me, nor will she retreat.

Only I have the legs to chase some feat.

Another New Start, Another Sickening Mess

I can't stand the person I'm becoming

but

I like the alternative even less.

I'm turning from someone I despise

into

someone I instead detest.

The Involuntary Disappearing Act

For my next trick, I will need a volunteer.

You look lovely, tell us what your name is, dear,

tell about your life, make us believe you're real.

Step into the box, I shall make you disappear!

Rest assured, dear audience, she'll be okay.

To another world I'll spirit her away

(but when she comes back, she'll never be the same)

take an awkward bow and fall right off the stage.

Strawberry Glue

A man's ultimate will

is to find a comfort to melt into...

exploration is a temporary thrill

to breed some solace new.

He will keep on searching until

he finds a balance between the two,

and then he will be still

in a softly feathered strawberry glue.

Shattered & Scattered

The coffee is in my closet

and the wolf is at my door.

I drown the witch at midnight

and spin across the floor.

There's a splitting in my head

where day and night converge.

Should the dark defeat the light

I must submit to the scourge.

But I think that I will see this out

and see my thoughts for what they are.

The fumbling fingered branches are behind me

and the daylight is not too far.

The Songs in Silence

Can you hear the music?

It's everywhere.

Melodic movements spiraling through the troposphere in a sublime subliminal spectrum.

A swinging silence within the melting midnight smile,

and as the fluttering seconds pass by the wild's whisper intensifies.

I've never felt as surrounded by life

than when I've been cut off from humanity.

Sweet sounding isolation is singing its soft lullaby,

and suddenly I can understand the extrinsic nomenclature of nature.

Listen.

It reaches out for us all.

NTAS: The Brain Plots Against Man

My mind is revolting against me.

I'm not sure how I know,

maybe it's telling me.

Maybe I'm supposed to know,

maybe its guard is down.

I should stop talking about it

before it gets suspicious.

I can't stop thinking about it,

or rather it can't stop thinking about it.

Oh God, its reading this isn't it?

This machine with emotion

is dreaming up a reality

of another conscious plane.

Calculated computer,

my callous core,

you keep controlling my crown

like a king in the shadows

and I'm not ready for this war.

Piecing it all together

like a professor analysing some poorly constructed poem

(hey, what are you trying to say?)

oh, what are you trying to show me?

Say it, cryptic killer.

Tell me what I must do.

I know I've been conditioned to fear the cure

but I'm starting to believe in you...

NTAS: Another Damned Nosebleed!

Are these constant nosebeleeds

a demon in my bloodstream?

A simulated symbol for my sin

and a stern living segment of a dream.

I keep running away with the thought

that it's all about to suddenly stop

and if I wipe my dripping slate clean

my blood will simply clot.

NTAS: Reincarnated, Re-restrained

A world that has happened in a world that has happened in a world that has happened

in an intertwined loop

and I am just a small dent in the groove.

Oh how it keeps on spinning when it's stuck on the same sighing second,

spinning, sighing,

spinning, sighing,

skipping.

A world that has happened in a world that has happened in a world that has happened

in an intertwined loop

and I am just a small dent in the groove.

Oh how it keeps on spinning when it's stuck on the same sighing second,

spinning, sighing,

spinning, sighing,

skipping.

Stuck.

Meaning? Missing without the context of the prior minutes

which made up moments of...mystery?

A world that has happened in a world that has happened in a world that has happened
in an intertwined loop
and I am just a small dent in the groove.
Oh how it keeps on spinning when it's stuck on the same sighing second,
spinning, sighing,
spinning, sighing,
skipping.

Stuck.

NTAS: Beyond the Spectrum

I'm not afraid of the things we know to be

but I'm terrified of what lies beyond

the spectrum of things that our eyes can see

and when I glance into the mirror glass

to see my glowing reflection

the ghostly stare that shimmers back

is merely from the mind's projection.

So could it not follow that all we know

is a figment of our imaged imagination

and both everything and nothing exist

beyond the bounds of rational creation?

I close my eyes and see dots amongst the black

which fearlessly float and bounce around their jail;

are the fairies eating my eyes and tender flesh,

why do they feed on my fear and fuck me frail?

NTAS: Scared of my Own Shadow

Does my soul have a shadow

or is it a projection of my lifeless form?

Does my shadow have a soul

with a pulse wicked and warm?

Sometimes I get the sense

that my shadow is not me.

Plots dance in the dark deceiving ripples

of his moonlit lunacy.

I cannot shake this paranoid feeling

that I cannot shake his constant glare.

My shadow is the manifestation of all my doubt

and I have no doubt that he'll always be there.

Lost Guide

You've always been the greatest monument

that could guide me back to my door

when the stubborn, sullen, stormy skies

wish not to take me by the hand anymore.

But your sweet signs never seem to shine as bright

now that my lost soul is most in need of support,

and I haven't the faith to take shelter

in an institute where its guidance needs to be bought.

Won't you offer me your loving charity

with no thought for your own welfare?

Won't you take my hand and softly skip along the street,

proudly displaying your understated care?

Earth's shadow

Quiet companion, who questions nothing

and covers me like a quilt

when I'm feeling the veiled ambivalence

only a hasty human mind could manufacture.

Shifting, but ever present,

you weave your weathered wisdom

into my every last moment

and respond to those unspoken sentiments.

Your darkness, your bright, the space inbetween,

all harmonious in their effect

and even when your storms seem so storm

their morning brings a clarity no-one else could offer.

Silent solitude, orderly mayhem and masked meaning,

I am your student until I die.

You are the only one in this life who will never depart

and your love is so vast, my sky.

All is Fair in the Kingdom of Ungdom

Sunshine eyes and a melting magenta smile,

make the most of the morning of youth

and radiate your love with its innocent truth

and bask in its willing warmth for a while.

Take a moment in the shade if you need

and watch your flowers of confidence grow

but do not let too much pride show

or it will weave and grow wild like weeds.

Let the rising guide your path towards the west

and your butterfly feet will float fair and free,

place your stepping stone sugar in the stream of tea

and spring across to the next ripening quest.

Mill

Monstrous monuments of impressive industry

so full of power and promise from afar...

when I'm closer I see you for what you really are.

Deceptive, desolate, dirty, despondent, redundant,

rubble and ruins, boarded windows and tacked doors...

no-one dares to take a knock to progress anymore.

Take it as Gospel

Jesus was the saviour of my soul

before I understood what religion meant.

I read his message on a church billboard

and got lost in thought about the time I'd spent.

It didn't convince me to go to church

or to use the Bible as my guide,

but it reminded me of the love I have

and to extend this warmth I hold inside.

It assured me that despite my wrongs

I have done no more sin than any other man would.

Through every wrong turn I have done another,

I have provided many others with so much good.

Now I'm determined to focus on positivity

and ensuring that my rights outweigh my wrongs.

I won't be reciting every hymn off by heart

but I will resemble my actions to their songs.

Possum Sun

Her golden hair dances in the tempestuous lake,

brought alive by the imploring roar of the wind

but before there's a chance to soak in her radiance

a hoary grey grip pushes her head into the icy depths.

Grassy hills veil the area like crime-scene tape,

whilst nosey sheep gnaw on the latest news

and as she raises a helpless hand, grasping for land

she fails again under the smothering sun slayer.

Fearing that she will never be seen again,

I take shelter in the trees whilst his force surrounds the area

looking to cover all traces and remove any witness,

even the sky seems to cry in despair.

Yet as the dark assassin seems satisfied with his work

and leaves behind the spoils of his strong squeeze,

the sun emerges unscathed from behind the hill where she hid

and with a wink, extends her love to the chilled spectators.